JOHN MADDEN HAS PASSED, BUT HIS LEGEND AND VOICE MIGHT LIVE FOREVER
Of all the titans associated with football, Madden was most responsible for the NFL's big-boom growth in America, with all-ages influence that will stretch deep into the 21st century
Why would we ever understate a tribute to John Madden? After all, between in-your-face exclamations such as "Boom!'' and "Whap!'' and "Doink!'' and "Bang!'' and whatever else sprang from his mouth, the man never was anything but full of life, exuberance and fun. So when Roger Goodell thought he was reaching way down in the homage bag and said, "John Madden is to the NFL what Elvis Presley is to rock-and-roll. He's the king … '' — well, the commissioner fell short.
Cringeworthingly so.
The difference? Elvis' musical heyday spanned one generation until his clothes didn't fit and his songs and gyrations were lost on a road to Woodstock. Madden's oversized influence on sports, broadcasting and popular culture began in the early 1970s and spilled into the early 2020s, until the winter's day he died, at 85. He is not simply the king of football. He IS football, the biggest reason it became the predominant game in a country that regarded baseball as the national pastime until realizing a character could be the sugar-rush soundtrack of a more exciting sport.
And he'll continue to be, as long as technology produces devices that allow young people to play annually updated versions of his eponymous video game, which also enables new generations of prospects to dream about gracing the cover. This past summer, "Madden NFL 22'' featured a 44-year-old Tom Brady and a 25-year-old Patrick Mahomes on the fabled box. Somewhere, a 7-year-old is playing ''Madden'' right now, inspired enough to launch his own path to the NFL.
"My dad used to beat me with Randy Moss and Daunte Culpepper and the Vikings," Mahomes said in an ESPN profile. "He would just throw like, just, bombs for touchdowns, and I would be crying in the game room. It was a lot of fun, and I always used to try to get better when I played it, and I still play to this day. It’s something that you look up to as a kid. You want to be on the cover.''
Of course, Brady also plays ''Madden'' with his kids. He used to beat them. "Now I have zero chance," he said. "I mean, it's not even close. Unfortunately, they don't even want to play with me much anymore. You know, they'd rather just play with their friends, but yeah, they are definitely into it and I still have fun playing it."
When the league announced Madden's passing, just three days after Fox aired an emotional documentary about his life, Goodell finally nailed the eulogy. "Nobody loved football more than Coach. He WAS football,'' he said. "He was an incredible sounding board to me and so many. There will never be another John Madden, and we will forever be indebted to him for all he did to make football and the NFL what it is today."
Also getting it right was Las Vegas Raiders owner Mark Davis, whose flamboyant father, Al, saw the passion in a young Madden and launched his career as a coach in Oakland. "Few individuals meant as much to the growth and popularity of professional football as Coach Madden, whose impact on the game both on and off the field was immeasurable," the Raiders said in a statement. Hours later, in a mostly empty Allegiant Stadium, Davis lit the Al Davis Torch in Madden's honor at 6 p.m. — the original starting time for "Monday Night Football,'' among Madden's many TV exposures that endeared him to millions.
I am old enough to span the entirety of Madden as an icon. He was on the opposing sideline in Pittsburgh's Three Rivers Stadium on Dec. 23, 1972 — and I was a kid, sitting with my father in the upper deck. In the final seconds, we figured the Steelers had no chance and made our way down the stairs, where we watched the most famous play in NFL history unfold before our eyes — the Immaculate Reception. It was one of his eight playoff appearances in 10 seasons as a head coach, and, to this day, Madden's .739 winning percentage remains the second-highest of any coach — behind only Vince Lombardi — in league history. He finally won a Super Bowl in 1977, but the losses ripped him apart to the point he retired prematurely, at 42. Little did anyone know, including Madden himself, that he'd go on to revolutionize the way we watched sports while igniting our passion for football.
"You traveled around but you never saw anything,” Madden said of his coaching life in a Washington Post story. “Everything was an airplane, a hotel, a stadium, a bus, an airplane and back home. One day I said, 'There has to be more to life than this.' ''
I've been in the sports media business long enough to remember Madden's original impact as the gesturing, say-anything, rumple-shirted antithesis of hairsprayed prima-donna booth types. As a Detroit News staffer just out of college, I was the newspaper's sports media critic — the bowling writer didn't want the gig, I suppose. Soon enough, such columns became staples of sports sections thanks to entertainers and teachers such as Madden. The Super Bowl came to town, at the Pontiac Silverdome, and that is when Madden pioneered the Telestrator screen to scribble his lines and circles. I wrote about the CBS production of a game that propelled the Super Bowl as a global ratings monster — and Madden as a phenomenon. Before you knew it, he was an American ambassador, seeing the country in his tricked-out Madden Cruiser bus to combat his claustrophobia on airplanes, stopping along the way to chat with locals in small towns.
He may have resembled Fred Flintstone with a microphone. He may have said things that made you wince, such as "Some yards is better than none yards'' … "There's a lot of letters in LaDainian Tomlinson'' … "Usually the team that scores the most points wins the game'' … and "Mark Brunell usually likes to soak his balls before a rainy game.'' But he was perceptive, curious and brilliant about life, having studied pre-law in college before a knee injury ended his playing career. "He was so much more than just football — a keen observer of everything around him and a man who could carry on a smart conversation about hundreds and hundreds of topics," said Al Michaels, who worked with Madden for seven years in the 2000s. "The term 'Renaissance man' is tossed around a little too loosely these days, but John was as close as you can come."
He wasn't fond of the slick football analysts. So he vowed to simplify the game for fans at home, a gusto accompanied by more commercials as a pitchman than anyone at the time but Michael Jordan. "For me, TV is really an extension of coaching,'' Madden wrote in "Hey, Wait a Minute! (I Wrote a Book!),'' one of his three New York Times best-sellers. "My knowledge of football has come from coaching. And on TV, all I'm trying to do is pass on some of that knowledge to viewers.''
The Everyman persona was anti-shtick. He actually seemed to think that "Tough Actin' Tinactin'' cured athlete's foot and that Miller Lite was worthy of breaking through a brick wall. He was believable and likable and genuine. A nation grew to adore him as a member of the family. EA Sports, recognizing that he related to all demographics, made him the face and voice of its football video brand. Though Madden always saw himself as a coach first, kids in the 21st century have no idea he paced on sidelines and worked in booths. The apocalypse could be upon us, yet "Madden (fill in the number)'' could live on until the world ends. "Today, we lost a hero. John Madden was synonymous with the sport of football for more than 50 years,'' EA Sports said in a statement. "His knowledge of the game was second only to his love for it, and his appreciation for everyone that stepped on the gridiron. A humble champion, a willing teacher, and forever a coach. He will be greatly missed, always remembered, and never forgotten."
Said Pro Football Hall of Fame president Jim Porter: "Few, if any, have had as great an impact on the sport of pro football on so many different levels as Coach Madden. He was first and foremost a coach. He was a coach on the field, a coach in the broadcast booth and a coach in life. He was dearly loved by millions of football fans worldwide. While it's a very sad day, it's also a day we should celebrate the life of a man who brought joy through the game of football to millions.''
The league's biggest power-broker, Jerry Jones, also shrinks in Madden's shadow. "This is a loss that is as big as the legacy that John Madden created. A legacy of love. Love for family, for football and for life,'' the Dallas Cowboys owner said. "I am not aware of anyone who has made a more meaningful impact on the National Football League than John Madden, and I know of no one who loved the game more. When I think of a person of sports who is worthy of the term, 'larger than life,' I have always thought of John. And I always will.''
I remain fascinated enough, by the man and the legend, to have set aside 90 minutes of my Christmas Day to watch the Fox special. At the end, he was sitting in a plush leather chair, having absorbed dozens of testimonials on the big screen in front of him. He paused.
For the first time, Madden was close to speechless. Across the land that he transformed into his domain, kids were unwrapping the present they had requested for Christmas: "Madden 22.'' The release date for "Madden 23,'' by the way, is next Aug. 19.
Who will be on the cover?
John Madden, one would think.
Boom!
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Jay Mariotti, called “the most impacting Chicago sportswriter of the past quarter-century,’’ writes general sports columns for Substack while appearing on some of the 1,678,498 podcasts and shows in production today. He is an accomplished columnist, TV panelist and talk/podcast host. Living in Los Angeles, he gravitated by osmosis to film projects.