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i spent a lot of time in the city from '90 to '95 and it was extremely pleasurable to answer "Dallas" to the question where are you from after that game when jimmy shoved it up their ass no lube

Along those lines, around the same time, buddy of mine lived in the city. Snobs would ask him where’d you go to college. He’d say UT, where’d you go? Many times the response was Cal Berkeley. His response was oh yea, that great, my asistant went to Berkeley. Which was true. Watched this play out to perfection several times. I’m 100% convinced that’s the only reason he hired her.
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Loved watching the games he did with Pat Summerall during the early ‘90s! It seemed as if they did every Cowboy game when they were good, as well as ushering in the Fox Network into the NFL! He even had his own “trophy” for the Turkey Day game.

Back then being on the “All-Madden” Team was like being in the Pro Bowl! He/Fox also started the “telestrator” (neon marker on the TV screen). He was the best, because he’d draw the most funniest shit and made it relevant!

I think he meant as much to the NFL as a commentator as he did as the coach for the Raiders. I read his book “One Knee Equals Two Feet”, as a teenager in the late ‘80s. Now as a TXHS FB official, I’ll never forget that title and ruling. RIP John Madden!

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1 hour ago, Radical Larry said:

 

 

 


RIP

 

 

If I had Jeff Bezos-type money, I would figure out a way to clone Summerall, Madden, and Keith Jackson and then have them sit around a table trying to figure out how to do a promo for "Emily's Reasons Why Not".

Edited by HornOnTheBayou
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I also remember towards then end of the Madden/Summerall duo that he pretty much carried them during the second half, because Pat had his “Seventh Inning +” Harry Carry going on in the booth and was tying one on! I’m sure they had ground transportation to the airport, so he/they didn’t give a F!

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This is cool… from the NYTimes article about Madden:

At his core, though, Madden was a coach and by extension a teacher; as he proudly noted in interviews, he graduated with a master’s degree in physical education, a few credits short of a doctorate, from California Polytechnic State University in San Luis Obispo.”

 

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4 hours ago, Dilligas said:

Wow just watched the special Saturday, figured there was a reason for it.

Awesome life

Same.  He was such a part of my teenage NFL years.  I never got tired of his schtick b/c it was genuine.  I also loved his Raider teams; win or lose; flat out badasses.

The man loved football and it loved him back.

Enjoy NFL Valhalla, Mr. Madden; you sure as hell deserve it. 

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27 minutes ago, Deej said:

NPR this morning just having to be contrary...

"He lived long enough for his legacy to be complicated by the violence he encouraged in the game."

Fuck off.

And NPR doing what it does best, falling on its weird, nerdy face with comments like that.  That reporter had to look up what N-F-L stands for probably.   

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RIP you were very entertaining.

The thing I remember most is him in an interview explaining how he thought he knew football and then he attended a Lombardi clinic and Lombardi went on to spend hours on a single play explaining all the integrate details and it made him feel like he had a long way to go.

Edited by DanTheHorn
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12 hours ago, Murfdogg21 said:

I’ve never heard anyone speak poorly of him. There is nearly universal praise for the person he was and contributing to the growth of football by changing how broadcasting was done. Somebody earlier said it was nostalgia, either the broadcasting, the play, or both. I don’t believe so. Late 80s to mid 90s NFL was the apex of football for the period between the forward pass up until the spread and analytics. Madden and Summerall were better to listen to, or at least more enjoyable, than Cosell or Keith Jackson. And what does today’s generation have to celebrate? Joe Buck and Chris Collinsworth? Despite announcing several Super Bowls and almost every World Series for a generation, people won’t feel the way about Buck that they do about Madden. 

Some damn good announcers from my childhood and young adulthood.  Madden, Summerall, Keith Jackson, Vin Scully, Jack Buck -- I could listen to them call any game.

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16 hours ago, MirrOlure said:

Pat Summerall and John Madden (NFL)

Vin Scully and Joe Garagiola (MLB)

Dick Stockton and __________(NBA)

You knew it was the biggest game of the week.

For me it was Harry Caray, Keith Jackson, Madden and Summerall. Watching sports just isn't what it used to be. 

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Quote

 

John Madden, iconic Raiders coach, NFL video game namesake and TV commentator, dies at 85

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Because of his video game empire and his hilariously bombastic broadcasting style, it might be easy to forget that John Madden was one of the best coaches in NFL history, too.

Madden, who died Tuesday at 85, helped transform the Raiders into a decade-long power, a renegade outfit that proved as wildly irreverent — and deceptively brilliant — as the coach himself.

“On behalf of the entire NFL family, we extend our condolences to Virginia, Mike, Joe and their families,” NFL commissioner Roger Goodell said in a statement Tuesday night. “We all know him as the Hall of Fame coach of the Oakland Raiders and broadcaster who worked for every major network, but more than anything, he was a devoted husband, father and grandfather.

“Nobody loved football more than Coach. He was football. He was an incredible sounding board to me and so many others. There will never be another John Madden, and we will forever be indebted to him for all he did to make football and the NFL what it is today.”

The Raiders said in a statement: “Few individuals meant as much to the growth and popularity of professional football as Coach Madden, whose impact on the game both on and off the field was immeasurable.”

Just a few days ago, on Dec. 25, Fox aired a documentary, “All Madden,” chronicling his life as a coach, commentator, pitchman, husband and father.

With his frantic gesticulations and a tie that never quite fit, Madden’s sideline demeanor offered comic relief in the era of stoic taskmasters like Tom Landry and Bud Grant. Raiders players sometimes called him Pinky because “you could always tell he was mad when his face got red,” linebacker Ted Hendricks once said.

But the counterculture coach and his free-spirited teams demolished opponents with ruthless efficiency, as Madden amassed a 103-32-7 regular-season mark before abruptly retiring in 1978. When Madden walked away from coaching at age 42 — just shy of half his lifetime — his .739 winning percentage ranked as the highest in NFL history for a coach with at least 100 wins.

And that, more than any “boom!” or “whap!” or “doink!” uttered over the airwaves, is what earned him enshrinement in the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

“Time never really stops for the great ones,” owner Al Davis said during Madden’s induction ceremony in 2006. “We wrap them in a cloak of immortality and remember what great people they were.”

Madden never had a losing season and captured seven division titles in his 10 years as coach, but even his greatest triumph came with an air of everyman levity. On Jan. 9, 1977, after the Raiders walloped the Minnesota Vikings 32-14 in Super Bowl XI, players carried him off the field in celebration — or tried to, anyway.

“I was told it took like five or six guys to lift me up, then they dropped me,” Madden recalled years later of his lone Super Bowl victory. “But that’s OK, because that was me and that was them. You carry him off for a while — boom! — you dump him on the ground. It was the happiest moment of my life.”

Madden, who became a longtime Pleasanton, Calif., resident, had open-heart surgery on Nov. 30, 2015, and mostly withdrew from the public eye after that, with the exception of his annual charity bocce ball tournament with former 49ers coach Steve Mariucci. 

Up until then, John Earl Madden was the most relentlessly gregarious ambassador the sport of football has ever known. He popularized the game while winning 16 Emmys as a broadcaster while also presiding over a “Madden NFL” video game franchise that ranks among the top-selling titles of all-time. 

Madden carved much of his legacy zig-zagging the country in his “Madden Cruiser,’’ a 45-foot luxury bus equipped with three plasma TVs, a queen-size mattress and a sauna/shower.

Madden swore off airplanes in 1979, a decision he explained as claustrophobia, not fear of flying. But he loved the game his whole life.

“Football is what I am,” he once said. “I didn’t go into it to make a living or because I enjoyed it. There is much more to it than just enjoying it. I am totally consumed by football, totally involved.”

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Madden, of course, followed up his coaching stint with one of the most remarkable second acts in sports history.

He debuted as a color commentator with CBS in 1979 and went on to earn 16 Emmys, emerging as a transformative figure whose telestrator work and folksy playfulness — “Turducken,” anyone? — set a new gold standard for television analysts. At the peak of Madden’s broadcasting powers, in 1994, he signed a four-year contract for $32 million which, as TV Guide quickly noted, was more than any NFL player was making at the time.

Madden, like Yogi Berra before him, had a knack for nonsensical phrases that arrived with an air of fortune-cookie wisdom.

For example:

• “Hey, the offensive linemen are the biggest guys on the field. They’re bigger than everybody else, and that’s what makes them the biggest guys on the field.”

• “He was standing in the hole waiting for something to develop …. and WHAP! He got developed.”

• “Don’t worry about the horse being blind, just load the wagon.”

As John Leonard, a critic for New York Magazine, wrote of Madden in 1984: “We need him because we are otherwise in danger of confusing fun and games with serious news.”

Born April 10, 1936, in Austin, Minn., Madden turned life into a playing field almost from the start. His parents, Earl and Mary, moved the family to Daly City, Calif., when John was little and constantly encouraged him to play sports.

Madden was a standout two-way lineman at Jefferson High School and also a terrific catcher on the baseball diamond. By the time he was a sophomore, he was playing on three or four different teams one summer and decided to quit a few of them so he could make some spending cash.

Instead, Earl Madden, who made a modest living as an auto mechanic, slipped his son a few extra bucks and told him, essentially, play ball.

“He said, ‘Don’t work. Once you start work, you’re going to have to work the rest of your life,’’’ Madden recalled during his Hall of Fame induction speech.

Some of his early Daly City playmates turned out OK, too. Madden’s elementary school chum was John Robinson, who would grow up to coach USC to three Rose Bowl victories. They met when they were 9.

“We were degenerately absorbed in sports, only sports,” Robinson told Sports Illustrated in 1987. “Madden and I had it figured: We’d play for the Yankees in the summer, the 49ers in the fall. Later, we began to see what the chances of doing any of that really were. So the coaching fantasy came fairly early to us both.”

Madden’s college playing career never really took flight. He started out at Oregon, transferred to College of San Mateo and finished up at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo.

The Philadelphia Eagles drafted him in the 21st round (244th overall) in 1958 but a knee injury in training camp torpedoed his playing dreams.

Instead, Madden got his teaching degree — which he put to use on the gridiron. He started as an assistant coach at Allan Hancock College (Santa Maria) in 1960 and was promoted to head coach by ’62.

From 1963 to 1966, he served on the staff at San Diego State (where he crossed paths with another brilliant strategist, Don Coryell). The Raiders hired Madden as a linebackers coach in 1967 and he was such a meteoric force that Al Davis could hardly wait to hand him the reins. He anointed Madden as his head coach in 1969.

“Who the heck names a guy 32 years old as a head coach?” Madden once said. “Al Davis did. But he not only named me head coach, he stood behind me and he helped me and he provided me with players — with great players.”

Soon, Madden’s sideline histrionics became a staple of the most famous games in Oakland history. The Sea of Hands. The Immaculate Reception. The Heidi Game. Ghost to the Post. The Holy Roller. Madden was the coach for all of them.

Not exactly one for rules, Madden’s list of edicts would fit in a tweet these days. Former tight end Ted Kwalick once said that Madden’s laws consisted essentially of “don’t be late” and “do your job.”

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Madden’s view was that fewer rules to make meant fewer rules to break.

“To me, discipline in football occurs on the field, not off it. (It’s not) a coat and tie and a clean shave,” he wrote in one of his several books.

It worked, especially against the established old guard. In head-to-head, regular-season matchups against 10 future Hall of Fame coaches from his era, Madden went 36-16-2 (.685). The playoffs were a different story, as his playoff record was a modest 9-7. The Raiders lost six of their seven conference title games under Madden, the perils of competing against the potent Pittsburgh Steelers and Miami Dolphins of the 1970s. Five of Madden’s first six losses in the postseason were all to teams that went on to win the Super Bowl.    

“It was crazy,” former Raiders linebacker Phil Villapiano once said. “We kind of thought we were ready by ’75. We lost in the Immaculate Reception in ’72, we lost to Miami in ’73, lost to the Steelers in ’74, and then we lost to the Steelers again in ’75, and we thought we were better.

“When it came to ’76, Coach knew we were ready. All we talked about all year was the Super Bowl. You have to forget the other stuff by looking at the big prize, so we didn’t worry about the game-to-game, we worried about winning the whole thing. We enjoyed the run. You know, everybody hated us anyway, so we got meaner and nastier. It was just fun.”

After the Raiders went 9-7 in 1978 and missed the playoffs, Madden retired from coaching and vowed to never come back.

This proved wise, both for his new business ventures and for his home life. He’d married Virginia on Dec. 26, 1959, but in his 1984 book, “Hey, Wait a Minute (I Wrote a Book!)” Madden admitted that he was so out of touch with his family that he thought his son was 12. He was 16.

“They talk about how hard coaches work. They work 18, 20 hours a day. They sleep on a couch. You know, that’s not the hard job,” Madden wrote. “The hard job is a coach’s wife, believe me.”

A younger generation of fans can be excused for knowing Madden only as the name on their favorite video game. And as with so many other things in his life, it was a bit of a happy accident.

Trip Hawkins, a Harvard graduate and founder of Electronic Arts, had played Strat-O-Matic football as a kid and recognized the appeal of X’s and O’s. He approached Madden while envisioning a game that would turn users into sophisticated play callers.

Madden knew little about gaming but offered his expertise as a chance to build a coaching tool — something akin to a flight simulator for aspiring pilots. The original collaboration — “Madden Football” — was released for Apple II in 1988 and evolved into a sensation that has yet to abate. It remains the go-to game for couch potatoes and NFL players alike, and a “real” player’s so-called “Madden rating” can seem as important to them as their NFL Scouting Combine stats.

Madden, though, missed a chance to parlay his involvement into a grand fortune. Patrick Hruby, who documented the birth of the Madden game dynasty for an ESPN “Outside the Lines” piece, wrote that Hawkins offered Madden a chance to buy as much stock as he wanted at the IPO price.

Instead, Madden pointed sternly at Hawkins and said: “I gave you my time. I’m not giving you my money.”

“That was the dumbest thing I ever did in my life,” Madden told Hruby with a laugh.

His annual All-Madden Teams during his broadcasting days were a celebration of the overlooked and underappreciated. “It’s about a guy who’s got a dirty uniform, mud on his face and grass in the ear hole of his helmet,” Madden once explained.

In a way, that was essentially Madden himself, the son of an auto mechanic who made his career largely on passion over polish. He didn’t comport himself like a football coach or orate like a network broadcaster, but he soared to the loftiest heights in both fields with a style on his own.

In his Hall of Fame induction speech, on the stage in Canton in 2006, he said he was sure that his father, who died in 1960, was looking down and laughing.

“The reason I say that he’s up there laughing right now is because I listened to him and I continued to play, and I have never worked a day in my life,’’ Madden said. “I went from player to coach to a broadcaster, and I am the luckiest guy in the world.”

 

 

https://theathletic.com/1917703/2021/12/28/john-madden-iconic-raiders-coach-nfl-video-game-namesake-and-tv-commentator-dies-at-85/

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This one has made me sadder than many celebrity deaths.  I think because the news took me back to when I really, really enjoyed watching football the most.  He and Pat S made the game so much fun.  And these seemed like the years when I watched football with many friends.  Friends I have lost touch with over the decades.  Those were great times and Madden was a great part of those times.  RIP.

 

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18 minutes ago, Jive Turkey said:

yeah, several woke fucks are shitting on a man while the body is still warm.  thankfully, the replies are not kind.

 

What a shame. Imagine if we all shit on their heroes like they do. Repeatedly. All I know is we were all blessed to have a little Madden in our lives. With all the horrible things that life brings you also get a John Madden. And that’s what makes life great imo. He was a hero of mine. Just a true legend in so many ways. Even better character than he was a coach, announcer and businessman. 
 

Fuck the haters. They hate life. They hate success and they hate it when people who work hard, work smart and live life well and to the fullest succeed. Their bs is not needed at this point. And quite frankly neither are they. 

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3 minutes ago, Nicole44 said:

What a shame. Imagine if we all shit on their heroes like they do. Repeatedly. All I know is we were all blessed to have a little Madden in our lives. With all the horrible things that life brings you also get a John Madden. And that’s what makes life great imo. He was a hero of mine. Just a true legend in so many ways. Even better character than he was a coach, announcer and businessman. 
 

Fuck the haters. They hate life. They hate success and they hate it when people who work hard, work smart and live life well and to the fullest succeed. Their bs is not needed at this point. And quite frankly neither are they. 

A professor at "Dallas College".  Who finances these imbeciles getting their worthless phds in worthless fields so they can go on and teach/indoctrinate others in wasteful fields of study?

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NPR this morning just having to be contrary...
"He lived long enough for his legacy to be complicated by the violence he encouraged in the game."
Fuck off.

Fuck off indeed.

I consider my self a fairly progressive sort of dude but I can’t take 30 seconds of fucking NPR.
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Eric Shanks the CEO/ Executive Producer of Fox Sports was on Colin earlier and he was the main driver behind the All Madden documentary. He said it was amazing they got it finished so that John could watch it together with his family on Christmas Day. They were all together according to Madden’s older son. And John went around asking what everyone thought of it and said that he really liked it a lot.

I don’t know where it streams. Assuming Fox Sports since they made it but it will air again tonite on FS1 at 8pm CT. That’s pretty cool that he was able to see it with his family before he passed. 

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1 hour ago, Johnny Sack said:

A professor at "Dallas College".  Who finances these imbeciles getting their worthless phds in worthless fields so they can go on and teach/indoctrinate others in wasteful fields of study?

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Most of this country needs a fucking shot of testosterone. Badly.

 

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1 hour ago, markstanco said:

 

New to Twitter?

Seriously, I'll never understand finding a few isolated idiots and pretending that they matter. Who cares what a few nobodies are saying? Madden was universally beloved by pretty much anyone who cared even a little bit about football. 

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15 hours ago, phdhorn said:

My image of John Madden was shaped differently after I read a Sports Illustrated article, I guess some time in the late 70's or early 80's.  After reading that article, I never saw him the same again... and among the change was he wasn't first and foremost a football figure.  He became in essence a saint.

The article/incident I'm referring to most old-timers will know well... a 1979 preseason game, Oakland vs. New England, and the hit Patriots receiver Darryl Stingley got by Jack Tatum while going for a pass.  Although the hit was legal at the time, it was particularly viscous and Stingley ended up compacting his spine and being paralyzed for the rest of his life (which eventually would lead to his death in 2007).  Stingley was taken to an Oakland hospital while the entire Patriot team got on a plane home; only a Patriots' staffer stayed behind.

Madden went through the postgame rituals and cleanup, and then it dawned on him: "I wonder how that Stingley kid is?"  He finds out that indeed he was doing terribly, and was in Castro Valley Hospital.  So what does Madden do?  Makes a beeline for the hospital, arrives, finds out where he is, finds out that he's about to go into emergency surgery.  And then what does he do?  Stays with him and comforts him up until he gets wheeled in.  Eventualy, Madden realized that he was the only person to visit Stingley at that moment, so what does he do?  He calls the airport and demands that the Patriots turn their plane, which was about to taxi to the runway, back to the gate and get to the hospital (several Patriots players did eventually go over).  

And if that wasn't enough, while Stingley recovered in Oakland over several weeks, Madden went to visit him regularly, when he was back in Oakland after games (he even offered his house for his wife to stay in for free while he recovered, but she graciously declined, wanting to be at the hospital with Stingley... nevertheless, the Maddens had her over to dinner regularly during that time, and Mrs. Madden would frequently join her at the hospital - when John was unable to due to his job. 

John Madden - sincerely and honestly concerned for the welfare of a player when no one would ever have blinked if he didn't.  Stingley never forgot that moment, and it changed his life - he said that he might have come out of the incident a much more bitter man, but for seeing the compassion and care of Madden, it deeply affected him.  They remained close friends until Stingley's death.

How do I know all of this?  Because the article was essentially an interview by Stingley, who, through several bouts of tears, said that he couldn't believe the decency of this man, and how he would always treasure how Madden cared for him, put him first.  He never forgot it either, and always spoke so lovingly of Madden it was heartwarming.

Like Stingley, that made such an impression on me of the heart of John Madden that football seemed ludicrous by comparison.  John Madden was almost, if not quite, my hero from that time.  And he also proved that he was much, much bigger than a silly game of football.

You probably read this article from September of 1983.

Hey, wait a minute! I want to talk!

After reading that article, I take two things away:  one, Madden was so much more than a coach or commentator (which, after reading various articles about him over the year I already knew) and, two, the stark difference in writing by journalists from 40 years ago versus today.  I hate that I cannot find longform writing like this article very often anymore.

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1 hour ago, Nicole44 said:

I don’t know where it streams. Assuming Fox Sports since they made it but it will air again tonite on FS1 at 8pm CT. That’s pretty cool that he was able to see it with his family before he passed. 

After debuting on Christmas Day, the documentary was set to hit a variety of streaming platforms on Jan. 3. But in the wake of Madden's death, it will now be available to watch for three months on Peacock, ESPN+ and Tubi starting Dec. 29 at midnight.

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