Instant Replay: The Green Bay Diary of Jerry Kramer

by Jerry Kramer

  DECEMBER 26

  The guys came in this morning in high spirits, feeling pert and sassy. We were all kidding about quitting the game. “They're gonna have to move you to right tackle next year, Jerry,” Forrest Gregg said, “to fill my spot. Be good for you. Won't have to run so much at tackle.”

  “They're gonna have to come down to Louisiana to get me,” I said.

  “You ain't gonna quit,” Forrest said. “You can't quit.”

  “I sure as hell won't quit till you do,” I said.

  “I'm not quitting till Bart quits,” said Ray Nitschke, “and he ain't ever gonna quit.”

  “This is my last year,” said Henry Jordan. “This is it.”

  Lombardi was in a cheerful mood, relaxed, not whipping himself or us yet. He had good words for almost everybody, starting with Jordan. “Henry had a great game,” Vince said, “probably the greatest game I've ever seen him play.” Maybe Coach heard Henry talking about retiring and wanted to change his mind. Vince also had a million good words for Nitschke and said that Ray was having his finest season.

  When we watched the films of the game, Vince tried to holler a bit, but he couldn't really get angry. He said that Donny Anderson had come of age as a Packer, that he'd played his best game. Andy made a great catch on a high center when he was punting early in the game. If the ball had been just a little higher, it would have been eighty-eight and out the gate. We would have been in bad shape.

  Wally Cruice, our super scout, gave us a rundown on Dallas. He said that they'd put everything together Sunday, everything they had been working on all year. He had nothing but praise for them, which seemed only fair, the way they played Sunday. “Cruice scouts the players and I scout the coaches,” said Lombardi. “Tom Landry took a course in psychology during the offseason.” Landry must have taken a course on how not to antagonize your opponents, judging from the way his players talked on television after the Cleveland game. They were so sweet. They said they were thrilled to have an opportunity to be on the same field with the Green Bay Packers. They said it was a privilege for them to play against the greatest team in the history of football. They were poor-mouthing something terrible. They sounded just like us.

  You learn through experience never to bad-mouth an opponent, and the best example I can remember came when I was hurt a few years ago. We had a kid named Dan Grimm filling in for me, a pretty good kid, and the first time we played Detroit, he handled Alex Karras very well. “Karras isn't so tough,” Grimm told some sportswriter after the game. “Not as tough as I thought he was. He didn't show me many moves.” The sportswriter quoted Grimm in the paper. The kid didn't know that Alex was playing with a pulled groin muscle. The next time we faced the Lions, Alex ate him up. He tore the kid's helmet off, knocked him down, chewed him up and spat him out. After one vicious attack, Alex looked at the kid and said, “How do you like those moves, ass-face?”

  I've got only nice things to say about Jethro Pugh, the man I'll be facing Sunday. He's just in his third year as a pro and he went to some school called Elizabeth City State, but he had a great year. He beat me a couple of times real quick in our exhibition in Dallas. He's got good strength in his hands. He doesn't run over you, but he likes to put his hands on your shoulders and pull. He likes to go to the outside, to my right, to get to the quarterback.

  Jethro is definitely mobile, agile, and hostile. I watched him in the movies playing against San Francisco, against Howard Mudd, who's a real fine guard, and Pugh gave Mudd a hard time. My first thought after seeing him against Mudd was that I'd better spend a little time this week working out against Henry Jordan, just to get myself used to moving against somebody fast. I'd also like to lose a few pounds. I'm back up to about 255.

  I can't afford to make any mistakes Sunday. If the fans hear this guy's name once on the PA, they'll never forget it. And if they hear it twice, they'll think they've been hearing it all day long.

  They'll think he made every tackle in the game. I wish he had a name like Smith.

  DECEMBER 27

  It was bitter cold this morning. Somebody said it hit 10 below zero, which is cold even for Green Bay. Herb Adderley said his car froze to the ground. “We've got Jack Frost on our side,” said Coach Lombardi. Our field's heated electrically so that it'll be playable Sunday, but Vince said if he has to he'll pull the plug on Dallas.

  We don't seem to have much fire yet, much emotion, not even a tenth of the emotion we had for the Rams. We're cocky and flat, and Coach Lombardi's trying to get us excited. Vince talked today about the third straight championship, talked about how no team has ever won three NFL playoffs in a row, and he said that if we could do it we'd earn lasting recognition, recognition through the years. “The hell with recognition through the years,” Nitschke called out. “Let's get the money. Let's get my car paid for.”

  When we went out on the field, Lombardi reminded me that Jethro Pugh had given me trouble in the exhibition game and, just to make sure I wouldn't forget, he chewed my butt all through practice. I was working hard, anyway, but he wanted to get me up on the bit, so he cussed me out four or five different times, which is some kind of record. One time I pulled to the left and I bumped into the center, and Vince screamed, “C'mon, c'mon, Jerry, you're slow. You're too damned slow.” Another time we tried a drive play right up the middle, and I knocked Jim Weatherwax back about five yards before he got away from me, and Lombardi hollered, “How in the hell could you let that man slip away from you like that?”

  “The primary reason,” I said, “is because he's five yards down- field. That's why he got off me to the inside.” I was getting hot with Lombardi.

  “OK, OK, OK,” he said. He wanted to push me, but not too far.

  I thought I had an excellent workout today; Vince obviously disagreed. I worked real hard on pass protection, put in more than my usual share of time on the blitz drill, and later got off on the side and worked with Henry Jordan, a good, helpful session. I was very happy with myself.

  “Jerks, jerks, jerks,” Lombardi chanted, as we ran off the field, a fairly typical comment for him. If I listened to him, I'd think I never saw a good Wednesday practice before a Sunday game, no matter how good it was, and I'd think I never saw a bad Thursday practice, no matter how bad it was.

  We had a meeting to vote for championship shares, and it was just like a hen party. Dave Robinson kept chattering like a magpie, bringing up parliamentary procedure and points of order, everything he could think of. He is the most argumentative man in the world. Robby'll argue any side of any question, just for practice. I once heard him argue for half an hour that black-eyed peas are really black-eyed beans. Maybe they are, but who cares? Most of the guys don't say much of anything in the meeting; some of them are willing to give shares to just about anybody who has anything to do with the ball club. Of the ones who do speak up, the majority are out to protect their own shares. They say things like, “Damn, I didn't see that guy hustle any, I don't want to give him any of my money,” or, “Hell, that guy sits up in an office, never getting hit on Sunday, I don't want to give him any of my money.” The discussions get pretty heated.

  Only the active players are eligible to vote, and we were all kidding Elijah Pitts, telling him that he was only going to get half a share because he missed half the season, but, of course, there was no question about voting him a full share. The major arguments were over front-office people and maintenance people and the guys on the taxi squad. We decided we didn't want to give one cab player a cent because (i) his attitude wasn't good and (2) he had received a big bonus. “No sense in giving him any money,” somebody said. “Just put him in a higher tax bracket.”

  The meeting dragged on and on and on—we did decide to give the other taxi players cash awards—and finally Coach broke it up before we finished. “Finish it tomorrow,” he said. “You've got to watch some films.” I was the first one out of the meeting, and the first thing I saw was a golden head on a pair of sloped shoulders—Paul Hornung. I thump
ed him hard on the head. I was really happy to see him, happy that he had decided to come up from New Orleans for the championship game. Even though I played on the same team with him for nine years, Paul's always been an idol of mine. I know that sounds a little ridiculous, especially since, as I always tell Paul, I did so much to make him as great as he was.

  Paul said hello to everyone and sat with us while we viewed the films, biting his fingernails the way he always did. Paul and Max sat together, and they got Gregg and Skoronski giggling during the movies. The old man didn't get upset. He was practically giggling himself he was so glad to see Paul. He's always had a weakness for Paul. I guess that's natural, the stern father being fond of the wild son.

  DECEMBER 28

  We had a heat wave today. The temperature was up to around io degrees above zero, and it seemed like the tropics. We had a short pre-workout speech, mostly about the voting for championship shares. Lombardi was sore at us for taking so much time yesterday and not finishing. “After the workout today,” he said, “you'll go in there and finish voting for those shares, and you'll finish in five minutes. Enough of that nonsense.”

  As we started out toward the field Lombardi shouted, “Let's have a good workout today. Let's get a little fire, a little spirit. You look a little sloppy. You're walking through the motions.”

  I happened to be standing near him, and I said, “Hey, I worked as hard out there yesterday as I've worked in three months.”

  “I know you did,” he said. “I know you did.”

  I worked hard again today. I spent some time with Bob Brown and Jim Weatherwax because they're both tall like Jethro Pugh. I played a little brother-in-law with Wax, telling him what to do to me during practice. Usually, when we brother-in-law, it's during a blitz drill. I say something like, “Take an inside, Kos,” or, “Wax, take an outside this time.” You just do it because you can't explode off the ball every play in practice and you don't want to fall down and look bad and get yourself chewed. You do it for self-preservation. But today I was looking for help. I told Wax, “It's a pass situation, Wax. Grab me. Pull me. Use your hands. All hands. Butt me once in a while, but keep using your hands.” I wanted him to come at me the way I think Jethro Pugh will.

  I'm trying to get a set plan in my mind, and it's shaping up pretty well. I'm really not too concerned about the running plays; I seldom have much trouble on running plays. I've got to concentrate on my pass blocking. I've made up my mind to try to keep my head up, my back straight, and my hands out. If I can keep his hands off me, if I can keep moving, if I can keep my head up and watch him all the time, I think I can defeat him.

  At one point during the practice, Lombardi came up to the offensive line and said, “The defense says they can tell when you linemen are gonna run and when you're gonna pass.”

  “Which linemen?” I said. “Who and when?”

  “Fuzzy and Ski,” Lombardi said.

  I felt better, because I'm always watching out to make sure that I'm not tipping the play. I tell Kostelnik every day, “Watch me. See if you can tell anything.” If he calls the play right half the time, he's only guessing. If he's right more than half the time, I've got to check myself. In the middle of this season I started tipping my cutoff block, a real quick throw-out at the tackle's legs. Every time I got set to try it, Kos yelled, “Cutoff, cutoff, cutoff.” I said, “How'd you know?” And he said, “You're cocking yourself.” I started studying a piece of grass on the ground, watching it to make certain that I didn't move at all.

  We're in a little better shape for this game. Grabo looked good today. He made several sharp cuts, several good moves. “Way to go, Grabo, way to go,” Lombardi shouted. “How you feel?”

  “Ready, Coach, ready,” Grabowski said.

  Of course, if Grabo cuts the wrong way one time, he can hurt the knee again.

  Coach Lombardi's having a struggle with himself, trying to decide whether to start Donny Anderson or Travis Williams. He feels he owes it to Anderson, but he knows Williams is more explosive, more of a threat for the long run. Coach is also thinking about starting Kenny Bowman at center. The Cowboys' middle linebacker, Lee Roy Jordan, is only about 230, smallish for a linebacker, but he's very, very quick. Bowman, at 235, is quicker than Hyland, at 265, and he may have a better chance to get to Jordan. Either way, we shouldn't be hurting at center. Hyland's been coming along very well.

  We haven't put in any special plays for Dallas yet. The Cowboys use a staggered defense, one tackle up tight and one off half a yard, the same with the ends, varying according to our formations. They're pretty good at stopping runs from tackle to tackle, and I think we're going to aim a lot at the seven hole, outside Forrest Gregg, the spot Travis hit on his long touchdown run against the Rams.

  As we were coming off the field, Lombardi seemed pleased with the workout. “Pretty good practice,” he said. “Pretty good practice, I'd say. What do you say, Dick Capp?”

  Dick said, “Yes, sir.” He's been on the cab squad most of the year, but he's learned the right lines.

  We went right into the meeting room to resume voting on the shares, and we got into a miserable hassle. We fought over the public relations man and the groundskeeper and the chief scout and the personnel manager, and somebody argued, “They're not getting knocked on their asses. They've got long careers. We're finished fast.” Finally, after a lot of screaming, we broke everything down, decided on shares and parts of shares for everybody, and called Coach Lombardi in. Willie Davis had written the shares on the blackboard.

  Lombardi stared at the list. “You really outdid yourselves, didn't you?” he said. “You really gave a lot of your money away. You're really just a great bunch of guys.” He couldn't have been more sarcastic, more cutting. “I'm ashamed of you,” he said. “Just take my share off that list. Just take it off and split it up. Split it up, if that's the way it's gonna be. Just split it up.”

  Willie Davis didn't hesitate. He immediately erased the place where it said seven shares for the coaches and changed it to six.

  “The hell with all of you,” Lombardi said.

  Coach spun around and walked out of the room, on the verge of crying. He seemed terribly upset, terribly disappointed in the guys. He believes in charity. Of course, he's wealthy enough to believe in charity—and he doesn't believe in charity at contract time.

  We went and watched movies for a little while, and then Vince said, “That's enough. Go back in there and vote again on that damned thing. Get back in there and straighten it out.” He took Willie and Ski aside and told them what he wanted. He thought Wally Cruice, the scout, and Pat Peppler, the personnel man, and Chuck Lane, the public relations director, deserved larger shares. We went back in the room and wrangled for another half hour and came up with a solution. We called Lombardi in and he said, “OK. That's better. It's not great, but I'm happy. I give up.” Naturally, he got his share back in the process.

  But even the squabble over the shares couldn't shake the air of confidence in the dressing room. The difference between last week and this week is incredible. We were afraid to look beyond the Rams, and now we're not even looking at the Cowboys. I don't quite know what to make of it. I'm worried.

  I chatted a little with Chuck Mercein, who'd been on my show this week. He said he'd watched the show last night and thought that he'd sounded a little too serious, but that Tommy Joe had made up for him. It wasn't really fair to throw Tommy Joe in against the Yalie.

  “Do you own part of Channel n now?” Boyd Dowler asked me. “I turn the set on and I see you advertising bread, I see you advertising clothes, I see you advertising Pepsi, I see you advertising Citgo, I see your show. It's getting sickening. You might be overexposed.”

  “Who the hell ever heard of a guard getting overexposed?” I said.

  I had an autographed football with me, and I asked Bob Jeter to sign it. I'd brought the ball home the other day for my son Tony, and he'd looked the ball over carefully and he'd told me that Jeter's name was mi
ssing. “He's my favorite Packer, Daddy,” Tony said. “I like you as a person, but I like Jeter as a player.”

  DECEMBER 29

  Coach Lombardi talked to us this morning about the third world championship, about how much it would mean to all of us all our lives. He mentioned that Green Bay had won three straight championships in 1929,1930, and 1931, in the days before playoff games, but he said that those years didn't count. “The Little Sisters of the Poor could have won then,” he said.

  “I want that third championship,” Vince said. “AND I DESERVE IT. WE ALL DESERVE IT.”

  Then he lowered his voice and talked about the type of men who play for Green Bay. “Lots of better ballplayers than you guys have gone through here,” he said. “But you're the type of ballplayers I want. You've got character. You've got heart. You've got guts.” He got worked up, very emotional, and then, abruptly, he stopped. “OK, that's it,” he said. “That's my pregame speech. Let's go.”

  We went out on the field and he gave us two new plays to use against Dallas. One looks particularly good. The fullback, either Wilson or Mercein, will lead the halfback right up the middle. The fullback will go for the middle linebacker, and either Gilly or I will pull and block the tackle on the opposite side. Because their middle linebacker, Jordan, is so fast, we're hoping that he'll be moving, following the guard, and our fullback will be able to handle him.

  “You'd better not miss that block, Gillingham,” Vince yelled, before we even tried the play. “You'd better not miss it.”