Karras had a colorful career with Lions
EDITORS NOTE: It might be a Michigan thing. But if you grew up reading the Free Press and reading books like Paper Lion, or his autobiography Even Big Guys Cry, or watching Porky's , well then you know, there was just something special about Alex Karras.
- By Jerry Green, Detroit News 10/10/12
Alex Karras hated quarterbacks. Even his own.
"They're all milk drinkers," he would say. Just about every day.
"Put a skirt on them."
Karras, when he played for the Lions, was the prototype for all the pass rushers hounding quarterbacks in the NFL today. The defensive tackles are bigger now. Alex played at 235 pounds.
But he was mean, nasty, angry — and a friendly, funny guy throughout his career, from 1958-70.
Karras, who after the NFL went on to star in television, died Wednesday in Los Angeles after a long battle with cancer. He was 77.
The linemen protecting the enemy quarterbacks received bursts of his anger, too.
Off the field, Karras wore thick, horn-rimmed eyeglasses which repeatedly slid down along his nose. You would be talking to him — and he was constantly shoving his eyeglasses back into place.
On the field, he was, well ... he did not see very well.
One Sunday in the 1960s, the Lions were playing the Bears. These were hotly contested games with plenty of shoving and quick punching, some gouging. And Karras was known to deliver a kick or two. The right guard charged with trying to block Karras would wind up bruised, battered.
On this Sunday, Karras barreled over the right guard, a blurred vision in front of him. Alex knocked the guy flat and kept doing it, sometimes trampling his opponent.
"Alex, Alex, what are you doing?" said the beleaguered Bear.
"This is your brother Ted." Alex loved to tell that story himself.
Jerry Kramer was another enemy.
Kramer played guard for the Vince Lombardi's Packers. The Lions played the Packers in the opening game of the 1967 season. Green Bay was riding its dynasty then. The Packers had soundly whipped the Kansas City Chiefs the previous January in the first Super Bowl. Kramer had co-authored a book, "Instant Replay," about the dominance of Green Bay football, about playing for Lombardi. The Packers were considered nearly invincible.
Karras was jeered by the throng in Lambeau Field as he ran onto the field with the Lions.
Early in the game, Karras burst over Kramer and nailed Bart Starr, Lombardi's great, automaton quarterback, for a large loss of yardage. Karras arose from the tangle after the sack.
"Put that in your bleeping book," Karras told Kramer. That, too, became a tale in Karras' collection of anecdotes.
Through Karras' early seasons in Detroit, the Lions were always on a prowl for a quality quarterback. Bobby Layne and Tobin Rote, king quarterbacks of the Lions' three championships in the 1950s, were gone. There was considerable turnover until the Lions traded with Cleveland for Milt Plum.
Plum was a quiet, efficient gentleman of a quarterback. [EDITOR'S NOTE: He was also one of the first in a long line of absolute bums the Lions had at QB post Bobby Layne/Tobin Rote, a line that leads directly up to the pre-Matt Stafford era. Greg Landry, Gary Danielson, Eric Hipple, Erik Kramer, Jeff Komlo, Chuck Long, Andre Ware, Charlie Batch of Crap, Scott "Bucket Head" Mitchell.]
The Lions won their first three games with Plum at QB to start the 1962 season. Then they went to Green Bay, the NFL's reigning champions. The winner of this game — 50 years ago this past week — seemed destined to control the NFL the remainder of the season.
The Lions were ahead late in the fourth quarter, 7-6. They had the ball and were trying to run out the clock. On a third down, in order retain possession, Plum threw a pass aimed for Terry Barr. Barr slipped and tumbled in the mud. Herb Adderley intercepted the pass and returned up field to the 18-yard line.
From there, Paul Hornung kicked his third field goal. Green Bay 9, Detroit 7.
Who called the pass play remains a controversial question the half-century later. To his death, George Wilson, the coach, maintained that he had called it. But many of his players said, in ensuing years, that Wilson made himself the scapegoat to protect his quarterback.
It was a vain gesture. This was the era when the Lions' defense — headed by Karras and Joe Schmidt — hated the offense.
The scene in the postgame locker room was chaotic. Plum supposedly was berated and physically attacked by teammates. Karras was accused of winding up and throwing his helmet across the locker room at Plum's head.
In the years later, after I started covering the Lions' on daily basis for The News, Karras confirmed his helmet throw with Plum as his target.
"I missed him by this much, too," Karras told me, his hands held about 10 inches apart.
And among his characteristics was a proud, stubborn streak. Karras had become part-owner of the renowned Lindell AC Bar in downtown Detroit with brothers Jimmy and Johnny Butsicaris. In 1963, Karras was involved in a gambling scheme, betting on NFL games. There were other culprits, most prominently the Packers' Hornung.
Pete Rozelle, the NFL commissioner, suspended Karras and Hornung for a season. Alex had to sell his portion of the Lindell.
Hornung repented with a public apology for his involvement. Karras refused to apologize. He never did. His emotions about Rozelle matched his feelings about quarterbacks.
Not long after Karras' return to the Lions his first wife, Joan, had a son.
"Know what I named him?" Karras told me.
I shook my crewcut.
"Alvin," Alex said and we both laughed at the comedy.
Alvin was the real first name of Pete Rozelle.
Karras was great with doling out nicknames.
Covering the team every day for years, I became Snoopy. For me, a badge of honor.
Those seasons through the 1960s and into 1970 displayed all the comic characteristics that would make him into a brilliant movie actor after football.
He worked three years as the comedy partner of Howard Cosell and Frank Gifford during the infancy of "Monday Night Football." And then he went to Hollywood.
Karras had already starred as himself in the movie version of George Plimpton's book, "Paper Lion" - an average Harvard guy trying out as a pro quarterback. And mixing with the athletes at the Lions' training camp.
Alex' most famous movie role was as Mongo in "Blazing Saddles." He played the cowboy who punched out a horse. A star was launched. Karras did many quaint character parts. He played in a sit-com series, "Webster," co-starring with his second wife, Susan Clark.
Through it all, "Monday Night Football," and the movie roles, something was missing. He was one of the defensive linemen picked for the NFL's All-Decade Team of the 1960s.
But he never has been elected to the Pro Football Hall of Fame in Canton, Ohio.
He belongs there. No doubt.
I firmly believe his refusal to show any repentance for the gambling involvement cost him. Hornung ultimately was voted in.
Alex was up a couple of times for discussion by the Veterans Committee of Hall of Fame selectors. Five of us journalists on that committee would receive recommendations from Hall of Fame members. Coaches and players.
One year when Karras was close to being recommended for the final ballot, he was deeply criticized and blocked by a former NFL coach who had also been a star player.
A battle was lost that should have been won.
- By Jerry Green, Detroit News 10/10/12
Alex Karras hated quarterbacks. Even his own.
"They're all milk drinkers," he would say. Just about every day.
"Put a skirt on them."
Karras, when he played for the Lions, was the prototype for all the pass rushers hounding quarterbacks in the NFL today. The defensive tackles are bigger now. Alex played at 235 pounds.
But he was mean, nasty, angry — and a friendly, funny guy throughout his career, from 1958-70.
Karras, who after the NFL went on to star in television, died Wednesday in Los Angeles after a long battle with cancer. He was 77.
The linemen protecting the enemy quarterbacks received bursts of his anger, too.
Off the field, Karras wore thick, horn-rimmed eyeglasses which repeatedly slid down along his nose. You would be talking to him — and he was constantly shoving his eyeglasses back into place.
On the field, he was, well ... he did not see very well.
One Sunday in the 1960s, the Lions were playing the Bears. These were hotly contested games with plenty of shoving and quick punching, some gouging. And Karras was known to deliver a kick or two. The right guard charged with trying to block Karras would wind up bruised, battered.
On this Sunday, Karras barreled over the right guard, a blurred vision in front of him. Alex knocked the guy flat and kept doing it, sometimes trampling his opponent.
"Alex, Alex, what are you doing?" said the beleaguered Bear.
"This is your brother Ted." Alex loved to tell that story himself.
Jerry Kramer was another enemy.
Kramer played guard for the Vince Lombardi's Packers. The Lions played the Packers in the opening game of the 1967 season. Green Bay was riding its dynasty then. The Packers had soundly whipped the Kansas City Chiefs the previous January in the first Super Bowl. Kramer had co-authored a book, "Instant Replay," about the dominance of Green Bay football, about playing for Lombardi. The Packers were considered nearly invincible.
Karras was jeered by the throng in Lambeau Field as he ran onto the field with the Lions.
Early in the game, Karras burst over Kramer and nailed Bart Starr, Lombardi's great, automaton quarterback, for a large loss of yardage. Karras arose from the tangle after the sack.
"Put that in your bleeping book," Karras told Kramer. That, too, became a tale in Karras' collection of anecdotes.
Through Karras' early seasons in Detroit, the Lions were always on a prowl for a quality quarterback. Bobby Layne and Tobin Rote, king quarterbacks of the Lions' three championships in the 1950s, were gone. There was considerable turnover until the Lions traded with Cleveland for Milt Plum.
Plum was a quiet, efficient gentleman of a quarterback. [EDITOR'S NOTE: He was also one of the first in a long line of absolute bums the Lions had at QB post Bobby Layne/Tobin Rote, a line that leads directly up to the pre-Matt Stafford era. Greg Landry, Gary Danielson, Eric Hipple, Erik Kramer, Jeff Komlo, Chuck Long, Andre Ware, Charlie Batch of Crap, Scott "Bucket Head" Mitchell.]
The Lions won their first three games with Plum at QB to start the 1962 season. Then they went to Green Bay, the NFL's reigning champions. The winner of this game — 50 years ago this past week — seemed destined to control the NFL the remainder of the season.
The Lions were ahead late in the fourth quarter, 7-6. They had the ball and were trying to run out the clock. On a third down, in order retain possession, Plum threw a pass aimed for Terry Barr. Barr slipped and tumbled in the mud. Herb Adderley intercepted the pass and returned up field to the 18-yard line.
From there, Paul Hornung kicked his third field goal. Green Bay 9, Detroit 7.
Who called the pass play remains a controversial question the half-century later. To his death, George Wilson, the coach, maintained that he had called it. But many of his players said, in ensuing years, that Wilson made himself the scapegoat to protect his quarterback.
It was a vain gesture. This was the era when the Lions' defense — headed by Karras and Joe Schmidt — hated the offense.
The scene in the postgame locker room was chaotic. Plum supposedly was berated and physically attacked by teammates. Karras was accused of winding up and throwing his helmet across the locker room at Plum's head.
In the years later, after I started covering the Lions' on daily basis for The News, Karras confirmed his helmet throw with Plum as his target.
"I missed him by this much, too," Karras told me, his hands held about 10 inches apart.
And among his characteristics was a proud, stubborn streak. Karras had become part-owner of the renowned Lindell AC Bar in downtown Detroit with brothers Jimmy and Johnny Butsicaris. In 1963, Karras was involved in a gambling scheme, betting on NFL games. There were other culprits, most prominently the Packers' Hornung.
Pete Rozelle, the NFL commissioner, suspended Karras and Hornung for a season. Alex had to sell his portion of the Lindell.
Hornung repented with a public apology for his involvement. Karras refused to apologize. He never did. His emotions about Rozelle matched his feelings about quarterbacks.
Not long after Karras' return to the Lions his first wife, Joan, had a son.
"Know what I named him?" Karras told me.
I shook my crewcut.
"Alvin," Alex said and we both laughed at the comedy.
Alvin was the real first name of Pete Rozelle.
Karras was great with doling out nicknames.
Covering the team every day for years, I became Snoopy. For me, a badge of honor.
Those seasons through the 1960s and into 1970 displayed all the comic characteristics that would make him into a brilliant movie actor after football.
He worked three years as the comedy partner of Howard Cosell and Frank Gifford during the infancy of "Monday Night Football." And then he went to Hollywood.
Karras had already starred as himself in the movie version of George Plimpton's book, "Paper Lion" - an average Harvard guy trying out as a pro quarterback. And mixing with the athletes at the Lions' training camp.
Alex' most famous movie role was as Mongo in "Blazing Saddles." He played the cowboy who punched out a horse. A star was launched. Karras did many quaint character parts. He played in a sit-com series, "Webster," co-starring with his second wife, Susan Clark.
Through it all, "Monday Night Football," and the movie roles, something was missing. He was one of the defensive linemen picked for the NFL's All-Decade Team of the 1960s.
But he never has been elected to the Pro Football Hall of Fame in Canton, Ohio.
He belongs there. No doubt.
I firmly believe his refusal to show any repentance for the gambling involvement cost him. Hornung ultimately was voted in.
Alex was up a couple of times for discussion by the Veterans Committee of Hall of Fame selectors. Five of us journalists on that committee would receive recommendations from Hall of Fame members. Coaches and players.
One year when Karras was close to being recommended for the final ballot, he was deeply criticized and blocked by a former NFL coach who had also been a star player.
A battle was lost that should have been won.
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