www.edkleese.blogspot.com

www.edkleese.blogspot.com

Only children do some interesting things. Some may think it’s weird, but for those of us out there who grew up sibling-less, these weird behaviors were borne out of necessity.

Only children who grow up obsessed with the NFL do some even more interesting things. As a child my “weird behavior” list was pretty long, but at the very top of that list had to be the imaginary NFL games I would play all by myself. I would catch, tackle, fumble, pass, kick, gouge, announce, rejoice, argue, and wallow in the mud all in the same series of motions and movements. I especially enjoyed the wallowing—just ask my Mom.

The behavior itself was pretty strange, but I think the motivation behind the behavior may have been even stranger. Most of the time, I would engage in these “games” in or near our front yard. But on occasion, when I was feeling a bit more “dangerous,” I would head to the front entrance of our neighborhood at 87th and Harvard in Tulsa, OK. The entrance area would get especially muddy, but more importantly, there was traffic coming and going. And traffic meant an audience. I was happy to “perform” for anyone who happened to be walking or driving by—but I was always hoping for one person in particular to catch my act.

At this point in my life, I am certified sports nut. I can trace my love of Major League Baseball, the NBA, and the two major college sports to specific times in my childhood. But with the NFL, there is no trace. It is as if it was written into my DNA. I do not possess a memory of time when I did not love the sport. For as long as I can remember, I was mesmerized by the helmets, uniforms, history, and drama of the NFL. I still get chills when I hear the original Monday Night Football theme song.

And then there was Madden. How could a kid not fall in love with THAT guy? John Madden oozed passion from the announcing booth. When I would see him on TV going nuts over the minutia of the game, I would get so excited because it made me feel like less of a freak. Here was this successful grown-up getting just as giddy about a mud-covered helmet as I was. If he could get away with it, then so could I.

He and his original partner, Pat Summerall, were as instrumental in the development of my love of the game as anyone. As a Redskins fan, I knew if Madden and Summerall were in the booth, that meant it was a big game. From a tactical standpoint, Madden helped me understand the importance of winning the game in trenches. He was the only analyst that was able to tell you exactly what the right guard did on the play almost before it was over. He saw things away from the ball—he helped teach me the game.

While his tactical prowess was always underrated, Madden will fittingly always be remembered for his passion, humor, and unique view of the game. Summerall was the straight-man and Madden delivered the punch lines—but never at the expense of the game (unlike many of the analysts today). His timing was impeccable, he always knew when to focus on the game, divert attention to the kid with the ice cream splattered on his face in the stands, or wax poetic about the “finality” of a team that was about to lose in the playoffs. In his prime, he was perfect.

As he got older, he slipped a bit, as we all do. He became a bit fixated on certain players and teams (Brett Favre), and he wasn’t quite as sharp as he was in heyday. But Madden always brought the passion—and that was good enough for me.

Madden goes down as an icon. But as a kid, I simply viewed him as an older version of myself.

Back to that muddy neighborhood entrance…

By that time, I knew Madden was afraid to fly and I knew he traveled from city to city via his RV—the famous Madden Cruiser.

Even though I knew it was a long shot, I was convinced that if Madden happened to drive by and see me re-enacting Redskins-Cowboys doused in mud and sweat that he’d stop and say hello—or maybe even invite me aboard to join him en route to his next destination.

Of course, the Cruiser never came. But that doesn’t mean that Madden didn’t take me for a ride.