Kup's Chicago - Irv Kupcinet [83]
As a coach, George also has pioneered changes in game technique. It was the Bears who were first to hold daily practice sessions, first to use movies in scouting, first to exploit the potential of the T formation, and first to station an assistant coach in the upper deck with a telephone line to the bench. The telephone, however, was an afterthought. At first, George merely posted Assistant Coach Luke Johnsos up there with a pad of paper. When Luke saw something from his aerie that he thought might not be visible from the field, he would jot notes and float them down. But partisan out-of-town fans quickly put a stop to that: They began intercepting this air mail and tipping the contents to Bear opponents.
George’s tirades from the side lines are deservedly notorious. (I have been on the receiving end of several of his tongue-lashings myself, in my NFL officiating days.) But it is all due to momentary emotion and after the game, he is friendly and calm as if nothing had happened. He is one of the most considerate men I know in dealing with players. No Bear ever is dismissed until George has discussed his situation with him, tried to effect a trade, or helped him into a job outside football. And each year, he foots the bills for a huge reunion of former players. These proceedings carry the formidable title of “Annual Meeting of the Bears Alumni Association,” although traditionally the alumni accomplish nothing more momentous than to have themselves a ball and re-elect Red Grange president.
For his loyalty to friends and associates, George has few equals. In at least one instance, this loyalty has transcended even his devotion to the Bears as a team: For several years, offensive coach Luke Johnsos and Clark Shaughnessy of the defense have spoken to one another only when necessary. This situation, according to the critics, can have nothing but an adverse effect on the spirit of the team. Yet out of personal regard for the two men, and respect for their individual coaching skills, George has refused to dismiss either of them.
Should everything else about the Bears be forgotten, however, one event will always stand out – their 73-0 victory over the Washington Redskins in the 1940 NFL championship game. (A game, incidentally, at which I had the privilege of officiating.) It is true that the Bears had outstanding personnel in Sid Luckman, George McAfee, Scooter McLean, Bill Osmanski, Bulldog Turner, Ken Kavanaugh, Joe Stydahar, Danny Fortmann, and the rest. Yet the Redskins, led by Sammy Baugh, were the NFL offensive leaders who only two weeks previously had defeated the Bears, 7-3. In practice, Halas, a master psychologist, played on this fact and also on the much-resented accusation that his players were “quitters” and “crybabies,” as George Preston Marshall, owner of the Redskins, had called them in the press.
On the train heading East, the Bears did not relax as teams on the road generally do. Instead of playing cards and swapping lies, they silently pored intently over notebooks. The results were fantastic. On the third play of the game Bill Osmanski burst through the line for a 68-yard touchdown run. This was followed by ten other Bear touchdowns, scored by nine other players. By the fourth period, when the Bears were leading 67-0, we officials finally had to ask them to consider passing instead of kicking for any future conversions. We were running out of footballs!
Halas’ comment after the game was typical:
“I guess my team deserved to win today!”
I could fill volumes with stories of the famous players of the Chicago area, but I have space here to mention only a few of the greatest, headed by the most spectacular football player of all time, the Galloping Ghost of Illinois, Red Grange.
In 1925, when Red turned pro, a crowd of thirty-six