That one play awakened the sleeping Packers. McGee ran a deep crossing route, running from right to left across the secondary ahead of Terry Barr, the Lions' top cornerback. McHan's pass was on target and McGee caught the ball in stride and raced untouched to the end zone as the fans rose and shouted. Hornung booted the extra point to put the Packers up, 21–10.
The defense sustained the Packers' sudden momentum on the next series when Henry Jordan beat his blocker off the snap and sacked Morrall at the Detroit 1, just missing a safety. After Morrall punted the ball to the Detroit 36, the Packers went for the knock-out. McGee told McHan to look for him; Barr, normally dependable, was clearly struggling. (Barr would reveal after the game that his right knee had been injured in practice.) For the second time in minutes, McGee raced past Barr into the open. McHan, behind airtight blocking, slung the ball at McGee, who juggled it at the 5, brought it to his chest, and crossed the goal line. McHan's fourth touchdown pass of the game and Hornung's conversion gave the Packers a 28–10 lead.
The rest of the game consisted mostly of the Packer defense harassing Morrall and Rote, who briefly returned with a bandage across his nose. The fans again went through their happy ritual of counting down the final seconds and tossing their programs and seat cushions into the air. Two wins, no defeats!
In the locker room, Lombardi praised the defense, which had played superbly again, limiting the Lions to eighty-two rushing yards while throwing Rote and Morrall for sixty yards in losses. He would be handing out a lot of bills when the grades were posted.
He also praised McHan for taking advantage of what the Lions gave him. They had dared the quarterback to beat them, he said, stacking their front and leaving the pass defense short-handed and vulnerable. McHan had responded by throwing four touchdown passes in a game for the first time in his pro career.
"And he changed the call at the line on both of those late touchdowns to McGee," Lombardi said, "so he took a look at the defense and hit the weakness. That's precisely why we do that. And don't forget that he's still learning our system and our plays, so he's going to get better as he learns more."
McHan told reporters he had won back-to-back games only a couple of times in five years with the Cardinals. "It's a pleasure to play in a system like this," he said. "Everything is organi zed and thought out. There is a reason for everything we do."
He left with Whittenton and Dowler, fellow bachelors with whom he shared a rental house on the east side of town. Their car poked through streets clogged with cars filled with fans headed for bars, clubs, and restaurants. Nothing electrified Green Bay like a Packer victory. The town would be hopping.
That afternoon, the San Francisco 49ers also scored their second straight victory, pounding the Los Angeles Rams, 34–0. Red Hickey, the 49ers' voluble new head coach, had predicted his team would beat the Rams, telling reporters, "We'll rip them up. Go print that so they can put it on their bulletin board." His players had backed him up, and now the 49ers and Packers, two teams predicted to do little, would play for sole possession of the Western Division lead at City Stadium the next Sunday.
The few hundred tickets that had not been sold went quickly; a third straight sellout crowd of 32,150 would be on hand.
On Tuesday the Packers watched film of their game and also of the 49ers' win over the Rams; the 49ers had played almost perfectly, registering the first shutout of the offensive-minded Rams in a decade. That afternoon, as the players went through calisthenics before practice, Lombardi approached Tom Bettis.
"You OK?" Lombardi asked.
Bettis glared at him. Lombardi had blistered the veteran after Bettis missed a tackle late in the Detroit game. What the hell are you doing, Bettis? Do I need to find someone else to make a tackle? After the game, Bettis told Bud Jorgensen he was experiencing shooting pains in his abdomen, and x-rays showed that two small rib-bone chips had become lodged in his transverse muscle—no doubt having been jarred loose by a hit.
"Why didn't you say you were hurt?" Lombardi asked now, on the practice field.
Bettis glared again. Like all the Packers, he now heeded Lombardi's exhortation that players practice Spartanism and play through injuries.
"I was out there, Coach," Bettis huffed while running in place.
Lombardi nodded, walked away, and never again belittled his defensive signal-caller in front of the team.
After practice, most of the married players went home to their families. Jim Taylor, his wife, and their two-year-old daughter lived in a small apartment behind a bar at the edge of downtown. A grease fire erupted as his wife fried potatoes in a skillet. Taylor grabbed the skillet, ran to the front door in his bare feet, and tossed the burning grease outside, but it sloshed as he ran and drops landed on his right hand and right foot. Taylor howled. The grease had caused severe burns.
His wife drove him to the emergency room, where doctors put ultraviolet paste on the burns to seal the skin. Taylor didn't know how many games he would miss, but he wouldn't be playing for several weeks. Lombardi heard the news Wednesday morning. He was relieved Taylor wasn't more seriously injured, but disappointed to have to play without his fullback. Lew Carpenter would replace Taylor in the lineup, but Paul Hornung would pick up most of his rushing load—and it would be a heavy load against the 49ers, who had given up more than 150 rushing yards in their exhibition game against the Packers in August.
Lombardi pulled Hornung aside to discuss the situation.
We're going to try to exploit something there, Paul. I think we can run the ball on them.
Yes, sir. I agree.
But Jimmy can't go. I'm going to need you to fill in. You're going to carry the ball a lot.
Yes, sir. You can count on me.
Lombardi smiled. Hornung annoyed some of the assistant coaches with his casual attitude and playboy lifestyle, but Lombardi loved the way he played on Sundays. The Golden Boy would be filthy and exhausted by the end, having given his all.
Lombardi wanted tough guys, and Hornung was plenty tough.
No one ever doubted Lombardi's work ethic. He had worked long days as an assistant under Earl Blaik and Jim Lee Howell, and he felt compelled to attend to every detail now that he was an NFL head coach and general manager. He was gone from the rented house in Allouez by 8 A.M. on most weekdays, and often didn't return until long after dinner. Even when he made it home in time to sit down and eat with his family, he was quiet and distant, his mind on football.
Marie kept the family running. Fortunately, their kids had adjusted to living in a new place. Susan, after shedding tears initially, had plenty of friends. Vincent's senior year at Premontre was going well; his grades were good and the football team was winning. Marie wasn't seeing much of her husband, but that was typical during the season. And being the head coach's wife had its advantages. The assistant coaches left town after practice on Fridays to scout a college game the next day, flying back to Green Bay late Saturday night in time to get up and coach the Packers on Sunday. Their families had no time together on the weekends. Marie and Vince Lombardi went out every Saturday night.
Marie felt responsible for the assistants' wives; her husband had brought their husbands to town. Knowing they would be alone on the Saturday before the San Francisco game, she invited them over for lunch with their young children. Her quiet house suddenly filled with shouts and laughter.
Lombardi, meanwhile, oversaw a light "walk through" practice on Saturday morning and then headed for the Oneida Golf and Riding Club. He teed off at noon with his regular golf buddies, including Jack Koeppler, the insurance man. The weather was chilly and he only played nine holes, but the brief break from football relaxed him. That night he and Marie went out with friends.
By the time he rousted Vincent for their weekly drive to St. Willebrords and City Stadium early Sunday morning, he was anxious to coach some football.
A cold front moved in that Sunday. The sky darkened and a light mist fell around noon as the temperature dropped into the thirties
and a twenty-mile-per-hour wind blew. If the temperature fell much more, there would be snow—on October 11!
City Stadium's press box was packed for the NFL's biggest game of the week. Aside from the Packer press contingent, reporters from seven West Coast papers, the Washington Post, and the Minneapolis Star were present, as was Tex Maule, the pro football writer for Sports Illustrated, covering a game in Green Bay for the first time.
The Packers were taut and focused. They won the coin flip and Lombardi took the ball. On the game's first snap, at the Green Bay 20, McHan retreated to pass, found no open receivers, eluded two rushers, and ran upfield. Gregg cleared a path for him, and he gained nineteen yards before being tackled. On the next play, Carpenter swept left for ten behind Kramer and Thurston. Then Hornung swept right for fourteen.
The 49er defenders dug in, annoyed to be getting trampled a week after shutting out the Rams. They were led by thirty-five-year-old Leo Nomellini, a crusty stump of a tackle, and Jerry Tubbs, an agile twenty-four-year-old middle linebacker who had never lost a game as a Texas high school player or in college at the University of Oklahoma. But the Packers continued to move, picking up another first down on three runs as Jim Ringo effectively blocked Tubbs. At the San Francisco 30, McHan dropped back as the line gave his receivers time to run their patterns. McGee faked inside, faked outside, and sprinted past a cornerback for the end zone. McHan lofted the ball high and far ahead of him—too far, it first appeared—but McGee caught up with it, grabbed it with his fingertips, and held on as he crossed the goal line and tumbled.
The crowd thundered. What a start!
The Packer defense took the field with high hopes, having played brilliantly in the first two games, blunting rushes, pressuring quarterbacks, and allowing just one touchdown. But the 49er offense posed a stern challenge. Y. A. Tittle had a strong arm, and his receivers included Billy Wilson, a five-time Pro Bowler who ran precise routes, and R. C. Owens, a big-play specialist. The backfield featured versatile halfbacks J. D. Smith and Hugh McElhenny, both of whom could run and catch, and rugged fullback Joe Perry.
The 49ers had scored seven touchdowns in their first two games, and they rolled toward another on their first possession. Perry earned a first down on a run up the middle. Tittle hit Wilson for fifteen. Perry picked up another first down up the middle, as Hanner and Jordan yielded. Then Bettis, playing with those bone chips, stopped a run to put the 49ers in a third-down situation at the Green Bay 21. Tittle changed the play at the line but his receivers didn't hear the audible and the play fell apart. The 49ers settled for a twenty-eight-yard field goal by their rookie kicker, Tommy Davis.
The Packer offense picked right back up on its next possession. Four straight runs by Hornung and Carpenter produced twenty-two yards. McIlhenny, seemingly trapped off left tackle, kept his balance, found a seam, and gained twenty to the San Francisco 38. Then McHan began to lean on Hornung. The Golden Boy ran around right end for six, off left tackle for five, and up the middle for four. After a short run by Carpenter, McHan passed to Hornung in the left flat for eight and a first down. A pass moved the ball to the 8, and McHan called for Hornung to sweep right. Kramer and Thurston pulled together, Knafelc sealed off the linebacker, Gregg took the end down, and Hornung raced to the end zone between sprawled-out defenders—the perfect execution Lombardi had demanded. Hornung's extra point gave the Packers a 14–3 lead. The offense left the field to sustained cheers.
"How to go there!" Lombardi shouted above the din.
The Packer defense made stops on the next two 49er series when Bettis and Currie red-dogged and tackled Tittle for losses. But the 49er defense also began to assert itself, as Nomellini and Tubbs battered Hornung, and McHan misfired on third downs. The Packers led at halftime, 14–6, and Lombardi saw little to correct. The Packers were throwing hard blocks, harrying Tittle, and stopping Perry and Smith, yet they led by just eight points, a deficit easily overcome. Lombardi told them to limit their mistakes and not let down. This game could tighten up in a flash.
His fears were realized in the third quarter. The Packers made a first down to get started, but then McHan floated a pass for McGee on the right sideline and the 49ers' Dave Baker grabbed it and sprinted untouched down the sideline until Hornung pushed him out of bounds at the Green Bay 12. On second down, Wilson, the crafty receiver, ran a zigzag route and got behind John Symank. Tittle threw the ball on a low, hard line, and Wilson grabbed it in the corner of the end zone. The extra point cut the Packers' lead to 14–13.
The Packers came back with a drive dominated by Hornung runs, but it stalled at the San Francisco 45 and Hornung's field goal attempt flew wide. The 49ers started a series at their 20 with five minutes left in the third quarter. On third down, Tittle faded to pass and could hardly believe what he saw. Owens had slipped behind the defense and was all alone at midfield. Tittle lobbed the ball to him, and Owens caught it and turned for the end zone. Whittenton, who had blown the coverage, chased Owens and went for the tackle at the 25, but Owens wiggled his hips, slipped free, and continued on to the end zone, completing a seventy-five-yard scoring play.
The crowd went silent as the 49ers whooped and celebrated on their sideline. The fans could barely fathom the sudden change in the game—and for that matter, neither could the Packers. The extra point put the 49ers ahead for the first time, 20–14. Snowflakes began to swirl in the crosswind as the temperature dropped. It was hard not to sense the Packers' early-season magic suddenly dissipating, and the gloomy mood in the stadium worsened when a linebacker tackled McHan for a loss on the next series, forcing a Packer punt. The 49er offense zoomed downfield again, mixing runs and short passes to move into Packer territory.
On a first down at the Green Bay 28, Tittle faded to pass and surveyed the field for open receivers. But he didn't have time to plant and throw, as Forester, rushing hard, forced him out of the pocket. Tittle ran right, but Forester grabbed him and threw him down for a twelve-yard loss. The third quarter ended before the 49ers could run another play, so Tittle went to the sidelines and conferred with 49ers coach Red Hickey, who called a trick play. Tittle would hand off to Perry going up the middle, but Perry would stop before he reached the line, turn, and lateral the ball back to Tittle. Meanwhile, the receivers would go deep and hopefully pass Packer defensive backs rushing to the line to stop the run. Tittle would toss the ball to an open receiver for a touchdown.
The fake fooled the defensive backs, who charged up to stop Perry as the receivers slipped beyond them, but Dave Hanner sniffed out the ruse, burst past his blocker, and slammed into Perry just as the 49er back was turning to lateral. Jolted, Perry dropped the ball, and Hanner scrambled to it and fell on it. The fans cheered, relieved that the 49ers' momentum had been blunted. But could the Packer offense get going? It hadn't scored since the first quarter.
Hornung had been carrying the ball all day, filling his usual load as well as Taylor's. McHan sent him left on a sweep, good for six yards. Then Carpenter ran behind Masters for five, moving the ball into San Francisco territory. McIlhenny had gone out with a shoulder injury, so Hornung and Carpenter were the Packers' only healthy backs. On first down, Hornung absorbed a searing hit to the right side of his helmet as he swept right. He stayed down as the other players returned to their huddle. A timeout was called and the Packers' trainers trotted out to tend to him.
My neck is stinging! Damn! My shoulder is stinging!
Hornung couldn't get up. The trainers called for a stretcher, but then the Golden Boy slowly rose and walked off the field without assistance.
After a run by Carpenter picked up two yards on second down, Hornung trotted back onto the field. He had told Lombardi he could play. Let me go back out there, dammit! I can go! On third down he drifted into the right flat and McHan threw him a soft pass. He started to run, broke a tackle, and fell forward just far enough to pick up a first down. The ball was now on the San Francisco 39.
The Packers had lived by their running game all day, but now th
e passing game suddenly opened up. McHan faked a toss to Hornung, retreated, and searched the field. Knafelc, after faking a run block, ran straight downfield and turned. As he did so, McHan's line drive hit him in the chest, and he held on for a twelve-yard gain. On the next play, Knafelc again faked a block and ran downfield, this time cutting across the secondary. He got one step ahead of the safety and McHan's pass led him perfectly. The fifteen-yard gain put the ball on the San Francisco 12.
The crowd was on its feet, urging the offense on. McHan tossed to Hornung, who ran left on a sweep. The 49ers' Matt Hazeltine smelled out the play and brought Hornung down for no gain. Hornung rose slowly and walked off the field holding his neck. On second down McHan dropped back and threw for McGee on the goal line, but a cornerback broke it up. That left the Packers facing third-and-ten at the 12. Hornung came back onto the field, and McHan faked a toss to him, dropped into the pocket, and searched the field. Knafelc ran straight downfield, faked left, and cut right. McHan's throw led him perfectly, and Knafelc grabbed it for the touchdown.
With the crowd roaring, Bart Starr, the forgotten man, trotted onto the field to hold for the extra point—his only duty these days. Hornung knelt in the huddle, exhausted and sore, knowing he needed to make this kick. Ringo's snap was perfect, the blocking held, and Starr grabbed the ball and put it down. Hornung's kick split the uprights. The Packers had the lead, 21–20.
The score inspired the Packer defense, which stopped the 49ers on two straight possessions as the final quarter ticked down. The Packers started a series on their 26 with five minutes to play. Hornung carried for four and thirteen yards. Carpenter went for eleven behind Ringo. But just when it seemed the Packers would run out the clock, Carpenter fumbled when hit at the San Francisco 46, and the 49ers recovered. They would have one final shot.
The crowd quieted. Tittle, who had been in many similar situations, rolled left and passed to receiver Clyde Conner for eleven yards, and then, after Smith ran for three, found Billy Wilson open for nine. The ball was on the Green Bay 30 with two minutes to play. The crowd mustered a cheer, imploring the defense to hold. Hanner smothered Smith for no gain up the middle. Tittle dropped back, but Currie, red-dogging from the left, forced him to unload the ball for an incompletion. On third down, Jordan broke through a block and pressured Tittle into throwing the ball away.
That First Season: How Vince Lombardi Took the Worst Team in the NFL and Set It on the Path to Glory Page 19