Rodgers, Gray, and Why I Don't Get Autographs

The following is an unpublished article originally written on November 4, 2006. Given that this is to be Aaron Rodgers' long-awaited debut year, I thought I would finally get it in print.

******

I received a call on my phone today. It was my daughter, who was at Austin Straubel airport in Green Bay, waiting with her grandmother to pick up her arriving grandfather.

Why did she call me? Because she happened to be at the airport at the same time the Green Bay Packers were loading the airplane to fly out to Buffalo. With a giddiness I could hear in her voice, she told me how she saw Brett Favre and A.J. Hawk up close. She even said, “Good luck!” to the coach, though she didn’t exactly know what his name was. She seemed almost as excited to be sharing this information with the biggest Packer fan in her life as she was to have seen the Packers herself.

I then asked the question, “Did you get any autographs?”

While she responded no, she didn’t, my own question sent me on a journey in the Wayback Machine, remembering when I was around that age, when the idea of seeing a player inspired awe. It also taught me a lesson I’ve followed to this day.

*

As a 12 year old, I had recently moved from the Wisconsin Northwoods to the middle of Green Bay, and fully immersed myself in becoming a fervent Packer fan. Yes, I was that kid who had the entire roster memorized, read the Yearbook front to back, and would even sit back with the Press Guide for fun. My classmates and I spent our outdoor time at St. James Park, each pretending to be a different NFL player as we played pitch-and-catch.

I also was starting for my school’s 7th grade basketball team. My father, probably greatly relieved that I was finally showing interest in sports, took the “for sale” sign off of my jacket and decided to take me to a UW-Green Bay men’s basketball game. It was pretty cool, my first time in the Brown County Arena (soon to be followed by my first Quiet Riot concert). I settled back in my seat and watched the Phoenix tee it up in the ol’ barn.

It wasn’t too long before I noticed a murmuring going through the crowd around us. People were looking around and pointing behind me. I looked behind me and saw an African-American man sitting up about seven rows, across the aisle. The name “Johnnie Gray” kept floating in and out of my ears.

Needless to say, the game we had paid money to watch was no longer of much interest to me. This was Green Bay, a football town, and I wasn’t the only one. I started pestering my father about whether or not I should ask for an autograph. He discouraged me, and since he seemed to be sitting unbothered, I returned my eyes to the game.

It wasn’t long before someone broke the ice, and asked him for an autograph. Like a hawk, I noticed this, and procured my own pen and UWGB program. I was the sixth person in line, and, like my daughter, was just in awe of this man who played the game that I watched religiously every Sunday.

I returned to my seat, happy, content. What happened after that, however, burned in my memory for the rest of my life. As I snuck looks back at Johnnie, I saw the line for autographs was now ten people. Then, it was twenty. Then, thirty. The understaffed Arena employees were busy trying to rearrange the line, as it was blocking not only Johnnie’s view, but the view of dozens of other Phoenix fans. However, it did very little, other than to advertise to more people that there was something worth waiting in line for.

As you can guess, Johnnie Gray, who came to the Arena to unwind with a basketball game, got up and left a little before halftime. I’m not sure what disappointed me more: his leaving, or the childish protests of the forty-or-so people in line who did not get an autograph. I felt guilty for being a part of ruining a man’s evening. No, more than that…I felt guilty for being a part of ruining the evening of a man who I idolized. I looked at the signed program in my hand and felt my cheeks flush. I shot angry glares at the people who were laughing around me.

That was the last autograph I’ve ever asked of anyone. If anything, I will ask for a picture, if it is the right setting, but since that day, asking someone to sign a piece of paper seemed like I was crossing a line. The advent of eBay selling autographed memorabilia for hundreds of dollars, seeing athletes charge kids $20 for a signature, and seeing grown men standing in a line with fifteen footballs has done very little to change any opinion I have about autograph-hunting.

I listen to Johnnie Gray weekly on his local radio show, and have been tempted on many occasions to call in and tell him the story, and how that piece of paper he signed affected my values.

In the summer of 2005, I brought my young son to his first training camp. We sat and watched them go through drills, peering through the chain-link fence on bleachers. We took a break, got an ice cream treat, wandered through the Atrium, and then returned to watch the end of practice.

We also went and stood outside the fencing where the players would return to the locker rooms. We watched unknown player after unknown player ride in on their bikes and wave off the mob of autograph hunters who called out their names, begging for a signature. My son and I took a spot away from the mob, as I put together names to go with the numbers we saw.

Finally, a player with number 12 on his jersey walked up, and instead of ignoring the wolves, he slowly walked towards them. He signed a couple, only to be badgered by waving arms holding hats, footballs, notepads, and T-shirts. For each one he signed, it seemed ten new people appeared out of nowhere, all yelling, “Aaron! Over here!” If he moved one direction, a disturbing version of “The Wave” occurred, as people pushed and shoved to get closer, still waving their item in his face.

It seemed eerily familiar, and just as sad, as that day many years ago. Unfortunately, the pretense of a line had been lost, replaced with the jostling of arms and insistent begging.

I pointed the man out and told my son, “See that man? His name is Aaron, and he’s going to be the next quarterback for the Packers. Someday, you’ll see his #12 jersey throwing the ball instead of #4.”

Other rational people in the crowd started telling the player, “Just go, Aaron.” The mob was still growing, and becoming ruder by the second. He stayed out for nearly ten minutes, looking very patient, but also a little overwhelmed. He looked over at the fence where only one man and his son stood, watching patiently and smiling.

Aaron Rodgers, perhaps trying to show the rabble that he would reward people who were polite, walked towards me. We just smiled, and my son waved and said, “Hi, Aaron!” A-Rod looked at us, almost quizzically, and seemed almost ready to say something to us. If he did, I missed it, because the mob had rushed over by my side of the fence and knocked my son down.

Shortly after that, the future quarterback of the Green Bay Packers went inside. I don’t know if that was his first time trying to tackle the mob, or if he was a little more cautious in subsequent trips back to Lambeau Field. The trouble is, I think he was the only one who learned a lesson that day.

*

I certainly have no harsh feelings towards those fans that are fervent in their passion, and I remember that childlike era in my life, when meeting a player in “real-life” was the only true definition we had of “awe”. Certainly, autographs are a great way to prove your fandom, and the fact they sell for a bunch of money doesn’t hurt either.

But today, when I asked my daughter if she got any autographs at Austin Straubel Field, she was probably confused at my reaction when she answered, “No.”

I said, “Good.”

Rush to Retire Brett's #4?

Ryan Wilson, on his AOL Fanhouse blog, cites John Lombardi's question as to why Reggie White had his number retired posthumously, nearly six years after he retired and months after his death. The question asks if there was potentially some sort of conspiracy theory as to why Reggie had to wait, while the Packers appear to be tripping over themselves to honor Favre while he may still be mulling whether he is going actually retire or not.

What could the conspiracies be? Could it be Reggie's persecution for some careless words spoken during a 1998 speech that got him labeled a "racist" and "politically incorrect"? Could it be his stance on homosexuality, which as a Baptist minister, he felt compelled to share with the world? Or, perhaps, even more sinister, could it be that he was black and Favre was white?

All of these ideas are absolutely ridiculous.

Reggie White will go down in history as one of the greatest Packers of all time, enshrined in both the Packer Hall of Fame and in Canton, a wrecking ball on the field and an inspirational leader off the field. But, unlike most of those truly honored by having their number retired by the Packers --Bart Starr, Ray Nitchske, Tony Canadeo, and Don Hutson--Reggie White was not a lifelong Packer.

Furthermore, his most statistically impressive seasons were actually with the Philadelphia Eagles...a team that also elected to retire his number with their team in 2005.

The question isn't whether or not Reggie White compares to Brett Favre, but whether or not Reggie White, bless his soul, deserves to have #92 retired. The idea of being defined as a Packer Forever seems to be a constant with those four, as well as Favre. I remember at one time, there being a public statement that no more numbers would ever be retired for the Green Bay Packers (this was back in the 80's), so I was surprised when a player, great as he was, received the honor when he only played part of his career with the team.

The fact that the Eagles also retired his number is either testament to White's greatness, or a reminder that sometimes retiring numbers is as much a public relations ploy as it is granting an honor.

Brett Favre spent his entire career with the Packers (minus his forgettable rookie season), won a Super Bowl (more than Hutson or Canadeo) and finished statistically on top of nearly every record at his position, as did Don Hutson. Favre's popularity certainly also ranked up there with each of these players, though certainly, the rush of being in five championships has to put Nitschke and Starr on even a higher plane than Favre.

I questioned passing out retired numbers like candy when White's number was retired. Such an honor is limited (you only have so many numbers you can retire). I also questioned Don Majkowski's induction into the Packer Hall of Fame at around the same time, because it seemed to cheapen the honor for others who really deserved it, like Jerry Kramer or Willie Wood, but didn't get a number retired. Majkowski played one good season, and only four seasons in all for the Packers. If you're going to give him a place in the Hall, why not Darrell Thompson? Why not Walter Stanley? Why not Mark Koncar?

Reggie White was a great player. Packer Hall of Fame? Absolutely. Maybe a spot in the Ring of Honor at Lambeau Field. Absolutely. Number retired? Sorry, I don't buy it.

Favre has in his career earned all of those unwritten criteria for having all those things and his number retired. He has the statistics, he has the longevity, he has the popularity, and he has the claim to being a Packer over his entire productive career.

If honoring Reggie White were an equally slam-dunk decision, why did the Eagles wait twelve years after he left the team to retire his number?

The Time Has Come: Al Harris to Safety

As the Packer offseason chugs vaguely again towards the draft, few moves have been made in free agency by General Manager Ted Thompson…to no one’s surprise. This has been his M.O. since he arrived in Green Bay, and his consistent belief in both his ability to find gems in the draft and to develop the talent presently on the roster has garnered him praise, particularly in the wake of a Cinderella season that brought the team to the brink of the Super Bowl.

However, with the unexpected salary cap bonus offered through Brett Favre’s retirement, the pressure will go up a notch for Thompson this year to insure the development of the team without the presence (and salary cap figure) that often served as a lightning rod for Thompson’s fans. With a team seemingly on the brink of greatness, the pressure goes up a bit. Drafting 30^th, Thompson will find less and less options for quality trade-downs, and the fizzle of Justin Harrell and Brandon Jackson last season means that this offseason needs to count.

The timing is important: the team established itself as an unexpected power in the NFC, and needs to keep that momentum going. With the most salary cap flexibility in Thompson’s tenure, it’s time to fill holes and solidify this team to continue to play up to expectations.

So, I offer my free, unsolicited piece of professional advice to Thompson, a guy who has focused on defense since he arrived: finish the defense and get a top flight free safety.

Knowing that Thompson likes to keep out of the high-stakes cesspool that is free agency, this is easier said than done, but the importance should be lost. Thompson has seemingly valued hard-hitting safeties since he’s been here, bringing in Mark Roman, Nick Collins, Marquand Manuel, and Atari Bigby to be the enforcers. Yet, for all of their great hits, they have struggled in coverage and help over the top. Aaron Rouse, a linebacker pretending to play safety, is in the same mold.

Our passing defense has indeed improved from the embarrassment it was in the Manuel years to a middle-of-the-pack squad in 2007. But, despite the accolades that our cornerbacks team of Charles Woodson and Al Harris were among the best in the league, both are over 30 years old and will likely never get any better.

In particular, Al Harris, despite making the Pro Bowl, looked slow and frustrated as Plaxico Burress abused him in the NFL Championship game. At 33 years old, it isn’t unlikely that he is about to follow the same career slide that Antonio Freeman did in the late 2000’s.

Like Freeman, Harris isn’t blessed with blazing speed, but has always compensated with smarts and effort. But every player hits that fateful season when they lose a step, and in Freeman’s case, that step was simply too much for him to make up with effort. Freeman’s career in Green Bay ended with a whimper because he simply couldn’t get from point A to point B fast enough to use his smarts and skills.

Harris has compensated for his lack of speed by excelling at bump coverage, but an athletic receiver like Burress showed us a glimpse of what is possibly the near future, and when a cornerback can’t keep up with a receiver, his career is effectively over.

So, we find ourselves in the market for a cornerback. Since that appears to be on the forefront of our wish lists (and, amazingly, last on the draft lists the past few years), let’s imagine 2008 and how Harris, who is still under contract and would cost $1.2 million to cut, can still fit in: as our new free safety.

This is nothing against Nick Collins, who has struggled to replicate his rookie season success, or Atari Bigby, who generated excitement with his big hits and excellent playoff game against Seattle. But, the point still stands that both players struggle both in coverage and haven’t been able to run the defense like a quarterback.

Like a quarterback, you ask? Perhaps one of the finest strong safeties in recent memory, LeRoy Butler, hit his strongest stretch of his career in the 1996 and 1997 seasons, making All-Pro three years in a row in those seasons and in 1998. While many factors aligned in those seasons for the Green Bay Packers, Butler’s 13.5 sacks in those three seasons marked a tremendous difference from any other season he had, when he only had one season with more than one sack. The difference?

Eugene Robinson. The free agent free safety brought a level of control to the defense that seemingly transformed the entire squad. Not only did it allow the Packer defense to be ranked #1 overall in those two seasons, but allowed LeRoy Butler freedom, to play closer to the line. This was possible because Robinson was able to direct the defense from the backfield, had enough speed and range to help out in coverage, but most of all, was smart.

Oh, and by the way, he was 33 when he played with the Packers in 1996, the same age as Al Harris.

The question is three-fold. First: Would Mike McCarthy be willing to move Harris to safety? Both Collins and Bigby are somewhat established, even though they both tend to play the same kind of position: the hard-hitting run stopper. Harris and Woodson are revered as a tandem of bump and run corners.

Second: Would Harris, a proud cornerback, be able or willing to make a switch to safety? Harris, while never resorting to Mike McKenzie-esque shenanigans, has withheld his offseason services in the past when he wasn’t happy with his contract. Would he see being asked to move to free safety as an insult or a way to extend his career?

Third: Is Ted Thompson, then, going to make the investment for a prime cornerback, which are traditionally more expensive than safeties? DeAngelo Hall just signed a Raider contract that will pay him Favre-esque numbers. Is getting a guy who can play opposite of Woodson without a drop-off from Harris going to be possible? Is such a guy out there an available, and if so, would he fit into Thompson’s philosophy of finances? The draft position makes finding the next DeAngelo Hall difficult, and the best corners are already off the free agent market.

Three hard questions that, in all likelihood, will have Al Harris lining up at cornerback next season. Simply put, I don't see Ted Thompson shelling out for a top-flight cornerback, and I don't know if Harris would accept a change at this point.

But it still stands that this defense has operated for years without the smooth free safety it has needed, a position that relies on smarts, discipline, and coverage instead of hard hits and speed. It's more important for a free safety to know where to rotate his coverage and take the right angle than it is for him to hit hard or have blazing speed. Al Harris deserves a chance to continue to be a great contributor for the Packers for many seasons to come, and this change would give him the chance to not only to that, but make this pass defense into a Super Bowl defense.