Sam Baugh was Tom Brady with pizzazz

The world is quite a bit duller today.

And a lot sadder.

That’s certainly the case in West Texas and in Fort Worth with the death of one of their favorite sons: Slingin’ Sammy Baugh.

Baugh, 94, succumbed to multiple complications at a hospital in his beloved Rotan, just outside Sweetwater, where he attended high school more than 75 years ago, where he borrowed money from a private lender to buy a sprawling ranch more than 65 years ago.

If you’re paying attention, that’s a whole of history suddenly gone.

If you know football, no matter your age, you must have heard of Baugh, who was to the passing game what Einstein was to the theory of relativity.

Baugh molded it, advanced it, breathed life into it.

He became the very definition of a football player in the ’30s, ’40s and into the ’50s. He still holds the NFL record for punting average (51.4 yards) in a single season. That mark is 68 years old.

But even his losses are the stuff of legends. Baugh played on the 1940 Washington Redskins team that lost the NFL championship game to the Chicago Bears 73-0.

He became a symbol of Cowtown — starring on TCU’s 1935 national championship team — before he became a Sunday afternoon idol to the politicians in Washington.

His contributions to college football are unending. His contributions to pro football were validated with his induction into the Pro Football Hall of Fame’s charter class of 1963.

Baugh, whose angular body and craggy face had the state of Texas written all over it, wore cowboy hats and cowboy boots even when he went off to play in D.C. He was the sixth overall pick in the 1937 NFL Draft.

Today’s game would’ve been much too sterile for a guy who drew up plays in the dirt with a stick, even at the pro level, or at least that’s the way he always made it seem.

Think Tom Brady with pizzazz. That was Sammy Baugh.

Of course, Baugh played at a much simpler time in the NFL. And one with fewer on-field restrictions and far better monikers.

Baugh played against or alongside guys nicknamed "Bones," "Chubby," "Tex" and "Blood."

But there was only one Slingin’ Sammy, and the name fit him to a T.

While most NFL offenses moved downfield, station-to-station, featuring ground attacks, Baugh was dropping back and letting ’er fly.

He threw for nearly 3,000 yards (and 25 TD passes) in 1947 alone. For his career, he threw for 21,886 yards and 187 touchdowns.

The NFL was founded on star power. Lombardi, Brown, Unitas and Butkus. Before that, Halas, Grange, Graham and Baugh.

These are the pillars upon which the NFL has constructed its multi-billion dollar business.

And don’t think it was any easier back in Baugh’s day to make a splash. Media was smaller. TV was non-existent. The sports icons of the day were names like DiMaggio, Williams, Louis, Hogan, Jones and War Admiral.

Baugh stood out with his brash nature and his unorthodox style.

At 6-foot-2, he was a giant of a quarterback. And as a gunslinger, he stood out from all the rest.

At TCU, he threw for over 3,300 yards and 40 touchdowns. He led the Horned Frogs to a 29-7-2 record. The ’35 team knocked off LSU in the Sugar Bowl and finished 12-1.

Baugh’s high school sweetheart and wife of 52 years, Edmonia, died in 1990. He spent his later years chugging Dr Pepper and driving into town in a floater of a car.

When his health began to fail — with increasing signs of Alzheimer’s and dementia — Baugh was robbed of his faculties. And his wonderful flamboyance.

But if you ever think you’ve seen the quintessential pass-happy quarterback, you might have overlooked Slingin’ Sammy Baugh.

It’s been a long time since he set the NFL on its ear. But don’t ever forget that he did it.

And now he’s gone ...

Thank God for memories.
Ray Buck, 817-390-7760


Source: star-telegram.com