RIP, George Blanda
George Blanda was one of my all-time favorite football players. He died today. It was a surprise. He�s one of those guys you never expect to die.
The 50-mile radius surrounding Pittsburgh is sometimes referred to as the �Cradle of Quarterbacks.� This may be hard to believe, but the area had that nickname for more than a half century before Terrelle Pryor was born. Blanda was one of the trailblazers.
First Team All-Cradle: Johnny Unitas, Joe Namath, Joe Montana, Dan Marino, Johnny Lujack, Len Dawson, Jim Kelly and, yes, George Blanda.
All-Cradle Honorable Mention: Jeff Hostetler, Willie Thrower, Terry Hanratty, Matt Cavanaugh, Chuck Fusina, Babe Parilli.
Active Cradle Pros: Matt Schaub, Marc Bulger, Tyler Palko.
Great Cradle Collegians: Bruce Gradkowski, Major Harris, Richie Lucas, Tom Clements, Alex Van Pelt, Sandy Stephens, Mike McMahon, Rod Rutherford, Ted Marchibroda, John Hufnagel.
And we didn�t even mention: Warren Heller, Johnny Gildea, Tom Sherman, Boyd Brumbaugh, Anthony Morelli, Coley McDonough or Charlie Batch. Or Pryor.
And I�m sure I�m missing a few. But I digress.
I can�t believe Blanda is dead. He could not be defeated. I was young when he was old � 6 years old in 1970, when he was 43 and had one of the most remarkable five-game runs in the history of quarterbacks, 9 years old in 1976, when he finally retired. I was not a huge pro football fan, but, you know, I tried to pay attention. And I loved Blanda. For most of my life, he was the answer to an easy trivia question: Who scored more points than anyone in the history of professional football?
His obituary is a compelling thing. Here�s a version from the New York Times, another from the Los Angeles Times and a look back at the miracle season of 1970 from the San Jose Mercury News. So far, I haven�t seen anything out of Oakland yet. That will be worth the read.
I have always thought of Blanda as being a lot like Larry Bird, who I had the pleasure and privilege to cover. Neither appeared to be particularly blessed when it came to athletic attributes � but that was just the ruse. Blanda didn�t have a great arm. Bird was not a leaper. But they both looked right at home in their arenas. Their respective sports made sense to them; even amidst chaos, they could process all that was before them, and probe the weaknesses in their enemies. They were both smart, savvy and a step or two ahead of most everyone else. Most of all, they shared a deep-rooted competitiveness � almost to the point where it was scary. Like Bird, Blanda was a stone-cold killer.
I thought he would live forever. He played forever.
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