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Don’t turn out the lights, because this party ain’t over
Posted Tuesday, Dec. 07, 2010 rgalloway@star-telegram.com
Maybe he wasn’t the best quarterback who ever lived, or the toughest, or the coolest, or the funniest, or the most respected by the teammates who knew him best.
But where I came from in the ’60s, the Indian Hills section of Grand Prairie, this was one skinny white boy who thought Dandy Don was all of the above.
And still do, going on a half-century later.
Granted, I had to have help with that last part — the most respected by his teammates.
Later in life, getting to know a Walt, a Lee Roy, a Bullet Bob, etc., plus a Tex, they filled in that blank with a reverence and love that left me even more in awe.
“You sell winning, and you win with talent,” general manager Tex Schramm told me once, years after Don Meredith was gone from the Dallas Cowboys.
“When we had Meredith, he obviously had the talent, and with it, that helped build our franchise foundation of winning and our whole image of wide-open football.
“But Don had something else. He had charisma like I hadn’t seen before. It filled a locker room. Don was a character, but the right kind of character, one with a big heart and a lot of football courage.”
There were those who said Tom Landry didn’t exactly agree with Tex on the “character” part, that he wanted his quarterback to be a bit more serious.
“I’d say they both had plenty of respect for each other,” Walt Garrison, the old fullback, noted Monday, “but otherwise, Tom and Joe Don were from two different planets, personality-wise. It made for some interesting and hilarious scenes.”
Then Walt added, “at least I found Joe Don hilarious. Not so sure, of course, that Tom agreed.”
(Born in East Texas, Meredith was christened “Joseph Don,” and Garrison dubbed him “Joe Don.”)
As a huge Meredith fan, I once asked Landry about him while walking back from the practice fields at training camp in Thousand Oaks, Calif. “Coach, did you enjoy Don Meredith back in the day?”
A slight grin appeared, then Tom answered dryly, “he was different.”
At that point, Landry started walking faster, and was quickly 10 feet in front of me. I figured that was the end of that conversation.
But Tom then turned his head around without breaking stride. “And tough, too. Real tough,” he added. “He survived some bad offensive lines early on.”
There was respect in those words.
“Joe Don looked at the world so much different than most of us,” said Garrison. “One time he took five or six of us out to dinner the night before a road game, and then picked up a check of $250, which was massive in the ’60s.
“I protested and told him not to do that. His answer was that he’d just made a $250 profit off the evening. I went ‘huh?’
“He gave me that big grin, and answered, ‘I had five hundred dollars worth of fun.’ Joe Don loved fun.”
At some point, there in the Cotton Bowl, the football fun stopped. Meredith was once the king of the Cotton Bowl, from his SMU days, then to the Cowboys.
But as those Cowboys of the ’60s showed gradual improvement, the better they became with Meredith, the bigger the crowds and the bigger the expectations.
Along the way, Meredith threw some untimely interceptions at key moments, championship-on-the-line moments.
The local term “Boo Birds” surfaced in the newspapers.
Meredith became the first local jock we had to be booed off a home field. We had gone big-league, New York style. To this day, Meredith is the most booed local jock in history.
Then he up and quit football. At age 31. Retired. In his prime.
The details are blurry, with some former teammates still upset with Landry because they felt Tom could have talked Meredith out of it, and didn’t.
“Hell, when I was in high school [Lewisville] I told Joe Don I used to boo him myself,” said Garrison, laughing. “But when he quit, I think he was just tired, and so was his body. Maybe it was some of the booing, maybe it was some of butting heads with Tom. But when Joe Don quit, he quit. That’s him.”
Meredith’s final season was 1968.
Two years later, something called Monday Night Football arrived in the NFL and on ABC. It changed the nation’s viewing habits. It changed football.
Don was back in the game, this time from the press box, wearing a yellow blazer.
Quickly, Meredith became a local hero again. And a national hero.
Frank, Howard, and most of all “The Danderoo” were must-watch.
Jason Garrett, age 44, said Monday at Valley Ranch that he knew Meredith “only as a TV announcer. And a great one.” Garrett said only right now is he learning about “Don Meredith, the football player.”
Kinda scary, at least from the standpoint of making some of us kinda old. Well, not kinda. Just old.
But by the early ’70s you couldn’t find one local citizen who would admit he or she had ever booed Meredith in the Cotton Bowl.
Dandy was a TV star, the face of Texas, the voice of Texas and much beloved because of his humor, his quick wit, and his priceless verbal jousting with the New Yorker “villain,” Mr. Cosell.
The charisma that Schramm, the ultimate football salesman, had admired so much in his old quarterback was a prime-time sensation.
In the end, the life and times of Don Meredith, image-wise, was nothing but good.
And that’s the way it still was Sunday night when Dandy died in his adopted home of Santa Fe, N.M. Dead at age 72.
But don’t turn out the lights and this party ain’t over.
As Garrison and I were agreeing on Monday, a whole new generation, including Jason Garrett, is now suddenly discovering through obits what they didn’t know about the best, toughest, coolest, funniest, most respected quarterback ever.
At least that’s the opinion of Walt and me, and we’re sticking to it.
Randy Galloway can be heard on Galloway & Co. 3-6 p.m. weekdays on ESPN/103.3 FM.
Randy Galloway, 817-390-7697
Read more: http://www.star-telegram.com/2010/12/07/2684138/dont-turn-out-the-lights-because.html#ixzz17WIRhvwo
Posted Tuesday, Dec. 07, 2010 rgalloway@star-telegram.com
Maybe he wasn’t the best quarterback who ever lived, or the toughest, or the coolest, or the funniest, or the most respected by the teammates who knew him best.
But where I came from in the ’60s, the Indian Hills section of Grand Prairie, this was one skinny white boy who thought Dandy Don was all of the above.
And still do, going on a half-century later.
Granted, I had to have help with that last part — the most respected by his teammates.
Later in life, getting to know a Walt, a Lee Roy, a Bullet Bob, etc., plus a Tex, they filled in that blank with a reverence and love that left me even more in awe.
“You sell winning, and you win with talent,” general manager Tex Schramm told me once, years after Don Meredith was gone from the Dallas Cowboys.
“When we had Meredith, he obviously had the talent, and with it, that helped build our franchise foundation of winning and our whole image of wide-open football.
“But Don had something else. He had charisma like I hadn’t seen before. It filled a locker room. Don was a character, but the right kind of character, one with a big heart and a lot of football courage.”
There were those who said Tom Landry didn’t exactly agree with Tex on the “character” part, that he wanted his quarterback to be a bit more serious.
“I’d say they both had plenty of respect for each other,” Walt Garrison, the old fullback, noted Monday, “but otherwise, Tom and Joe Don were from two different planets, personality-wise. It made for some interesting and hilarious scenes.”
Then Walt added, “at least I found Joe Don hilarious. Not so sure, of course, that Tom agreed.”
(Born in East Texas, Meredith was christened “Joseph Don,” and Garrison dubbed him “Joe Don.”)
As a huge Meredith fan, I once asked Landry about him while walking back from the practice fields at training camp in Thousand Oaks, Calif. “Coach, did you enjoy Don Meredith back in the day?”
A slight grin appeared, then Tom answered dryly, “he was different.”
At that point, Landry started walking faster, and was quickly 10 feet in front of me. I figured that was the end of that conversation.
But Tom then turned his head around without breaking stride. “And tough, too. Real tough,” he added. “He survived some bad offensive lines early on.”
There was respect in those words.
“Joe Don looked at the world so much different than most of us,” said Garrison. “One time he took five or six of us out to dinner the night before a road game, and then picked up a check of $250, which was massive in the ’60s.
“I protested and told him not to do that. His answer was that he’d just made a $250 profit off the evening. I went ‘huh?’
“He gave me that big grin, and answered, ‘I had five hundred dollars worth of fun.’ Joe Don loved fun.”
At some point, there in the Cotton Bowl, the football fun stopped. Meredith was once the king of the Cotton Bowl, from his SMU days, then to the Cowboys.
But as those Cowboys of the ’60s showed gradual improvement, the better they became with Meredith, the bigger the crowds and the bigger the expectations.
Along the way, Meredith threw some untimely interceptions at key moments, championship-on-the-line moments.
The local term “Boo Birds” surfaced in the newspapers.
Meredith became the first local jock we had to be booed off a home field. We had gone big-league, New York style. To this day, Meredith is the most booed local jock in history.
Then he up and quit football. At age 31. Retired. In his prime.
The details are blurry, with some former teammates still upset with Landry because they felt Tom could have talked Meredith out of it, and didn’t.
“Hell, when I was in high school [Lewisville] I told Joe Don I used to boo him myself,” said Garrison, laughing. “But when he quit, I think he was just tired, and so was his body. Maybe it was some of the booing, maybe it was some of butting heads with Tom. But when Joe Don quit, he quit. That’s him.”
Meredith’s final season was 1968.
Two years later, something called Monday Night Football arrived in the NFL and on ABC. It changed the nation’s viewing habits. It changed football.
Don was back in the game, this time from the press box, wearing a yellow blazer.
Quickly, Meredith became a local hero again. And a national hero.
Frank, Howard, and most of all “The Danderoo” were must-watch.
Jason Garrett, age 44, said Monday at Valley Ranch that he knew Meredith “only as a TV announcer. And a great one.” Garrett said only right now is he learning about “Don Meredith, the football player.”
Kinda scary, at least from the standpoint of making some of us kinda old. Well, not kinda. Just old.
But by the early ’70s you couldn’t find one local citizen who would admit he or she had ever booed Meredith in the Cotton Bowl.
Dandy was a TV star, the face of Texas, the voice of Texas and much beloved because of his humor, his quick wit, and his priceless verbal jousting with the New Yorker “villain,” Mr. Cosell.
The charisma that Schramm, the ultimate football salesman, had admired so much in his old quarterback was a prime-time sensation.
In the end, the life and times of Don Meredith, image-wise, was nothing but good.
And that’s the way it still was Sunday night when Dandy died in his adopted home of Santa Fe, N.M. Dead at age 72.
But don’t turn out the lights and this party ain’t over.
As Garrison and I were agreeing on Monday, a whole new generation, including Jason Garrett, is now suddenly discovering through obits what they didn’t know about the best, toughest, coolest, funniest, most respected quarterback ever.
At least that’s the opinion of Walt and me, and we’re sticking to it.
Randy Galloway can be heard on Galloway & Co. 3-6 p.m. weekdays on ESPN/103.3 FM.
Randy Galloway, 817-390-7697
Read more: http://www.star-telegram.com/2010/12/07/2684138/dont-turn-out-the-lights-because.html#ixzz17WIRhvwo