The subject is golfing quarterbacks who will titillate and otherwise entertain Lake County fans for a 10th year in the Pepsi Quarterback Shootout at Buckingham Golf and Country Club later this month. But to my way of thinking the whole golfing quarterback subject can be covered in just two words. John Brodie. Period, paragraph.
Brodie, for 17 years a San Francisco 49er, was the genuine article. Name another QB who won both an NFL Most Valuable Player trophy and a PGA Senior golf tournament.
You could argue whether he was a legend or just a strange character. Whichever side you took you”d be right.
Revisit the early days of the then start-up and upstart American Football League in the 60s, when Al Davis was its commissioner. To gain parity with the “establishment” National Football League, Davis” AFL would simply steal all the big-name NFL quarterbacks.Brodie was one of the targeted, and as Murray Olderman, a long-time journalist friend of mine, recalls it, he met with the new Houston Oilers” general manager Don Klosterman at the time to determine how much it would take for Brodie to jump the NFL.
“It was at a restaurant in Hawaii, I believe, and (Klosterman) reached an agreement with John on a contract for $987,000; writing down the terms on a paper napkin,” Olderman said. “When the leagues merged shortly thereafter, Brodie sued for the money and, based on the napkin, was fully paid off.”
How good were Brodie”s quarterbacking skills? Good enough in 1961 to banish Y.A. Tittle from San Francisco to the New York Giants (where “YAT,” too, became a legend). Good enough to complete 30 touchdown passes in an era when the NFL played only a 14-game season and 24 TD passes at the ripe old age of 35. That was in 1970, the first time the 49ers made the NFL playoffs. Under coach Red Hickey, Brodie played in a revolutionary shotgun formation that had three quarterbacks in the backfield at the same time — the other two being Billy Kilmer and Bobby Waters. Whichever QB got the ball from center could pass or run.
“The 49ers walloped opponents for about half a season before Clark Shaughnessy of the Chicago Bears designed a maneuver to stop it cold,” said Dan Hruby, another old-time sportswriting associate and mentor of mine.
Brodie confided to Dan that he never liked the formation because he feared he might get killed carrying the ball. Usually, Hruby added, Brodie would head straight for the sidelines. But teammate Ken Willard said that when the game was on the line, “I never saw fear in John”s eyes.”
At his peak, Sports Illustrated carried an article that made Brodie appear to be the Scientology-advocating Tom Cruise of his time. Brodie was quoted that he could will a pass to Gene Washington or one of the other Niner receivers, to actually alter its trajectory and make it jump over the waiting grip of a defensive back.
This is not to convey the thought that Brodie — or “Brode,” as he”s been called — wasn”t athletic, but the man smoked … L&M cigarettes … constantly. Before a game, after a game, certainly during the times he was supposed to be running a mile on the streets of Goleta, the last gasp in each preseason practice at U.C.-Santa Barbara. Brodie would jog a few steps, until he was out of sight of the coaches, then find a convenient curb and light up. When the rest of the huffing 49ers completed the mile, John would jog into the stadium looking fresh.
But once sitting at the bar of a country club where he was a member, Hruby recalled, a challenge went up for him to race another member, a certain Dr. Shaninian, alleged to be a master-class sprinter. He agreed, bets went down amounting to thousands, and Brodie, after giving the good doctor a two-step jump, beat him by a nose.
… And then presumably had an L&M.
Some people think it was the smoking that led to a stroke in 2000 from which Brodie is seeking to recover. I”ll leave that to the medics.
He was, in fact, an all-round athlete when he came out of Oakland Tech and Stanford. And he usually won at any game he tried — tennis to bridge. Well, he over-extended a trifle when he tried the PGA tour. He won only $426.39 in two years. But in the PGA Senior game which he joined by giving up a successful network television career — he not only won a tournament but had several top 10 finishes.
One of the games Brodie always won was the one he played with the media. Where Joe Montana has always been regarded as shy around the media, Brodie played a kind of rope-a-dope with writers on deadline after a 49er win or loss.
The game began with Brodie sitting in his cubicle in the 49er locker room, head down, cigarette in hand, not even looking up as the writers from various media started gathering in front of him, like crows on a power line. Then, after a moment, maybe more of awkward silence, one writer would hazard a question. Perhaps about a questionable play called by John.
Brodie would raise his gaze and rivet it on the questioning writer. Then, like a father questioning a son”s folly, he would ask in an accusing tone, “Did you see the game?”
As a father, Brodie developed a legacy. One daughter married NFL quarterback Chris Chandler, another married an eminent tennis coach, a third married a soccer star and his son played on the Canadian pro golf tour.
What I liked best about John Brodie was his charm and wit. OK, forget the charm. The wit? Well, there was the time when a sports hack asked him why — when he was the starting 49er quarterback — did he hold the ball on conversion kicks.
“Because … ” said a thoughtful Brodie, “if I didn”t it would fall over.”
