That First Season: How Vince Lombardi Took the Worst Team in the NFL and Set It on the Path to Glory

by John Eisenberg

Lombardi learned how to organize a short, useful practice, analyze game film, prepare for a big game, and motivate players.

The Packers, conversely, didn’t seem to work hard and clearly had a debilitating case of what Lombardi called defeatism. Beaten

down by failure, they expected the worst and palpably sagged when things didn’t go their way.

They had, Lombardi felt, accepted their lot as a losing team. We have to change their attitude before we change a...

He had to teach the players not to think like losers.

Although they would be pushed, they would hopefully start to develop some self-respect. That and a few victories would help matters.

Starr privately wondered if some of his teammates cared about winning.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “we’re going to relentlessly chase perfection, knowing full well we will not catch it, because perfection is not attainable. But we are going to relentlessly chase it because, in the process, we will catch excellence.”

“If I ever hear ‘nigger’ or ‘dago’ or anything like that, regardless of who you are, you’re through here,” he said. “You can’t play for me if you have any kind of prejudice.”

The players also tried to find the humor in their situation when they could. One day Lombardi railed at them throughout the afternoon workout, complaining loudly about dropped passes, botched fundamentals, and

forgotten assignments. Obviously in a foul mood, he picked back up during a meeting that evening, telling them they had a lot to learn. Dramatically, he held a ball aloft and said, “We’re starting at the beginning. Gentlemen, this is a football.” McGee quickly raised his hand. “Coach?” he asked. “What?” Lombardi barked, annoyed at the interruption. “Can you not go so fast?” McGee said. Lombardi couldn’t help laughing. Practice went better the next day.

“I’ve always had coaches who told me to do things, but didn’t tell me why. Lombardi tells you why,” McHan said.

Lombardi would meet with them regularly, he said, to discuss how to attack their next opponent; Lombardi always had ideas but wanted the players’ input, he said, since they called the plays. Somewhat startlingly, he

dropped his taskmaster’s persona and became a progressive schoolteacher in these meetings, encouraging dialogue and thought.

Lombardi had challenged him, humbled him, frightened him, helped him, and in the end, rewarded him. He didn’t know if he could keep the starting job for long, but he had it now.

This was not the time to tear down the players’ confidence, Lombardi decided. It was a shaky confidence to begin with, and with so many difficult games looming, the players needed to be supported more than ripped apart.

Instead of reviewing their mistakes, he spent much of the hourlong film session pointing out what they had done well.

Sometimes you just wanted to slug him, but other times he inspired you to dig down and play harder.

Furious, Lombardi slammed the locker room door shut after the game. He picked up a towel and slammed it down. We’re as good as they are and you damn well know it! You better start showing some guts and desire! He kicked a metal locker, the hollow clang echoing in a silent locker room. If you don’t there are going to be a lot of changes around here! I can guarantee you that.

“You need to decide whether you want to be here with us when we start to win. I need better concentration. I need more consistency. I need fewer mistakes.”

“I’ll say this much. This club hasn’t quit. They’ve stayed right in there, and it’s to their credit and their credit alone.”

Of course, after Lombardi tore you down, he always came around later, flashed that grin, hit you on the shoulder, complimented you, and asked about your kids, and suddenly, instead of being angry, you just wanted to play better.

A year earlier, when they were getting pounded on Sundays, they basically gave up, and Scooter didn’t command enough respect to make them work harder. They couldn’t do that now. Lombardi scared them too much. They knew he was right to be pushing them, demanding that they respect themselves more.

That damn Lombardi had stuck with him, given him another chance. He appreciated the hell out of it.

We didn’t like him as a person. Damn, he was impossible. But we loved him as a coach. We hated the way he treated us, but we were glad we had him. He was going to make us special.”

If you weren’t using any part of your talent, he wanted it. He wanted everything. It drove you crazy, and there were a lot of hurts and a lot of pain, but it was all worth it.”

He was the right man for the right job at the right time. It was like with little kids, when they’re doing bad stuff, playing with matches, someone has to step in and go, ‘DAMMIT, YOU DON’T DO THAT!’ He got our attention in 1959, showed us the right way, how to prepare and play hard and smart. After that first year, I was ashamed for having not played like that in my first five years. And from then on, I loved it. I would do it all again for the same money.