Dick & Marty Cry Us A River

Vermeil, Schottenheimer Not Afraid To Show True Emotion

Unbeknownst to me, it seems that Dick Vermeil has created quite a reputation for himself as -- get this -- a crier.

It gives new meaning to why sports fans wave those hankies, doesn't it? What I always thought was a salute to the home team or a symbol to rally the troops might have actually been a reference to Vermeil's penchant for crying.

I'm just trying to figure out why I never noticed it.

For cryin' out loud, am I that aloof?

Everyone I have talked to asks me if I have seen the Kansas City Chiefs new head coach break down and cry yet. Amazing, I always thought Vermeil's legacy would have been that point-a-minute offense he assembled in St. Louis or possibly for coining the term 'coaching burnout.'

But no, he's a crier, I am told.

Tracing his coaching career -- from junior college in Napa, Calif., to UCLA to the National Football League -- is not difficult. In Hansel-and-Gretel-like fashion, all you need to do is follow the trail of tears.

Not that there's anything wrong with crying.

Unlike the National Pastime, where Tom Hanks was quick to inform us that there is no crying allowed, most men have no problem shedding a tear or two. Perhaps football players are more secure in their manhood -- dare I say, more in tune with their feminine side? -- than baseball players.

Perhaps.

Vermeil is hardly the first. Keep in mind that I covered the Chiefs in the early 1990s when they were coached by Marty Schottenheimer, who, I always thought, turned crying into an art form.

When Joe Montana retired, Marty cried. When Marcus Allen retired, the sportswriters had a pool where we guessed in 10-second increments when Marty would break down. For the record, he lasted all of a minute and 45 seconds, which is about 50 seconds longer than I figured him for.

Interlude: Marty's tears at Allen's retirement announcement were overshadowed by Allen's tears. Marcus cried uncontrollably as he talked about leaving the game.

Of course, it lost some of its impact when we heard he was taking a network job at CBS for millions. Watching Marcus each Sunday is painful. His reports have been known to make even the most ardent football fans cry.

But Marty Schottenheimer is the guy whose tears always seemed so genuine. Anytime anyone ever mentions the Cleveland Browns' second of two devastating AFC Championship Game losses to Denver Broncos in the late 1980s, Marty gets weepy, not because of a lost opportunity, but because Earnest Byner, author of "The Fumble," has had live with his mistake. Good people shouldn't be meant to carry around such burdens, but he does, much like a huge boulder.

It's his legacy. And that saddens Schottenheimer. You hear Byner and you think fumble. Forget the incredible 1,000-yard seasons. Just like Bill Buckner, whose brilliant baseball career will be remembered for his miscue.

Amazingly, I never put Vermeil in the same class of crier.

Yes, Vermeil shed a few tears after Lawrence Phillips, the kid who's done more to ruin Tom Osborne's reputation than anyone, blew his second chance and the Rams were forced to cut him in 1998.

I watched that story unfold from the outside and, clearly, Vermeil looked like the classic example of the duped coach. He used the No. 6 pick in the draft to select Phillips, who was arguably the best running back in the country.

He then watched as the kid screwed up countless times. In the end, his tears looked like those of a foolish man, a man who had come back to football and wasn't ready to handle the new-age athlete.

I was wrong.

Having gotten to know Vermeil in recent months, I honestly believe that he hurt for Phillips, a player with a wealth of talent, but didn't have the self-control to curb his off-field behavior.

Vermeil gave him every chance, but when Phillips' off-field problems began to tear away at the very fabric of the team, he had no choice but to let him go.

Like the father who tells his child before a spanking that it is going to hurt him a lot more than it will hurt his young one, you get the feeling Vermeil felt that way before cutting loose Phillips.

It truly hurt him to have to sacrifice one man for the sake of the team, but he knew it was necessary to keep the team together. As important as resurrecting Phillips' career was to Vermeil, doing so at the expense of the team could not happen.

In that case, his tears were real. They were tears of a man who believed that he had somehow failed in making Lawrence Phillips a better person. Many have failed in the same quest, but only Vermeil took the time to mourn the defeat.

Two years ago, the Rams had seemingly assembled a pretty formidable offensive group.

They had Isaac Bruce at one receiver and had used one of the early picks in the draft to select Torry Holt. Then they had traded two mid-round draft picks to Indianapolis for running back Marshall Faulk.

Tying it all together was the first free-agent acquisition made that summer: Quarterback Trent Green (pictured, left).

The Rams cruised through the first three exhibition games by lighting up the scoreboard. Everything seemed to click -- Green especially. He had misfired on all of three passes in three games and the Rams were looking every bit as explosive as advertised.

Then, just before halftime of the last preseason game, San Diego's Rodney Harrison came on a blindside blitz and hit Green low. His left knee folded like a backyard chair and he lay on the ground writhing in pain as the TWA Dome went silent.

In the blink of an eye, his season was finished.

Vermeil cried that night, too -- not because the Rams were going into the new season with a supermarket stock boy suddenly thrust into the starting quarterback role. Heck, those aren't reasons for tears. Injuries are a part of football. Vermeil knows that. As it turned out, the grocery stock boy would turn out to be the greatest story in NFL history -- but that's a different story.

No, Vermeil's tears came from his sorrow for Green, who had worked so hard to finally have an offense to call his own. His tears were hot, painful tears of anguish and sadness that a decent young man who had overcome so much to make it in the NFL again had been denied his chance.

OK, upon further review, I guess Dick Vermeil is a crier.

He probably cried when Joe Pisarcik fumbled and Herman Edwards picked up the loose ball in the final minutes of the 1978 season to score the touchdown that would forever be known as "The Miracle of the Meadowlands."

He no doubt cried when the Edwards, the man credited with making the play that sparked the Philadelphia Eagles to Super Bowl XV against the Oakland Raiders, was named the head coach of the New York Jets earlier this year.

He certainly cried when Carl Peterson, his longtime friend and colleague, showed up at the doorsteps of his suburban Philadelphia farm and begged him out of retirement to resurrect a Chiefs team badly in need of some passion.

I'd bet the mortgage that he cried tears of happiness when the deal to bring Green to Kansas City on draft day was finally completed. Loyalty is everything to Vermeil, who surrounds himself with people he trusts -- Green and the newly acquired Joe Germaine are perfect examples of this.

Methinks he even cried a few tears last week when he walked inside the TWA Dome for the first time since the NFC Championship game two years ago.

That he was forced out of his coaching job by an offensive coordinator with an over-inflated sense of self worth, that ownership opted to force him out of his job so that it wouldn't lose the offensive coordinator, was a sad way to go out in St. Louis.

Amazingly, despite the betrayal, which came just days after the greatest win in St. Louis' storied football history, Vermeil never cried tears of shame.

Perhaps that's what makes Vermeil's tears tolerable: Never are they out of ego or self-pity. This is a man who wears his emotions on his sleeve.

Yes, he cries. It's what makes Dick Vermeil the man he is. It makes him a leader. It makes people want to follow him.

Want more Sangimino? Check out his archive of recent columns.

Pat Sangimino is a veteran sports reporter and currently is a senior news editor at TheKansasCityChannel.com. Feel free to send him an e-mail with your thoughts on his weekly topics.

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