"It gets clearer every year. To be able to be in Baltimore as a receiver and get to play 12 years with him, I
have to classify as the best break I ever got in my career. The type of quarterback he was, the leader he was, he was totally
focused on moving the football, scoring points and winning. He never thought about records and individual things, he was all
business. He was the toughest competitor you could hope for." - Former Baltimore Colts receiver Raymond Berry
"It
meant so much to me, my family and our team when he embraced us when we first arrived. He is on the short list of players
that you can count on one hand of the greatest to ever play. His impact was enormous. He cared so much for this community
that he made his home. And he fought for his fellow NFL alumni to increase their benefits and improve their lives." - Baltimore
Ravens owner Art Modell
"His presence in Baltimore and in the history of the NFL is
unmatched. Much of the success the NFL enjoys today can be found in the seeds Johnny planted in the late 1950s and 60s." -Baltimore
Ravens coach Brian Billick
"I don't have many heroes. Very plain and simply, Johnny Unitas was one of my heroes.
When you think of Baltimore, you think of Johnny Unitas." - Baltimore Ravens senior vice president of football operations
Ozzie Newsome
"He's had his arm around me since my college days. I give my utmost sympathy to his family. He was
such a great person. I believe he's one of the main reasons I'm an NFL starting quarterback. He had such an impact on me.
I'll miss him so much." -Baltimore Ravens quarterback Chris Redman
"It's hard to believe our hearts could be
any heavier than they are today. But now Johnny Unitas is gone. This is a particularly painful day for Baltimore, because
Johnny Unitas was Baltimore -- guts and grit. Nobody thought he could be a professional football player much less the best
quarterback who ever played the game. He believed that he and every member of his team were the best and they went out on
the field again and again and proved it. I know I speak for the city of Baltimore, and all those who call themselves Colts
fans, when I say our prayers are with the Unitas family tonight." -Baltimore Mayor Martin O'Malley
"You'd knock
him down, but I'll be darned, he'd throw a touchdown pass to Raymond Berry or to Jimmy Orr or (John) Mackey or somebody. He'd
always find a way to make it happen." - former Baltimore Colts defensive assistant and current San Diego Charger associate
head coach Bill Arnsparger
"It's hard to say who's the best because so many things change as eras change. But he
was the best." -former Kansas City Chief quarterback Len Dawson
"He was the nicest person and a wonderful guy,
a great storyteller. It's hard to let our heroes go. It's so unexpected." - Former Pittburgh Steelers quarterback and current
Fox Sports analyst Terry Bradshaw
"We followed his college career and eventually drafted him. Unfortunately, we
did not give him a chance. We cut him and he was given a tryout with Baltimore, and then went on to be the Player of the Decade
and to a Hall of Fame career." - Pittsburgh Steelers owner Dan Rooney, a former high school opponent of Unitas
It was a passive morning at Passing Fancy, the flat expanse of farmland where John Unitas, wife Sandra and their
three children live in comfort and a laid-back, kick-off-your-shoes kind of rural leisure.
Their impeccable white-fenced
sanctuary is located in the Long Green Valley, affording a grand vista of the Maryland countryside, away from the public glare
but, at the same time, not so private that it's a self-imposed isolation.
Sons Joey and Chad
are away at college; daughter Paige is a student at St. Paul's School For Girls. And the most famous player in the history
of the Baltimore Colts and the consummate quarterback, the best the NFL has ever known, is recovering from surgery to an arm
that was once so lethal it shot holes in otherwise airtight defenses, created an effusion of points and caused scoreboards
to short-circuit.
Unitas was a talent unto himself. Physically strong, mentally alert, quietly defiant in the face
of all challenges and beyond intimidation. Respected by the men on the other side of the scrimmage line, as well as revered
by teammates. A guard named Art Spinney, who played to his left, referred to him as the "meal ticket." To halfback Lenny Moore
he was simply "Johnny U." At the moment, Unitas is a Colt in harness, wearing a protective case around his right arm, from
wrist to mid-biceps, and facing at least three months of therapy with the hope that some percentage of normal strength will
eventually return to a limb that progressively went limp.
The complex surgery, performed by Dr. Andrew Eglseder at
the University of Maryland Hospital Medical Systems, took five hours and involved repairing and relocating ligaments, removing
bone fragments and moving the ulnar nerve to its proper location.
The injury that triggered the belated trauma was
suffered in 1968 in the final game of the preseason, when Unitas leaned away to avoid an all-out rush from the Dallas Cowboys
and, in trying to get under the pressure to deliver a pass with a sidearm delivery, had the flexor and pronator muscles torn
from their track by the intensity of the hit.
It was the season in which he would come back to throw only 32 passes,
and his replacement, Earl Morrall, became the NFL's Most Valuable Player. And there was the journey to Super Bowl III -- a
long afternoon for the Colts as they lost to the New York Jets, 16-7, in one of the most momentous upsets in NFL history.
Now, almost three decades later, the residual results of the damage caused his right arm to lose strength. Near paralysis.
"I couldn't hold a cup of coffee or pick up a pen to sign my name," he explained. "I wasn't able to grip a golf club,
carry a suitcase or even lift a knife or fork."
Now, after the surgical phase, all he can do is proceed with rehabilitation,
under the direction of his longtime friend and physical therapist, Bill Neill, at Kernan Hospital, and await improvement.
He has two artificial knees from earlier operations, which he says "work fine," and a plastic replacement for a middle-finger
knuckle that he first shattered when he hit a player's helmet while following through on a pass. An artificial joint had been
inserted, but while splitting wood for the fireplace the pressure of swinging the ax caused the replacement knuckle to break.
Then, don't forget the quadruple bypass heart surgery in 1993 that became a life-or-death situation when he was in
the hospital for what was expected to be a slightly more than routine knee operation.
Career worth the painThe
pertinent question for Unitas was first asked by his son, John Jr., who is in charge of Unitas Management Corp.
"Young
Johnny wanted to know if I thought all these problems were worth playing 18 years of pro football," said his father. "My reaction
is, I wonder where I would be without playing football. I guess I'd be teaching school. That's what I went to the University
of Louisville for, to get a degree in teaching.
"That would have been a useful way to make a living. With my arm that
went bad, the X-rays never showed the extent of the injury or the aftermath of the cortisone shots I took at the time.
"Dr.
Eglseder mentioned, after what he found, that he didn't know how I was able to play the last four or five seasons. The ligaments
just reattached themselves where they weren't supposed to be, and I guess I made the best of the situation. Maybe that was
nature taking over. A lot of NFL players are having problems in later life. Nothing new about that."
Unitas, looking
out on his 19 acres (symbolic of the jersey number he wore), seemed more reflective and contemplative than usual. Outside,
beyond the house, three dogs romped, two goats charged about their playpen and, at the far end of the property, a herd of
white-faced Herefords huddled under shade trees. And the surrounding flower gardens were in fall bloom.
Unitas, meanwhile,
was enjoying talking about how it was to play hard and then go out and drink a cold beer with a teammate or a rival from the
other side of the scrimmage line.
He was nudged into discussing the infamous mistake the Pittsburgh Steelers made
in 1955 when, after drafting him, a hometown product, in the ninth round, they never gave him a chance to play in a single
exhibition. Then, just like that, he was cut loose.
"I remember I was in all the scrimmages and went against the first-string
defense in practices all the time, but coach Walt Kiesling wouldn't let me play in a game.
"We were playing an exhibition
in Miami against the Detroit Lions. I was on the bench and Kiesling looked right at me. I figured he was finally going to
use me. I reached down for my helmet and then he said, 'Marchibroda.' We had Ted Marchibroda as a quarterback and also Jimmy
Finks and Vic Eaton. Ted had only been back with the Steelers from National Guard duty about two days and he was using him.
"We returned to Pittsburgh, had the weekend off and then I rode back to training camp in Olean, N.Y., with Finks and
Lynn Chandnois. En route, we picked up Ted Marchibroda in Oil City [Pa.]. On Monday morning, assistant coach Nick Skorich,
a real nice man, told me to bring my playbook and come see the head coach, Kiesling. I knew what that meant.
"He said
he was going to have to let me go because he couldn't keep four quarterbacks. I said to him, 'Coach, I'm not upset you're
getting rid of me, but you never even gave me [an] opportunity; that's what I feel is wrong.'
"I got $ 10 bus fare
from Olean to Pittsburgh. I kept the money and hitchhiked home with another kid who got cut. He went off to the seminary and
became a priest."
Unitas signed to play for a semipro team near Pittsburgh, the Bloomfield Rams, for $ 6 a game and
took a job with a pile-driving crew. He didn't mind the work and needed the money because he had a wife, Dorothy, and a son,
plus another child was expected soon.
He was making $ 11 an hour and working as the "monkey man" with the outfit,
meaning that every morning at the job site he climbed 125 feet up the rig to grease the equipment. "We were driving piles,
creating 50 tons of pressure every time we drove the corrugated pipe into the ground," he recalled.
That's what Unitas
was doing when the Colts signed him for a non-guaranteed contract of $ 6,000 (no bonus) and, on the rebound, he went on to
become the greatest quarterback the NFL has known.
Personally, he's blunt, unselfish, comes to the point in a hurry,
is trusting and, yet, at the same time, suspicious, particularly of strangers -- the reason being that he has too often been
betrayed by business partners and, at this time in his life, at age 64, believes in keeping his guard up to ward off con artists
and pitch men.
Now he's an official with Matco Electronics Group in Timonium and is either in the office or on the
road for sales presentations.
A storied careerWith the Colts, he was the only player to be a part of
three championship teams -- in 1958, 1959 and the Super Bowl in 1970. He set 22 records, was the league MVP three times, played
in 10 Pro Bowls and was named to the all-time NFL team.
Playing against Unitas for the Green Bay Packers, tackle Henry
Jordan was asked by a teammate, in short-yardage situations, what kind of play he might expect. "I don't know," mumbled a
weary and wary Jordan, "because for five years I've been trying to figure him out and he always does what you don't expect."
Unitas believes being a defensive player in high school and college helped him formulate a comprehensive concept of
the game.
"I hate to see specialization," he said. "I know playing defense made me a better quarterback because I
had a chance to realize how defensive players think in certain situations and then as a play-caller could go at them accordingly.
With the Colts, a smart player named Lloyd Colteryahn told me how I could work a lot of plays off a slant pass.
"Get
that going and then do other things off it. I studied game films and looked for tendencies. I also kept checking myself so
I didn't get into the same play-calling sequence. Gee, the slant pass was good for us. Throwing to Raymond Berry or Lenny
Moore on the slant set up other things we could do. Can you imagine any coach showing Raymond or Lenny how to run a slant?
"I paid attention to players in the huddle and what they said they could do. If you listened to L. G. Dupre, he was
open every play. But I did throw to him. Now with Jimmy Orr, another fine player, when he would say, 'Senor, the time is now
and I can beat him on a z-out pattern.' When Orr said that, you knew he could get it done."
As for contemporary quarterbacks,
Unitas regards Dan Marino highly and says that in 1983 he suggested to Ernie Accorsi, then general manager of the Colts, that
he draft Marino. In the same respected category he includes John Elway, Joe Montana, Troy Aikman and Steve Young.
The
most money Unitas ever earned from the Colts was $125,000 a year. Sold to the San Diego Chargers, they immediately doubled
his contract to $250,000, but that's hardly comparable to the millions of dollars players make today.
Unitas has great
memories, a reputation to match and a body that has almost as many replacement parts as you can find in a repair shop.
From
his perspective, there is no reason for lamentation, but he has paid an enormous personal price for throwing touchdown passes.
Yet he doesn't complain. That was never the Unitas way. He just took the best shot they had to give, got up, looked the defense
in the eye and found a way to put the ball in the end zone.
