John Madden and Bill Belichick Paying Respect to Each Other Will Make Your Heart Grow 3 Sizes

I wouldn't even attempt to outdo the tribute that Clem did you John Madden at the news of his passing yesterday, because he said it all, perfectly:

But I will just add this addendum. Taken from the Fox special on Madden, that aired just this past Christmas Day, it's two greats of their profession, paying respect to one another as only men who've walked in their sneakers ever could. Like a couple of generals, one retired, one still commanding troops, swapping war stories over whiskey and cigars in the Officers Club. 

Madden the TV analyst was one of the very first media members to recognize Belichick's genius, going all the way back to the conference championship games of the 1990 season when Buffalo's K-Gun offense looked unstoppable. And right there in the booth, not minutes after Bill Parcells Giants beat the 49ers, Madden was telling Pat Summerall Belichick's defense had a good chance of winning them the Super Bowl (see the last :30 of this clip):

So it's revealing in that Fox special to hear Madden say how much he continued to learn about the game from Belichick his whole life. And the respect get returned with Belichick - ever the football historian - spinning yarns about coaching against Madden when he was with Denver, how he was one of the most recognizable people in the country but still wore his sideline pass on his belt loop, how he imbued his Raiders with his own personality, and worrying that kids today might know his name only from the video game, and not his true legacy. 

Everybody:

I'm going to confess something here that I've mentioned elsewhere, including my first book (cha-CHING). As a kid, I hated John Madden. HATED. For the very reason that Belichick references here. Because I hated the Raiders and they reflected his personality. They were loud. Obnoxious. Relentless. Tough as hell. And supremely talented. Just like him. I'd see him on the sidelines waving his big meaty hands and screaming at the refs and he came across as the embodiment of everything I hated about his players. And then it all changed. 

In a preseason game, Raiders safety Jack Tatum hammered Patriots wideout Darryl Stingley with the most vicious, sadistic, and unnecessary cheap shot in NFL history (NSFLife). I was watching it on TV with my brothers on a beautiful August night while all the more well-adjusted kids in our neighborhood were out playing in the street. And in an instant, we all knew this was no ordinary hit. We were right. Stingley never walked again. Instead, he dedicated his life to raising money to helping people with spinal cord injuries while Tatum wrote a series of books bragging about his killshot, the first of which was titled "They Call Me Assassin." He never spoke to Stingley. Until he reached out after many years hoping to arrange a meeting. A meeting that would be timed with the release of another book. And to his eternal credit, Stingley told Tatum's reps to tell him to go piss up a rope. Eventually, Tatum lost a leg and ended up in a wheelchair. The doctors said it was due to diabetes, but I like to think the real cause was karma. Both men eventually died, meaning Stingley can now walk again and Tatum is being called "Assassin" by his only friend, Satan. 

The reason I bring this up is because Madden's reaction to all this was to maintain a vigil by Stingley's bedside. He was a constant presence in his hospital room, despite the fact the two had never met before. At the end of that season, he retired from coaching because what happened to Stingley bothered him so much. Despite the fact he was just 42 years old and in his final five seasons his Raiders had gone 56-16, .778, he quit the job he loved over concern for a complete stranger he had turned into a great friend in the younger man's hour of need. 

That's who John Madden was. 

Here are some other shows of mutual respect between Madden and New England. Enjoy. And Rest in Peace to one of the true greats.