| | Editor's note: Retired Texas sports editor Denne Freeman covered Tom Landry and the Cowboys for 30 years. Here are his memories of Landry:
IRVING, Texas -- Nobody ever got that close to Tom Landry.
But I saw a side of Old Stone Face many never got a chance to
witness.
He could make a joke, take and give a friendly verbal jab, and
be a warm golf companion.
We all know what Landry did and how he did it. He took an
expansion team in the early 1960s and molded it into a football
machine that produced 20 consecutive winning seasons and two Super
Bowl champions over 29 years.
|  | | Tom Landry is inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 1990. |
His innovations included the 4-3 defense and returning the
spread formation to the NFL. And so much more from the coach who
died Saturday at age 75.
He did it his way. He ran the show and called the plays. And
under his famous felt hat he showed an emotionless, expressionless
face that only the late Ben Hogan could match.
Not even the media could escape his stern gaze during practice.
Once from his tower at training camp in Thousand Oaks, Calif., he
spied a journalist sitting down on the sidelines soaking up some
sun. Landry barked some orders through his bullhorn.
"Coach Landry says everyone stands at practice and please put
your shirt back on," said a messenger sent by Landry.
Years later, when I got the nerve, I asked Landry why he was
worried.
"It's difficult for someone to scramble to their feet and get
out of the way if a play comes in that direction," Landry said.
Then, with a weak smile, he added, "We would have to delay
practice 15 minutes while we carried you off. And you don't have
enough muscles to go around without a shirt on."
Landry had his rules and everyone followed them, including the
media.
He was always on railroad time for his luncheons. He would heap
food onto his plate, sit in the same seat and answer questions
after he finished his meal.
His answers usually didn't reveal much because there was always
a quarterback controversy over Don Meredith or Craig Morton or
Roger Staubach or Danny White. Seldom would he reveal his starter,
not wishing to give the enemy an edge. It drove the media and
general manager Tex Schramm crazy.
Once I ran into Schramm outside Landry's office. Tex was
listening through the keyhole.
"I'm just trying to find out who my damn quarterback is going
to be this week," Schramm said sheepishly.
Landry got more out of the luncheons than he gave. He didn't
dash off because there was useful information at hand. Slowly
eating his pie, he would listen to writers asking the opposing
coach questions on a conference call.
The information Landry wanted was the other team's injury
report. If nobody asked, Landry would ask nearby writers, "Don't
you want to know who's hurt?"
This way, Landry could beat the league in getting the
information and save several useful hours in preparing a game plan.
For journalists he felt comfortable around, he always had a
needle or a quip.
One writer got to a luncheon late because his old car broke
down. Landry looked at him, shook his head and said, "I'm sure
glad you're not my problem."
Once I played golf with Landry in a tournament and he was holing
putt after putt.
"I think I figured out why you didn't get to the playoffs this
year," I said.
Landry just laughed.
Several holes later, after I made a birdie, he replied, "Bet
you didn't win any awards, either."
Landry had no friends among the players.
"I have to keep my distance so I can make objective calls on
tough decisions," he said. "If they got too close they might be
tempted to use that friendship as a personal crutch."
Landry admitted he was a stone-cold ice man on the sidelines for
a reason.
"My players had to believe I was under control," Landry said.
"It would have hurt the team for them to see me losing it."
Once I asked Landry in a private conversation if coaching a
professional team was harder than crash-landing a B-17, which he
did as a pilot in World War II.
"It's about the same," he said. "If you lose your cool in
either situation it's a disaster."
Landry was easier to be around after the Cowboys' first Super
Bowl victory, which shed the mantle of "Next Year's Champions."
It relaxed him until the late 1980s, when he finally started
running out of veteran players.
You could tell he was pressing again like the pre-Super Bowl
years trying to rebuild the team. The 1988 season was a miserable
one for him as the team lost 10 games in a row. Media criticism was
brutal and even Schramm and owner Bum Bright joined the negative
chorus.
"That's the nature of the beast," Landry said one day. "It
feeds on losses and eats you up, no matter how much success you've
had."
Landry thought he could get the team back to the top. New owner
Jerry Jones had his own agenda. Landry was fired in February 1989
while making plans for the upcoming season.
In his first interview after Jones fired him, Landry was bitter
because he had some of his dignity stripped away.
Old Stone Face had tears welling in his eyes as he said, "I
guess they'll forget me pretty quick."
Tom, nobody did. You were one of a kind. | |
ALSO SEE
Former Cowboys coach Landry dead at 75
Garber: Landry's lasting legacy
Jaworski: Landry's innovations changed NFL
AUDIO/VIDEO
 Tex Schramm remembers Tom Landry as an innovative coach.
wav: 243 k
RealAudio: 14.4 | 28.8 | 56.6
Randy White says that Tom Landry could 'walk the walk.'
wav: 91 k
RealAudio: 14.4 | 28.8 | 56.6
|
