The 50-Year Punt

I’ve been following the Chicago Bears since the early ‘60s. I remember seeing the quarterback at the time, Billy Wade, throw an interception. My father shook his head disgustedly and said, “The Bears haven’t had a good quarterback since Sid Luckman.” Luckman, of course, was the quarterback for the original Monsters of the Midway of the late ‘30s and ‘40s, back in the days of leather helmets and two-way players. Of course, the same statement would sound ridiculous today … wouldn’t it? Hmm.

Even then, the Bears were developing a two-sided persona. The defense had a dominance and a swagger, while the offense, well, had room to grow. In 1963, the Bears won the NFL championship with a defense that set a record for fewest number of points allowed in a season. There are stories that the defense, frustrated with a turnover or the inability to move the football, would jostle the offensive players when they came off the field.

Somehow, this dichotomy has continued through the decades. A strong defense has perpetually been the trademark of the Bears. On the other hand, the job of the offense has usually been to avoid losing the game for the defense.

It wasn't as if there weren't talented players on the Bears offense. Mike Ditka, of course, was a Hall of Fame tight end, who, along with John Mackey of the Baltimore Colts, transformed the position. Johnny Morris set a record for number of pass receptions in a season.

There was a string of great and almost great running backs too: Willie Gallimore, Gale Sayers, Walter Payton, and Neal Anderson. A succession of strong, skilled linemen opened up the holes for those running backs. There were even quarterbacks who had good individual seasons. But somehow, the whole always seemed to be less than the sum of its parts.

A classic play occurred in 1969 during a Bears game with the St. Louis Cardinals. The quarterback, Jack Concannon, turned away from the center to motion Gale Sayers to move slightly. The center, Mike Pyle, delivered the ball to the unsuspecting Concannon. The ball bounced off Concannon, flew up in the air, and into the waiting arms of the St. Louis linebacker, who ran for a touchdown.

Sometime, around that same time frame, I remember seeing another play. (By the way, if there’s anyone out there who remembers this, please let me know … I just want to be sure I didn’t hallucinate the entire sequence). It went like this: The quarterback stood under center, and two running backs crouched behind and off to either side of him in a “Y” formation. The quarterback got the ball and faded back to pass. Meanwhile, the two running backs ran forward in an attempted crossing pattern. The three players ran into each other … and fell down.

Article Author: Phillip Barnett

Phillip Barnett is a middle-aged software geek with multiple and conflicting musical fantasies. He has played jazz piano, folk guitar and klezmer clarinet (though not all at the same time). You can follow his meanderings through twitter.

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