I called it “the Willie Lanier Facemask”.
Willie Lanier was a middle linebacker for the Kansas City Chiefs from 1967 through 1977. He won postseason honors for eight consecutive years, making the American Football League All-Star team in 1968 and 1969 before being selected to the Pro Bowl from 1970 through 1975. Willie Lanier was the defensive star of the Chiefs upset win over the Minnesota Vikings in Super Bowl IV, and was inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 1986.
Willie Lanier and the Kansas City Chiefs of the mid-seventies pioneered the use of a new facemask for linemen and linebackers. This same prototype was also worn by other Kansas City stars, such as defensive end Buck Buchanan, defensive tackle Curley Culp, and outside linebacker Bobby Bell.
For starters, this facemask was white instead of the standard gray. Secondly, it had three horizontal bars instead of the regular two. But it was the vertical bars that made this facemask look so cool. One vertical bar protected the nose by running down from the helmet’s crown to the top horizontal bar. Below that, the facemask had vertical bars on the left cheek and the right cheek.
Well, every linemen and linebacker on my high school football team wanted to wear a Willie Lanier facemask. But my high school only had one of them.
Thus, I called it the annual “Facemask War”.
During early summer football practices, this war was the linemen’s jockeying for position to be the first of his brethren to get his pads on equipment issue day. Such maneuvering guaranteed that he would get the Willie Lanier facemask. Consequently, you saw the linemen and linebackers gutting it out on wind sprints and up-downs.
The number two lineman was relegated to getting the one “cage” style facemask that my high school had. It was the standard gray with three horizontal bars and one vertical bar—like that worn by Dick Butkus.
Nobody wanted the single-bar facemasks. You looked like a dork from the 1950s with your face exposed like that. In the NFL, only kickers and punters wore such stupid facemasks—and everybody knew how uncool kickers and punters were.
Likewise, nobody wanted the standard, double-bar facemasks. They were almost as uncool. Roger Staubach was a great American, but he looked like a doofus in that facemask. So did every other NFL Quarterback.
In the summer of 1974, a senior named Steve won the Willie Lanier facemask. At six feet two and two hundred and twenty-five pounds, Steve desired to play offensive guard and middle linebacker. The only problem was that Steve wasn’t well-liked because he was religious. Isn’t that a sad commentary? But he was always shoving that “Is God your Lord and Savior?” stuff into your face.
Furthermore, goody two-shoes Steve had short hair, was an honor student, and didn’t smoke or drink.
Oh well. Steve was Steve. If the truth be told, I didn’t mind him.
Enter a boy named Brian. He was a new move-in from nearby Circleville. Big and husky, he would be in the same senior class as Steve once school started. But the similarity ended there. Brian wasn’t religious. And he had red hair down to his shoulders, had barely passed at Circleville High School, and he smoked and drank.
Like Steve, Brian desired to play offensive guard and middle linebacker; however, unlike Steve, Brian’s helmet was adorned with the Dick Butkus facemask.
Oh well. Brian was Brian. I accepted him for who he was too.
During two-a-days of 1974, our Head Coach, Mr. Perry Griffith, employed this one particular blocking drill for the offensive linemen. It was, at the same time, both crudely simple yet incredibly difficult. First, he placed a wooden plank upon the ground. Then he had two offensive linemen get down in their three point stances—nose-to-nose—with the plank lying lengthwise between each combatant’s feet. At the whistle, the drill was straightforward: drive your opponent off the plank.
Meanwhile, the remaining offensive linemen encircled the two gladiators to encourage them and clap and cheer and hoot and howl.
One morning, after warming up and stretching, the team split up and proceeded to their respective offensive position coaches.
Once away from the backs and ends, Mr. Griffith blew his whistle to get the linemen’s attention. TWEEEEEET! Then he instructed, “Steve, get on the plank.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” was his disciplined response.
Steve stepped to the plank and straddled it with his hands on his hips.
I wondered who the poor sap was that Mr. Griffith would choose next.
“Brian, get on the plank.”
A collective gasp arose from the offensive linemen.
“Okay, Coach,” was his slacker reply.
Brian walked to the plank and stood astride the wooden board, facing Steve.
Yeah, I guess that it eventually had to happen: “The Clash of the Titans”. It was good versus evil . . . teetotaler versus party boy . . . healthy lungs versus emphysema . . . the Willie Lanier facemask versus the Dick Butkus facemask.
“Get down,” Mr. Griffith commanded.
Both gladiators assumed a three point stance.
A momentary silence hung over the parched grass.
I could hear Steve loudly inhaling and exhaling: “Hoo! Hoo! Hoo . . .”
I could see Brian’s free left hand alternately clenching and opening and clenching and opening . . .
Mr. Griffith shifted the whistle from one side of his mouth to the other, and then . . .
TWEEEEEET!
CRASH!
“OOOOMPH!”
Initially, Steve fired out lower and got beneath Brian’s shoulder pads.
Brian dropped his hips, neutralizing Steve’s thrust.
Four arms and hands grappled for position—trying not to grab a jersey.
Both linemen’s cleats kicked grass divots backwards as their thighs and butts pushed.
Both boys grunted like animals.
Then—facemask to facemask—both bodies collapsed to their knees with the plank still running between them. Neither Titan had budged.
TWEEEEEET!
Mr. Griffith jumped upon the two-man pile, declaring a stalemate. He had found his two starting offensive guards.
Now who would be middle linebacker?
About the Author:
John Scanlan is a1983 graduate of the United States Naval Academy who retired from the Marine Corps as a Lieutenant Colonel aviator. He is now pursuing a second career as a writer and can be reached at ping1@hargray.com.