Bednarick & McDonald the Highest Flying Eagles

The Philadephia Eagles Chuck Bednarick is probably the best football player alive. I know because I played against him many times. The only player I hated as much as I hated Chuck was his teammate flanker Tommy McDonald who I had to cover one on one countless times. Hate in these two cases means ultimate respect for their great courage and competitive spirit, their guts. It was the greatest challenge to measure myself against these two tough, talented, courageous men. Chuck (and Tommy) won the last World Championship a Philadelphia team has won. That was in 1960, 45 years ago. World Championships are rare ask Cleveland. Chuck wants the Eagles to lose the Super Bowl. I can understand that. I played a key role in winning the last World Championship that the Cleveland Browns or any Cleveland team has won in the last 40 years. Entering into Chuck's thoughts is the fact that Eagles owner Luria insulted Chuck by refusing to buy 100 copies of Chuck's book to give to his players. The amount $1500 is tip change for Luria; yes, it I agree it was an insult to the greatest Eagle who ever played the game. If Luria's current players could absorb any infintesimal amount of Chuck's competitive spirit they would be a significantly better football team. They should get some one to read it to Terrell Ownes and Freddie Mitchell before the game today.

Terrell Owens says God has miraculously healed him to play in the Super Bowl today. I know something about those thoughts. I played QB in high school and I led my team on a 16 straight undefeated run. In Ft Pierce, Florida in our next to last game before our Super Bowl against cross town rival Gainesville High School (which produced Clinton Portus) I received separated shoulder returning a punt. The doctor at our Hospital told my mother and I that "Son you are going to have to forget about sports you are going to have to have that shoulder operated on and wired up right away. You should plan on concentrating on school, you are a good student..." I woke up on a gurney in the hall way after passing out. My mother was bending over me with a group of nurses. I climbed off the gurney and told my mother lets get out of here. I'm not getting operated on and I'm going to play against GHS.

I did play against GHS two weeks later. Although I could barely lift my throwing arm before the game, the Univ. of Florida trainer Doc Lankford taped up my shoulder pulling it up back into place and I played. I threw the ball normally. I overthrew one deep pattern just short of 60 yards downfield. Was that miraculous? GHS was our hated rival. I wanted to play more than anything. I don't recall praying for a miracle. And we lost 13-12 on a bad call by the referee when got the ball punched out of my arm carrying it with my hurt shoulder 1 1/2 yards into the GHS endzone on the last play of the game. Miracle? Maybe?

Here is a quote from my book, an autobiography "They Call It A Game" page 32 "I had my own feelings about praying before the game. If God would just stay out of it. I would win by myself. As Phil Harris used to sing in the 30's and 40's, "Lord don't help me, but please don't help that bear," or something like that."

A miracle is Chuck Bednarick surviving 30 missions over Germany as a 17 year old gunner on a B-25. Thanks Chuck, thanks again.