Quote of the Day (Robert Frost, on a ‘Winter Evening Walk’)

“I had for my winter evening walk—
No one at all with whom to talk,
But I had the cottages in a row
Up to their shining eyes in snow.” —American poet Robert Frost (1874-1963), “Good Hours,” in North of Boston (1915)
 
After a couple of inches of snow on Tuesday—and more expected closer to the weekend—my area of the Northeast may see more of the kind of scenes Frost had in mind over a century ago.
 
The only problem: The temperatures (and that pesky wind chill factor!) will be so low that many won’t want to be out, lest they experience frostbite.

Quote of the Day (Walter Kirn, on ‘The Great Irony of Multitasking’)

“This is the great irony of multitasking—that its overall goal, getting more done in less time, turns out to be chimerical. In reality, multitasking slows our thinking. It forces us to chop competing tasks into pieces, set them in different piles, then hunt for the pile we're interested in, pick up its pieces, review the rules for putting the pieces back together, and then attempt to do so, often quite awkwardly. (Fact, and one more reason the bubble will pop: A brain attempting to perform two tasks simultaneously will, because of all the back-and-forth stress, exhibit a substantial lag in information processing.)”— American novelist, literary critic, and essayist Walter Kirn, “The Autumn of the Multitaskers,” The Atlantic, November 2007

The phrase “multitasking” wasn’t around when poor Rosalind Russell filmed her scene as a woebegone telephone operator in the accompanying photo from Auntie Mame in 1958. (The term wouldn’t be coined until 1965, in an IBM paper describing the capabilities of the IBM System/360.)

But, with the rise of the PC and the cellphone, the phenomenon has spread far and wide, as office workers have attempted to keep up with the productivity promised by information processing. (Don’t imagine that the practice is absent from the C-suite: I have even heard of one exec who checked out sports scores on his iPhone during a board of directors meeting!)

Walter Kirn diagnosed the problems with all of this accurately in his Atlantic article 16 years ago, and the passage of time has only confirmed what he thought. Ryan Fuller, Nina Shikaloff, Renee Cullinan, and Shani Harmon warned in The Harvard Business Review back in 2018, “If You Multitask During Meetings, Your Team Will, Too,” going on to explain why they were concerned:

“While multitasking can, at times, be an efficient way to work, most of us have had the experience of sitting next to the person busy clattering on their keyboard during a meeting. It’s distracting. And, ultimately, multitasking is task switching. When we shoot off a quick email during a meeting, we miss that part of the conversation. We – and others – may not even notice, but it means we have gaps in our understanding of what took place. That can lead to different interpretations of a decision, missed opportunities to provide critical guidance, or inconsistent follow through on action agreements. Beyond that, multitasking can signal to others that we don’t value their time or their contributions. When you and your entire team engages in this behavior, little good can come from it.”

Sadly, it may already be too late: The rise of Zoom calls in the pandemic has only encouraged the practice. The consequences of all this, in terms of inattention and stress, remain to be tallied. 

Quote of the Day (Martin Luther King Jr., on Courage in the Face of Disaster)

“God, remove all bitterness from my heart and give me the strength and courage to face any disaster that comes my way.” —American civil-rights activist and Nobel Peace Prize laureate Martin Luther King Jr. (1929-1968), Thou, Dear God: Prayers That Open Hearts and Spirits, edited by Lewis V. Baldwin (2012)

Spiritual Quote of the Day (Dag Hammarskjold, on Forgiveness and Sacrifice)

“Forgiveness breaks the chain of causality because he who forgives you—out of love—takes upon himself the consequences of what you have done. Forgiveness, therefore, always entails a sacrifice.” — U.N. Secretary-General Dag Hammarskjold (1905-1961), diary entry for Apr. 17, 1960, in Markings, translated by Leif Sjoeberg and W.H. Auden (1965) 

This Day in Football History (Dolphins Vanquish Vikings in Super Bowl VIII)

Jan. 13, 1974—Taking its cue from fullback Larry Csonka (pictured), the Miami Dolphins ran roughshod over the Minnesota Vikings in Super Bowl VIII.

The 24-7 final score was not remotely indicative of just how thoroughly Miami dominated Minnesota, which had gone 12-2 in the regular season (and had given the Dolphins one of their most hotly contested victories early in 1972, in a bruising 16-14 come-from-behind win).

Vikings head coach Bud Grant had made front-page news in the run-up to the game with his complaint about sparrows in the locker-room shower at Houston’s Rice Stadium.

When it was all over, he had two more persistent headaches: how the Dolphins’ offense had pushed around his legendary “Purple People Eaters” defense, and how Miami’s “No Name Defense” had, in the words of Miami Herald sports columnist Edwin Pope, “pounded Minnesota's runners into such terror that the Vikings did not get a first down rushing for an astounding 44 minutes and 17 seconds.”

Among head coach Don Shula’s 347 career triumphs, few could have been sweeter than his Super Bowl victory at Rice Stadium.

His Super Bowl win the year before may have capped an undefeated season and at least temporarily quieted complaints that the veteran coach couldn’t win The Big One.

But this one proved that the earlier success was no fluke. It also put Shula among the elite circle of coaches who have won two consecutive Super Bowls, along with Vince Lombardi, Chuck Noll, Jimmy Johnson, Mike Shanahan, and Bill Belichick—giving the Dolphin coach a fair claim to have forged the closest thing that the National Football League has to a dynasty.

Dolphins dominate

Over the years, the surviving members of Dolphins have been justly proud of their undefeated 1972 season, particularly when the New England Patriots achieved a perfect 17-0 season in 2007 before falling to the New York Giants in Super Bowl LXII.

But, even though the Dolphins’ 12-2 record-season record in 1973 might suggest a slight falloff from their prior magical year, some observers believed that the team was stronger than the undefeated squad.

Unlike the year before, with the Dolphins’ 14-7 win over the Washington Redskins (an outcome suddenly threatened a few minutes before the end when placekicker Garo Yepremian’s inept pass on a broken play led to a Redskin touchdown), the Dolphins never loosened their choke hold over their opponents. Their advantage in time of possession (33:45 versus 26:15) tells only part of the tale.

On both sides of the ball, the Dolphins set the pace early, capitalizing on the Vikings’ inability to get momentum. Miami scored twice in the first quarter on touchdowns by Larry Csonka and Jim Kiick, a rushing pair that, like the Green Bay Packers’ Jim Taylor and Paul Hornung (“Thunder and Lightning”), had earned their own nicknames—in this case, the more colorful (and given their close friendship, more appropriate) catchphrase, “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.”

A Yepremian field goal in the second quarter put Shula’s squad up 17-0 by halftime.

On the other side of the ball, the “No Name Defense” was throttling the Vikings. The major hope that Minnesota had to get within striking distance was crushed when, with fourth and one with a minute left in the half, Miami middle linebacker Nick Buoniconti knocked the ball loose from Viking running back Oscar Reed and the Dolphins’ Jake Scott recovered (one of two fumble recoveries that the free safety had that day).

Another, two-yard touchdown run by Csonka in the third quarter only added to the Vikings’ woes.

Head On, the title of Csonka’s 2020 memoir, tells you most but not all of what you need to know about the running back’s take-no-prisoners rushing style.

First, his initial pattern of running was even more physically confrontational—with more potential for long-term physical injury—before Shula taught him how to lead with his forearm rather than his head.

Second, “head on” doesn’t convey the sheer futility of trying to tackle Csonka. You’d have a better chance of bringing down a Sherman tank.

The Vikings’ plight in Houston, as he rumbled on 33 carries for 145 yards for a Super Bowl MVP designation, was best expressed by linebacker Jeff Siemon:

“It's not the collision that gets you. It's what happens after you tackle him. His legs are just so strong he keeps moving. He carries you. He's an immovable weight.”

The Vikings’ Fran Tarkenton could take only meager satisfaction in becoming the first quarterback to score a touchdown in the Super Bowl. The score came in the fourth quarter with his team down 24-0. With the running game going nowhere, he was under continual pressure all day, dumping off short passes to tight ends and running backs who were immediately surrounded and stopped by a sea of green uniforms.

My rooting interest in the Dolphins

You might wonder how I became interested in this game and this team.

Well, in the early 1970s, when I started watching pro football on a regular basis, the Green Bay Packers had fallen off the high standard set under Vince Lombardi. My area’s New York Giants were even worse, still less than halfway through a 17-year absence from the playoffs. I abominated their divisional rivals, the Dallas Cowboys.

I ended up gravitating to the up-and-coming Dolphins. Their thrilling double-overtime victory over the Kansas City Chiefs in the 1971 Championship game sealed the deal for me.  Their loss to the Dallas Cowboys in Super Bowl VI only made me pull all the harder for them to surmount their last hurdle to glory.

I was glad beyond measure when the Dolphins break through against the Redskins, then again against the Vikings. Great times seemed to stretch far into the future.

The Dolphins didn’t have long to enjoy their victory. Less than a month later, Csonka, Kiick, and receiver Paul Warfield announced that they would be jumping to the upstart World Football League for the 1975 season.

That left only one more season when quarterback Bob Griese could count on his chief rushing and receiving threats. The Dolphins’ loss in the divisional playoffs to the Oakland Raiders, on Dec. 31, 1974—the famous “Sea of Hands” game in which Clarence Davis snared a Ken Stabler TD pass in the final seconds—was dismaying and, in terms of their period of dominance, final.

Changes since Super Bowl VIII

Younger readers who come across this post may have no idea what pro football was like a half century ago, while older ones might have forgotten some details. I can tell you that the Super Bowl was far different then from now, both in how it was played and how it was viewed by a mass audience.

Even by 2004, the ambiance of the “ultimate game” as we know it now was set. So here are the major contrasts between Super Bowl VIII and Super Bowl XXXVIII. (God, save me from this plague of Roman numerals!):

*Passing is a more central part of the game. Testifying to the respect in which he was held across the league, Griese was elected to the Pro Football Hall of Fame, but in Super Bowl VIII he attempted only seven passes, completing all but one. Bill Walsh’s implementation of the “West Coast offense” with the San Francisco 49ers and NFL rules protecting quarters gave passers more room to operate—and, in parallel fashion, decreased the importance of running backs. The last back to be named Super Bowl MVP was the Denver Broncos’ Terrell Davis, back in January 1998.

*Players grew in size. The biggest man on the Dolphins’ offensive line, Hall of Famer Larry Little, weighed 265 pounds. Thirty years later, the heaviest offensive lineman for the Patriots, Wilbert Brown, tipped the scales at 320 pounds.

*The game occurs later in the year. With 17 regular-season games starting in 2003 versus 14 in 1973, along with an additional round in the playoffs, the season is longer. The 2004 Super Bowl, featuring the New England Patriots and the Carolina Panthers, was the first to take place in February. The additional games increase the possibility of injuries that can affect the outcome.

*The game occurs later in the day. Kickoff time for Super Bowl VIII was 3:30 pm ET; 30 years later, it was 6:25.

*The game has become a de facto secular national holiday. Over time, the NFL has realized that, to increase viewership, the inherent drama of the game would not be enough, so it added entertainment elements. The halftime entertainment at Super Bowl VIII, "A Musical America," featured the University of Texas band, along with Miss Texas Judy Mallett. In contrast, the entertainers at Super Bowl XXXVIII were P. Diddy, Nelly, Kid Rock, and the controversial pair that ended up giving rise to the phrase “wardrobe malfunction,” Justin Timberlake and Janet Jackson. Even ads from America’s biggest companies made the game “must-see TV” for more casual football fans, and the average cost of these 30-second commercials skyrocketed, from $103,500 in 1974 to $2.3 million in 2004.

There is one other major difference in football—certainly not apparent in 1973, and only starting to surface in 2003: the danger that players faced with concussions. The NFL first released the results of a five-year study on mild traumatic brain injuries in October 2003.

It was already too late for several members of the 1974 Super Bowl champions. Kiick, Scott, Buoniconti, Bob Kuechenberg, Bill Stanfill, and Earl Morrall were identified as having C.T.E. (Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy). 

These cases, as well as so many others from the era when I watched football avidly week to week, have made me reevaluate how I think about the sport and its ultimate game.

In reading Homer’s Odyssey in college, I don’t think that I properly appreciated the traumas experienced by Odysseus and his comrades in arms as they made their way home after the greatest battle of their lives. 

Now, thinking of them in relation to the Dolphins, it all seems far more understandable to me.

After all, who can bear to watch aging warriors as they prove all too mortal far from the site of their greatest victory?

Quote of the Day (Winston Churchill, on ‘The Only Wise and Safe Course’)

“The only wise and safe course is to act from day to day in accordance with what one's own conscience seems to decree." — British Prime Minister and Nobel Literature laureate Sir Winston Churchill (1874-1965), The Gathering Storm (Volume One of “The Second World War”) (1948)

Quote of the Day (George Plimpton on Alex Karras, With the NFL Great Displaying ‘Theatrical Tendencies’)

“When Alex Karras came onto the club, after his own rookie year, during which he barely spoke a word, he became the unofficial hazing master. But he used the dining room less as a hazing ground than as a stage to display his own theatrical tendencies. He banged the water glass for silence so he could deliver his own speeches, skits, or monologues; even a request for chocolate syrup for his ice cream, which could have been fulfilled by raising a finger to a passing waitress, was given a performance. He would rap his water glass loudly and signal out the dining-room matron. ‘Mrs. Page!’ he would shout. ‘Mrs. Page, having consumed a salad, your salad, with a little shrimp in it, is it too much for me to ask, as a red-blooded American, a voter, with a wife back home, a dog lying by the hearth, a parakeet in a wire cage, is it too much for me to ask for a beaker of chocolate syrup to pour on my ice cream? Mrs. Page, give me chocolate syrup or give me death!’" — American “participatory journalist,” literary editor, actor and occasional amateur sportsman George Plimpton (1927-2003), Paper Lion: Confessions of a Last-String Quarterback (1965)

This weekend, the Detroit Lions are in territory sadly unfamiliar to them in recent years: the playoffs, hosting the Los Angeles Rams. The last time they got even to the wild-card round was in January 2017, and their last playoff victory came in January 1992 over the Dallas Cowboys. Their last outright championship was back in 1957.

Or, to put it another way: diehards born in that golden year are now getting ready to retire, if they haven’t already.

Even with a 12-5 record in this past regular season that put them atop the NFC North division, any belief that the team will go much further after this point represents, for pessimists eyeing their prior playoff history, what Oscar Wilde defined as a second marriage: “the triumph of hope over experience.”

Yet that same dismal history makes them a sentimental favorite to go to the Super Bowl, and some even glimpse potential for such a run.

For instance, this post from SportsGrid, a sports betting site for news, analysis, and advice, even has labeled the team “the potential surprise package of the season…. a testament to the unpredictability and thrill of the NFL, where any team can defy the odds and emerge victorious.”

Somewhere in the afterlife, George Plimpton is smiling. In an October 2022 post, I blogged about his penchant for writing about unusual stunts. Perhaps the most famous of these was participating, as a lanky 36-year-old, in preseason training back in 1963 for the Lions, then calling plays in an intra-team scrimmage.

It went about as well as can be expected: disastrously. But at least he came out with a bestseller that got turned into a 1968 movie, starring Alan Alda as the writer.

One of the great characters among the Lion players was Alex Karras, the near-sighted but terrifying defensive lineman, suspended in the 1963 season for betting on NFL games. Accordingly, Karras’ appearances in the book are brief but memorable.

God knows, with what Plimpton called the player’s “untrammeled brain,” I still had material: his offhand remark to the author that “there’s only one man I never really liked at all: Will Rogers,” or his hilarious speculative monologues to teammates about his past fictional lives as aides-de-camp to George Washington and Adolf Hitler.

But the one I selected, I think, provides evidence, early in Plimpton’s account, of this gridiron great’s post-football future before the cameras. Karras was clearly miserable that his suspension kept him away from the game he loved so much, and his off-field activities during that season (wrestling and owning a bar) did little to salve his feelings.

But here, among his teammates in the team dining room, he was demonstrating the ease with performing that would lead him, after he hung up his helmet, into sportscasting and acting. 

As an actor, Karras started by playing himself (based on his monologues, he could have done it better?) in the movie Paper Lion, and later, more conspicuously, on the long-running sitcom Webster and, most memorably, in the film comedies Victor Victoria and Blazing Saddles. (In the latter, who could have been more credible as Mongo punching a horse?)