Legendary Raiders punter Ray Guy

Legendary Raiders punter Ray Guy frustrated but resigned that he's not in Hall of Fame
Wed, Nov 14, 2012
http://sports.yahoo.com/news/nfl--legendary-punter-ray-guy-frustrated--but-resigned-that-he-s-not-in-hall-of-fame.html

HATTIESBURG, Miss. – Behind a desk, in a second-floor office of an old mansion-turned-college alumni center, sits a man some call the greatest punter who ever lived. Ray Guy looks old now. His once boyish face has aged. His eyes droop. A white goatee sags. He is only 62 but his voice is rich and rural in that way of a country grandpa.

He's got a bad back. "This sucker is wore out and there ain't no parts left." A few years ago he was forced to sell his three Super Bowl rings after declaring bankruptcy. "Something I had to do," he says quietly. "We all have to do something we don't want to do."

These days he works at Southern Mississippi, where he was an All-American, working with former athletes from his alma mater and helping to run the school's athletic fundraising campaign. He loves the job because it puts him in touch with old players. There are old games to remember, stories to tell.

On one wall of his office hangs a giant framed certificate that says he is a member of the College Football Hall of Fame. On the opposite wall is a poster commemorating the NFL's 75th Anniversary Team to which he was named in 1994. You can see him in the poster, wearing his Oakland Raiders jersey, No. 8. His leg is locked in an almost impossible leg kick, having just launched a football into the sky.

The poster is meant as a celebration yet it mocks him daily – a perpetual reminder that he is just one of two men on the 75th Anniversary Team who are not in the Pro Football Hall of Fame, the other being punt returner Billy "White Shoes" Johnson. And the fact Guy is not, as perhaps the greatest punter in history, might be one of the great injustices in sports today.

"He changed the game, really," says former Raiders coach Tom Flores. "It was never a glamorous position until he came along."

But because of the position he played, many of the 44 writers who make up the Hall of Fame selection committee have kept him out. They don't see punting as football. Any day now, the Hall will announce the 25 finalists who made the latest cut for the 2013 induction class. Guy won't be one of them, just as he wasn't last year or the year before. More than 25 years have passed since he left the game, so he can no longer be considered in the regular voting. If he is going to make it, he will have to rely upon the senior selection committee to bring his name forward, and this group has a long list of long forgotten players who merit serious consideration.

On occasion, when Guy speaks at a banquet or to some organization, the host will make an introduction and then an assumption, announcing him as a member of the Pro Football Hall of Fame. And Guy will shake his head and correct the host because he can't let a lie linger in the applause. And apologies will be made and Guy will assure the host that it was an honest mistake despite the awkward silence that will fill the room.

"They don't know, I'm pretty much in every damn Hall of Fame except this one," he says. "I wonder if they have a beer drinking Hall of Fame. I could be in that one, too." And Ray Guy throws back his head and begins to laugh. Because what else can you do?

Talk to him long enough and you will discover that Guy is indeed angry about the Hall of Fame. He's mad not for himself because there isn't much he can do about a voter's opinion but for the disdain some of the deciders seem to have for his position. He has camps every summer and there are hundreds of kids who come from all around to learn punting from the great Ray Guy. He worries about what they will think when they see the Hall never calls. What does it say about their dreams? What does it mean?

"I watch them and in the back of my mind I know you're wasting your time because we got some stupid people who don't understand," Guy says. "Here's a kid who's got a dream of being a punter in the NFL, but you got people here who cut him down before they even get out of the chute. So what are you telling these kids? To forget about it?"

He sighs. It is a long, deep exhale.

"I guess it all stems around people just don't understand the importance of a punter," he says. "They really don't. Unless you played. You have to be in there. You have to understand every player on that team has a position or play to do. And all they do is drag and fuss about 'well yeah he can punt and this and that and the other thing,' but they don't really respect that and they think it shouldn't be alongside the other guys in the Hall of Fame."

For a time voters called Guy. Their voices were always filled with optimism, sure that year was indeed the year. They said things looked good, support was lining up. They told him to be ready for good news. They told him to stay near his phone on the day before the Super Bowl. They said a call would be coming.

Then the phone never rang.

"I used to anticipate [the call] but not anymore," Guy says. "It crosses my mind and it's just a fluke. I don't think about it anymore. I just go on. I guess that's the way for the older vets, older than I am, who aren't in the Hall of Fame. I know it bothers them. I mean they should be in the Hall of Fame. The problem they are running into is there are too many modern guys going into the Hall of Fame over these veterans. Reason being is because of their notoriety and they are seen a lot more than these older guys are now."

He sighs again.

"It's all politics, that's all it is," he says in his drawl. "It's the same of everything in life. Everything comes down to politics."

The voters who pick the Hall of Fame meet in secret. This happens every year on the day before the Super Bowl. The panel of 44 gathers in a room at the game's headquarters and decides the fate of 17 finalists. Deliberations often go for hours. Details are rarely revealed, yet enough comes out of football's Star Chamber to know why Guy has never been voted in.

Too many people on too many of the selection committees over the last quarter of a century don't think a player who is on the field five or six times a game without making a tackle, catching a pass or setting a block should gain football immortality. Voters sympathetic to Guy talk about powerful voices on the committee, writers from important publications whose influence carried significant weight didn't even want to discuss the possibility. They talk about one in particular who dismissed Guy with a dramatic flourish, offended that a punter in the Hall was being seriously considered.

Others use statistics. They point to his 42.4 yards-per-punt average, which is tied for 78th in NFL history and say he wasn't even the best punter of his time. If they're going to consider a punter, they ask, why not pick one with better numbers?

They say this even in the rush of all good counterarguments. They stand defiant even when it is suggested that Guy was never a punter to be measured by basic metrics. They don't want to hear arguments that he turned punting into a weapon, that he never had a punt returned for a touchdown in his 14-year career, that he perfected punting out of bounds to minimize returns or that the Raiders had assembled a great offensive machine that often left him to punt with only half a field that prevented him from building more staggering statistics.

"There's always been that bias," says voter and senior selection committee member Len Shapiro. "It's been sort of mystifying. I think he's a Hall of Fame player. He was one of the best at his position in his time."

Seven times Guy was a finalist. A couple of those years, voters say, he was close to selection.

"For punters if you are great and Hall of Fame-caliber and defined the position you should go in," says recently retired punter Jeff Feagles who, along with current Raiders punter Shane Lechler, will probably be a Hall of Fame candidate himself. "I'd like to see the day they can get through a football game without punting."

Nobody taught Guy how to punt. When he was growing up in the 1960s there were no punting camps or clinics or special instructors. The best advice he ever received came from his high school coach back in Georgia who suggested he might get more power if he tilted his foot slightly to the side. Everything else: the leg kick, the high-rocketing kicks, the punts that went and went and went – such as a 93-yarder his senior year at Southern Miss – he learned himself through experimentation.
When the Raiders made him their first-round draft pick in 1973, many of the players were surprised. Who exactly was this kid from down south that was so essential they used their most cherished draft choice to get him? "I thought: We drafted a punter?" recalls Flores who was then an assistant coach. "Then when I saw him kick, it was like 'Holy cow!' I was amazed at how perfect it was when you saw it come off his foot. It just took off."

Guy developed a penchant for kicking the ball out of bounds. This was hard to do because kicking out of bounds is not as precise as booting the ball straight downfield. There was greater risk for "shanking" the ball or hitting off the side of the foot and having it wobble only a few yards in the air. But soon he perfected the technique of dropping kicks off the sideline inside the 20-yard line. This cut down on his yards-per-kick but it also eliminated returns. It seemed at the time a fair tradeoff.

Soon he was something of a kicking sensation. Since he kicked the ball so high in the air, his teammates had more time to run down and cover returns. This led to a new statistic: hang time. Coaches started talking about it. General managers searched for punters who could imitate Guy. Network telecasts put hang time counters on the television screens whenever he punted.
In fact, Guy was such a good athlete – a gifted baseball pitcher and safety at Southern Miss – that he was Oakland's No. 3 quarterback. Rather than punt on the side for a few minutes and watch workouts as most punters do, he was the scout team quarterback, playing the role of Dan Fouts or Terry Bradshaw or Jim Kelly or whichever quarterback Oakland was facing that particular week.

If Flores has a favorite memory of Guy, it is probably one many never noticed. It came in the Super Bowl XVIII victory over the Washington Redskins when he leaped high in the air and one-handedly grabbed an errant snap then managed to land, balance himself and still boot a 42-yard punt.

"If that hadn't have happened they would have gotten the ball on our 20, and it might have changed the whole game," Flores says.

So how do you quantify the immeasurable? How do you put a value on the kicks out of bounds or count the points opponents didn't score? The fact Guy never had a punt returned for a touchdown seems lost on his detractors. How then do you find a statistic that shows the value of a punter on three NFL champions?

"You need a hook," says voter Ira Miller, who covered Bay Area football for the San Francisco Chronicle and is also on the senior selection committee. "You need something that will convince people."

Voters have already shot down the angle of the greatest punter who ever lived by countering with his yards-per-punt-average. The argument that he changed the game is flimsy to those who don't believe a punter can do such things. They don't even care the honor given to the best punter in college football is called the Ray Guy Award. And one of Guy's biggest detractors apparently waved away the suggestion that Guy's role as a scout team quarterback helped the Raiders win three Super Bowls.

"Tell me what he did on the field," one voter remembers the detractor saying.

Miller and another supporter plan on approaching the Raiders at the end of the season to see if they can get access to statistics the team might have kept, including drive charts to see if there is something they can use to sharpen their case. Something has got to work.

One voter notes that Johnny Unitas, who is one of the four quarterbacks on the 75th Anniversary Team, has a lifetime passer rating of 78.2. This is tied for 73rd all time, ranking Unitas well below players like Jeff George and Dave Krieg. Another supporter points out that the one kicker in the Hall, Jan Stenerud, made fewer than 67 percent of his field goal attempts – an atrocious number by today's standards.

Sometimes the statistics just don't matter.

When the senior selection committee met this summer, Guy's name was heavily discussed. Ultimately the committee decided to make Chiefs and Oilers defensive tackle Curley Culp and Packers linebacker Dave Robinson its finalists this year. But sources say Guy came very close to being picked. One said he finished third behind Culp and Robinson. There is a thought among senior committee members that next year it will be Guy's turn.

Though senior selection committee selections have to be approved by 80 percent of the voters just like any other candidate, they are often approved. Voters tend to believe the senior selection committee has already vetted their finalists so the chances are better – 36 of the 49 senior candidates nominated have been chosen. But those weren't punters. Their selections weren't as controversial as Guy's.

"I suspect at some point he will get in, I really do," Shapiro says.

In his office, Guy frowns. Every so often someone starts a campaign to get him in the Hall. One of the most recent is from a 22-year-old college student named Steven Sawtelle who never saw Guy play, but discovered old videos when he made his high school team as a punter. Sawtelle has written to many of the voters and found several of their replies to be discouraging: "A lot of them come up with almost juvenile angles: 'He's a punter,' " Sawtelle says.

Guy is thankful but pays little attention. Some men campaign for their immortality, writing letters, practically begging voters to let them in the Hall. This is not Ray Guy.

"If it happens, it happens, if it don't, it don't," he says with a shrug. "Like I said, as long as my former teammates and my close friends and people like that realize, it's OK."

Then Guy turns to a visitor. The visitor looks at Guy, his face long, his eyes drooping and thinks that, no, it is not OK.

"If you find out the answer let me know," Guy says almost forlornly. "If you accidentally hear why they're never going to put me in, let me know before I leave this old world. I'd rather take that one with me."

If only it could be so simple.

Pro Football Hall of Fame: Smith, Rice & 5 Others

http://www.sportingnews.com/nfl/article/2010-02-06/pro-football-hall-fame-vote-makes-it-wonderful-day-be-alive

Pro Football Hall of Fame vote makes it 'a wonderful day to be alive'
Tears mingle with pride and remembrance for Emmitt Smith, Jerry Rice and five others in the 2010 enshrinement class.
Dennis Dillon
Saturday, Feb. 6, 2010

FORT LAUDERDALE, Fla. -- It was a day for tears, cherished memories and a coincidental fixation on the number 44 as seven new members were elected to the Pro Football Hall of Fame here Saturday.

Jerry Rice: "There's a sacrifice you have to make if you wanted to be great, and I respected this game."Wide receiver Jerry Rice and running back Emmitt Smith both were first-ballot selections. They will bring the most receiving yards and most rushing yards in NFL history to the shrine in Canton, Ohio, when they are inducted in August. Joining them in the Class of 2010 were guard Russ Grimm, defensive tackle John Randle, linebacker Rickey Jackson and two senior committee nominees -- Floyd Little and Dick LeBeau.

"It's a wonderful day to be alive," LeBeau said by telephone.

This Hall of Fame election was a made-for-TV event. In fact, the NFL Network televised it live from a third-floor ballroom at the Greater Fort Lauderdale-Broward County Convention Center, where the stage looked almost like a set on Letterman and nominees waited in a "green room."

The first new inductee introduced was Rice, who played 20 seasons, 16 with the San Francisco 49ers, and set almost every notable receiving record, including receptions (1,549), receiving yards (22,895), total touchdowns (208) and most 1,000-yard receiving seasons (14). Behind those prolific numbers was a rock-solid work ethic.

Former quarterback Steve Young recalled dropping by the team's facility to pick up items a few days after the 49ers had beaten the Chargers in Super Bowl 29. When he looked out on the practice field, Young saw Rice -- all alone, running wind sprints.

Under the klieg lights of the Super Bowl, Rice had caught 10 passes for 149 yards and three touchdowns. Now, with no cameras watching him, Rice was working out by himself.

Asked by NFL Network host Rich Eisen where his work ethic came from, Rice said, "I think it came from my parents and what they instilled in me." Rice then broke down in tears. After composing himself, he added, "There's a sacrifice you have to make if you wanted to be great, and I respected this game."

Smith, who played 15 seasons (13 for the Dallas Cowboys), owns several NFL rushing records, including most rushing yards in a career (18,355). He also couldn't hold his emotions in check when he related a conversation with his father.

"Son, I'm so proud of you," Smith said, recalling his dad's words. "I had the dream of doing what you're doing, but my mother got sick and I never went to college."

Little, who waited 30 years for his chance to join pro football's special fraternity, said he became discouraged two years ago and had doubts that his day would ever come.

A bowlegged running back for the Denver Broncos, Little used to go to bed at night with belts wrapped around his waist, thighs and calves because he wanted to fix his condition. It didn't seem to bother him on the field. Over nine seasons, Little rushed for 6,323 yards and 43 touchdowns.

Little and LeBeau, a cornerback for the Detroit Lions who intercepted 62 passes in 14 seasons, both wore No. 44. Little noted that there are 44 Hall of Fame voters "and there's a 44th president."

LeBeau, 72, has spent more than half a century in the NFL -- the past 37 as a coach. Currently the Steelers' defensive coordinator, LeBeau is known for creating the zone blitz as well as reciting "Twas The Night Before Christmas" from memory.

LeBeau called his election "a lifelong dream. I can't imagine anything else more rewarding for someone who made football his life's pursuit."

Grimm, now the offensive line coach of the Arizona Cardinals, played in four Super Bowls during an 11-year career with the Washington Redskins. One of the original "Hogs," Grimm was famous for executing Washington's counter trey, a running play where he and left tackle Joe Jacoby would pull around to the right side and lead the blocking for John Riggins and other backs.

Although he was an undersized defensive lineman, Randle was quick enough to have 137.5 sacks during a 14-year career with the Minnesota Vikings and Seattle Seahawks. He was known for trying to intimidate opponents by wearing face paint and yelling at them.

"I was terrified to death of John Randle," Rice said. "You looked across the line and saw this guy with makeup on his face, making faces. And he could put pressure on the quarterback."

Jackson helped the Saints make a transition from perennial losers to respectable contenders during his 13 years in New Orleans (he played his final two seasons in San Francisco). One of the elite pass rushers of his era, Jackson had 128 career sacks.

This story appears in Feb. 7's edition of Sporting News Today. If you are not receiving Sporting News Today, the only daily digital sports newspaper, sign up today.

Senior writer Dennis Dillon covers the NFL for Sporting News. E-mail him at ddillon@sportingnews.com.

Favre decides to call it a career

http://msn.foxsports.com/nfl/story/7870944/Favre-decides-to-call-it-a-career

Favre decides to call it a career
Associated Press
March 4, 2008

After flirting with retirement for years, Brett Favre means it this time. The Green Bay Packers quarterback quit after a 17-season career in which he dazzled fans with his grit, heart and rocket of an arm.

Hanging them up

Brett Favre
Green Bay Packers
Quarterback
G GS Comp Att Yds TD Int
257 253 5,377 8,758 61,655 442 288

The retirement was first reported by FOXSports.com's Jay Glazer.

"I know I can still play, but it's like I told my wife, I'm just tired mentally. I'm just tired," Favre said.

Tuesday's surprise move comes after the 38-year-old three-time MVP set several league records, including most career touchdown passes, in one of his most successful seasons.

Coach Mike McCarthy said Favre informed him of the decision by telephone Monday night.

"He said it was time for him to hang up the cleats," McCarthy said at a news conference Tuesday afternoon. "He's mentally tired, with all the little things that go into everyday preparation."

Favre's agent, Bus Cook, also learned of his decision Monday night.

"Nobody pushed Brett Favre out the door, but then nobody encouraged him not to go out that door, either," Cook told The Associated Press by phone from his Hattiesburg, Miss., office.

Packers general manager Ted Thompson thanked Favre for 16 years of wonderful memories with the team.

"His accomplishments are legendary," Thompson said. "And it's the passion with which he played that made everyone a Brett Favre fan."

The team hasn't said when Favre might address the media.

Favre led the Packers to the NFC championship game in January, but his interception in overtime set up the New York Giants' winning field goal.

"If I felt like coming back — and Deanna (Favre's wife) and I talked about this — the only way for me to be successful would be to win a Super Bowl," Favre said. "To go to the Super Bowl and lose, would almost be worse than anything else. Anything less than a Super Bowl win would be unsuccessful."

Last season, Favre broke Dan Marino's career records for most touchdown passes and most yards passing and John Elway's record for most career victories by a starting quarterback.

He retires with 5,377 career completions in 8,758 attempts for 61,655 yards, 442 touchdowns and 288 interceptions.

"He was the prototypical gun-slinger type," said Marv Levy, Pro Football Hall of Fame coach. "He's the type of guy where, 'Oh, what's he throwing into that crowd for?' But he had intuition, toughness, resilience."

Hall of Fame quarterback Troy Aikman wondered if Favre's decision was final.

"As the season gets closer, I wouldn't be surprised at all if he changes his mind," said Aikman, a Fox analyst who played 12 years with the Dallas Cowboys.

The news stunned many.

"I was surprised when I heard it this morning," former Packers general manager Ron Wolf said. "He played with such a great passion. He must have figured he no longer had that passion, and it was time to get out."


Even Favre's teammates didn't see it coming.

"I just saw it come across the TV," Packers wide receiver Koren Robinson said, when reached on his cell phone by The Associated Press.

In his final season, Favre also extended his quarterback-record streak of consecutive regular-season starts to 253 games - illustrating his trademark toughness. Add the playoffs, and Favre's streak stands at 275.

In the past several offseasons, Favre's indecision about his football future became a winter tradition in Wisconsin, with Cheeseheads hanging on his every word.

Unlike after the 2006 season — when Favre choked up in a television interview as he walked off the field in Chicago, only to return once again — nearly everyone assumed he would be back next season.

It was a remarkable turnaround from 2005, Favre's final season under former head coach Mike Sherman, when he threw a career-worst 29 interceptions as the Packers went 4-12.

Surrounded by an underrated group of wide receivers who proved hard to tackle after the catch, Favre had a career-high completion percentage of 66.5. He threw for 4,155 yards, 28 touchdowns and only 15 interceptions.

Before the Packers' Jan. 12 divisional playoff game against Seattle, Favre told his hometown newspaper that he wasn't approaching the game as if it would be his last and was more optimistic than in years past about returning.

"For the first time in three years, I haven't thought this could be my last game," Favre told the Biloxi (Miss.) Sun Herald. "I would like to continue longer."

But Favre finished the season on a sour note, struggling in subzero temperatures in a 23-20 overtime loss to the New York Giants in the NFC championship game.

Afterward, Favre was noncommittal on his future. McCarthy said he wanted Favre to take a step back from the season before making a decision.

Now he has — to walk away.

"The Packers owe him a tremendous debt of gratitude," Thompson said. "The uniqueness of Brett Favre his personality, charisma and love of the game - undoubtedly will leave him as one of the enduring figures in NFL history."

Versatile Bruce Matthews was hard to ignore

http://sports.yahoo.com/nfl/news?slug=ap-halloffame&prov=ap&type=lgns

Versatile Bruce Matthews was hard to ignore as Oiler and Titan
By BARRY WILNER, AP Football Writer
August 2, 2007

Except for the occasional holding penalty that negates a big play, offensive linemen are the anonymous creatures on NFL teams. That makes Bruce Matthews' immediate election to the Pro Football Hall of Fame somewhat remarkable.

It can take years, even decades, for blockers to get noticed by the Hall voters. Not Matthews, whose versatility and reliability for 19 seasons made him an easy choice in his first year of eligibility.

On Saturday, the outstanding guard-tackle-center for the Houston Oilers and Tennessee Titans will join Thurman Thomas, Michael Irvin, Roger Wehrli, Charlie Sanders and Gene Hickerson in football's shrine. Matthews is the only inductee to make it on his first try this year.

"If you would've told me then that one day I'd play in the NFL and one day I'd make the Hall of Fame, I would've said you've got to be kidding," Matthews said.

And if you'd told Matthews -- or anyone else -- that he would play every offensive line position, well, that would have seemed absurd. Yet Matthews did so, and excelled at all of them.

In his 296 games, more than any full-time positional player in league history when he retired, Matthews spent 99 at left guard, 87 at center, 67 at right guard, 22 at right tackle and 17 at left tackle.

Nothing he did, including the skills and leadership he brought to the field, surpassed that unheard-of versatility. That's what most impresses Jeff Fisher, Matthews' teammate at Southern Cal and his coach for Matthews' final seven NFL seasons.

"More incredible in our business is the starts he had at each different position on the offensive line. That's incredible and to play at such a high level for so many years," Fisher said.

So while Irvin "the playmaker," and Thomas, the onetime MVP, get much of the airtime, the heaviest accolades go to Matthews.

"A lot of guys can't move around because mentally it's hard, especially to go from center to tackle," said former Matthews teammate Mike Munchak, himself a Canton inductee. "Not many guys in football can do that and also play center. Usually center-guard or guard-tackle, but not a guy who can play center, run the show and do all that for you, but if someone gets hurt can go to left tackle and finish the game."

Munchak will present Matthews on Saturday night.

"I don't think there'll be too many guys like him around again," Munchak said.

Hickerson is the other offensive lineman going into the Hall. He and Sanders were chosen by the veterans committee.

As a 248-pound guard -- about 100 pounds lighter than some guards today -- Hickerson played 15 seasons for the Browns and Cleveland never had a losing record in that time. He made five straight All-Pro teams (1966-70) and was a lead blocker for Hall of Famers Jim Brown, Bobby Mitchell and Leroy Kelly. In 1964, he helped Cleveland to the NFL championship.

"Gene was the leader of a great line," Brown said, "and the greatest downfield blocker in the history of pro football."

Sanders was a standout blocking tight end who became a pass-catching threat, as well. He was a three-time All-Pro who made 30 or more receptions in a season seven times and had more than 500 yards receiving in six seasons in an era when quarterbacks rarely threw to tight ends.

"He was one of the best that we ever faced," said Bears linebacker Dick Butkus, himself a Hall of Fame member. "He was big and had good speed and was a tough guy. He could make some great catches."

So could Irvin, who is the second member of Dallas' vaunted "Triplets" on offense to make the Hall, along with QB Troy Aikman. Running back Emmitt Smith, the NFL's career rushing leader, will be a slam-dunk when he becomes eligible.

Irvin was the top receiver on three Super Bowl champions, and he made the league's All-1990s team. As a rookie in 1988, he led the league with a 20.4-yard per catch average, and he had 11 100-yard receiving games in 1995, setting an NFL record.

Irvin had several off-field problems during his career and was voted into the Hall in his third year of eligibility.

"Mistakes will cost you. That's the reality," Irvin said. "You have to pay the price for your mistakes, but, also, don't give up. Keep going and try to overcome that. That's the reality, too. I like that it worked out the way it worked out."

Thomas was the 1991 league MVP and, like Matthews, was known for his versatility. A superb runner with darting quickness and surprising power, he also was a terrific receiver. He helped Buffalo win four straight AFC titles, but no Super Bowl crowns.

"People can say what they want to say," Thomas said. "We put Buffalo on the map. Whether you want to label us as losers or winners or what have you, there have been a lot of other teams that have never been to the Super Bowl."

One of only three Hall of Fame running backs, with Walter Payton and Marcus Allen, to have more than 400 receptions and 10,000 yards rushing, Thomas also set playoff records for career points (126), touchdowns (21), and consecutive games with a TD (nine).

Wehrli was one of the game's first shutdown cornerbacks and was a starter from his rookie season in 1969 through 1982 for the St. Louis Cardinals. He was elected in his final year of eligibility, even though he was a five-time All-Pro.

"He was overdue, I'll tell you that," said Don Coryell, who coached those "Cardiac Cards."

"He's a great one. He's everything you would want in a professional football player."