When Pride Still Mattered: A Life of Vince Lombardi FROM OUR EDITORS
The Barnes & Noble Review
Quite simply, Vince Lombardi was the most brilliant, tough, emotional, unpredictable, loud, moody man I have ever met. And, oh yes, was he a perfectionist. He often talked about playing a football game free from error, physical and mental.
For 42 years, I covered the Green Bay Packers for The Milwaukee Sentinel, including all of Lombardi's games. I never was at ease with him. They were his Green Bay "Pacahs" and nobody had better pry into them.
After the Packers lost a game, his locker room could be an explosive minefield. Often, the same unpredictability awaited when his Packers won. Mostly, though, his post-game press conferences were made up of short answers to sports writers' short questions. Anyone who asked what he considered a dumb question would get a go-to-hell snarl. And he volunteered nothing.
At 8:30 every morning, Lombardi would stop for breakfast at a place called Sneezer's in Green Bay, pick up The Milwaukee Sentinel, turn to the sports page, and begin his day with me.
I remember interviewing Jim Taylor after the Packers had beaten the Chicago Bears, 49-0, for their third-straight victory to start the 1962 season. The headline on my story read: "Pack unstoppable -- Taylor."
"Is this what I want?" Lombardi wrote in his book, Run to Daylight, about my story. "I want them to believe in themselves, to believe that we can beat anyone, but just because we beat the crippled Bears, 49-0, I don't want us strutting and spreading overconfidence."
The Packers finished 13-1 that season and defeated the New York Giants, 16-7, for the NFL championship, the second of five league championships under Lombardi.
From the start, I wasn't prepared for Lombardi after covering five losing years of Packer football, including the infamous 1-10-1 season in 1959. Nobody was.
Even as biographer Maraniss demonstrates that the aphorism "Winning isn't everything, it's the only thing" was first uttered by a young actress in a John Wayne film, Lombardi loved slogans, and that one fit. A locker room sign read: "What you see here, what you say here, what you hear here, let it stay here... when you leave here." And he meant it.
If he didn't agree with something I wrote, he told me so -- immediately. But he never held a grudge against me.
Filled with restless energy, Lombardi was complex and more than a little puzzling. Regularly, he hosted what was termed the Five O'Clock Club, an hour-long, off-the-record chat session with the media. In essence, attendance was mandatory, even as Lombardi conversed more freely with selected friends than the beat reporters. On the eve of the first AFL-NFL World Championship Game (later termed Super Bowl I), Lombardi was relaxing at his Five O'Clock Club, reading a newspaper and watching television. He leaned around to the bar, asking for another scotch; during the lull, assistant coach Red Cochran killed the TV.
Lombardi returned, screaming. "Who turned off my program?" Cochran jumped to his feet, quickly reviving the set.
The megawatt smile lit up once more, as Lombardi resumed watching a "Tom and Jerry" cartoon. Nobody again tampered with Vince's television. The genius needed his rest.
I read the new Lombardi biography, When Pride Still Mattered, by David Maraniss, this summer while attending the Packers' training camp. Memories flooded back, good and bad.
I was privileged to know Lombardi in person, spending a decade with the man. As coach of the Packers, he was the focal point of my professional life: I covered him and the team. And, still, the book illuminates many fresh details, delivering pleasant surprise after pleasant surprise. Maraniss, a Pulitzer-Prize winning writer at The Washington Post, has beautifully, diligently re-created Lombardi's life and made more understandable Vince's inconsistent, often contradictory behavior.
While Lombardi's old-line Catholic faith was apparent, the depth of his lifelong commitment was private. For instance, Lombardi had hoped to become a priest when he was growing up in Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn, studying for the seminary in prep school. Religion remained a cornerstone for the rest of his life, as he attended 8am Mass daily and every morning offered devotions to St. Jude and St. Anthony, patron saints of loss and miraculous recovery. The outer Lombardi praised perfection and winning; the inner Lombardi sought solace with the human and the frail.
Fordham football, and the Jesuit training there, also carried forward, as did his membership in the Seven Blocks of Granite. But "Butch," as Lombardi's Fordham teammates labeled him, knew he was the least-talented member of that famed front wall.
On the homefront, Marie, Lombardi's wife, developed an alcohol addiction trying to serve the man she loved and idolized, for he often invested more in his teams than his family. Vince was easy to live with, she said, as long as he wasn't thinking about football, which was nearly always. And when Vince was in a loving mood, his timing was sometimes awkward. He was always in a rush. Marie once confessed, "Vince came home from the football office at 11am when I was baking a cake. He wanted to make love to me and got flourall over both of us." Mostly, though, Lombardi lived and breathed football.
President Kennedy asked Lombardi to come back to West Point -- where he'd stood out as a long-time assistant -- and coach Army during his successful run with the Packers. Having finally made the NFL, Lombardi was no longer interested, and he merely laughed nervously at the President's request. Kennedy understood.
--Bud Lea
Bud Lea worked 42 years atThe Milwaukee Sentinel. During his career, he served as the paper's first beat writer assigned to the Green Bay Packers, sports editor, and sports columnist. Since his retirement in 1995, he continues to write for Packer Plus, a weekly magazine published by The Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.
ANNOTATION
Finalist in Frankfurt eBook Award 2000, for Best Nonfiction work originally published in eBook form
FROM THE PUBLISHER
More than any other sports figure, Vince Lombardi transformed football into a metaphor of the American experience. The son of an Italian immigrant butcher, Lombardi toiled for twenty frustrating years as a high school coach and then as an assistant at Fordham, West Point, and the New York Giants before his big break came at age forty-six with the chance to coach a struggling team in snowbound Wisconsin. His leadership of the Green Bay Packers to five world championships in nine seasons is the most storied period in NFL history. Lombardi became a living legend, a symbol to many of leadership, discipline, perseverance, and teamwork, and to others of an obsession with winning. In When Pride Still Mattered, Pulitzer Prize-winning author David Maraniss captures the myth and the man, football, God, and country in a thrilling biography destined to become an American classic.
SYNOPSIS
When Pride Still Mattered is the quintessential story of the
American family: how Vince Lombardi, the son of an immigrant Italian
butcher, rose to the top, and how his character and will to prevail
transformed him, his wife, his children, his players, his sport, and
ultimately the entire country.
FROM THE CRITICS
Sports Illustrated
The best sports biography ever published.
Allen St. John - NY Times Book Review
...painstakingly reveals the underpinnings of the coach's philosophy...Maraniss never forgets that he is profiling a subject who was acutely aware (and in great measure the creator) of his own legend...[He] has a superb eye for detail.
Esquire
...Maraniss attempts to answer, at last, the eternal question: Was Lombardi half the man that Jerry Stiller made him out to be in those Nike ads?
Publishers Weekly
In the history of American sports, no coach has been mythologized as much as the Green Bay Packers' Vince Lombardi (who has been immortalized with, among other tributes, a rest station on the New Jersey Turnpike). Yet this fine biography from a Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter for the Washington Post is a blast of cool air among the usually overheated roster of sports biographies. From Lombardi's formative years as a player and coach at Fordham University through assistantships with West Point and the Giants and, finally, to his tenure as head coach of the Packers, Maraniss presents a portrait of a complicated human being who was a great teacher but a mediocre listener, an effective psychologist despite being rife with flaws. Though he often got hurt as a college athlete, Lombardi, as a coach, scorned players who couldn't withstand injury. His relationship with his wife and children was less than ideal. But Maraniss doesn't succumb to any reductive assessments of Lombardi as "tragic" or "heroic." As legend suggests, Lombardi was indeed a great motivator, but his success also derived from a cerebral approach to the game. The book's true punch comes from its myriad subplots: a hero from one small town (early 20th-century Brooklyn) revitalizing another in the Upper Midwest, or professional football and Lombardi coming into their own at roughly the same time. Maraniss spends far too much time on people and events whose influence on Lombardi isn't made apparent, and he relies too much on other sportswriters' descriptions of games. Yet like its subject, the book, for all its flaws, is intricate, ambitious and satisfying. (Oct.) Copyright 1999 Cahners Business Information.
Library Journal
Clinton biographer Maraniss's rich, resonant, and grown-up biography of Green Bay Packers coach Vince Lombardi is full of the kind of surprises good research can yield (e.g., his New York butcher father had work and play stenciled philosophically on his hands). The book transcends the sports world, much as its iconic subject eventually did. (LJ 8/99) Copyright 2000 Cahners Business Information.
Read all 8 "From The Critics" >