NFL Hall of Fame Inductees, Class of 2001
Aug. 4, 2001 -- Patience was never a more virtuous commodity on display than it was here this afternoon. The Pro Football Hall of Fame inducted seven members who totaled 101 seasons of contributions to the NFL, but who waited an aggregate 93 years for acceptance into a fraternity that honors only the most elite performers.
Patience and, of course, an industrial-sized dose of humility as well.
"Every year, when the call came telling me that I hadn't made it into the Hall, it was a humbling experience," said former Pittsburgh Steelers wide receiver Lynn Swann, who had been eligible for consideration since 1987 and been a 14-time finalist. "But getting into the Hall of Fame, now being a part of this and seeing the caliber of person that you have to be for induction, that's even more humbling. Let me tell you, and I might not have always felt this way before, but the wait to get here was worth it."
Patience Runs the Field
Indeed, if there was a common thread woven into the rich football tapestries brought here by all seven new members — beyond their collective brilliance on the field and the sideline, and their grace away from the arena — it was patience each man exhibited when it appeared that he might never fulfill the game's greatest dream. By unofficial count, it was the longest collective waiting period for any Hall of Fame class in the last 30 years.
When that patience finally received the ultimate reward here this weekend, it manifested itself in passion, emotion, relief and a sense of accomplishment.
"People would always say to me, 'Don't worry, Jack, they'll put you in next year,' " said former Rams defensive end Jack Youngblood. "But then next year came, and it was the same thing. And it gets to a point where you kind of give up hope. You wonder if you belong. Well, next year did finally come and I guess I belonged, huh?"
There is always a degree of politicking involved in the Hall of Fame selection process, with the members of the selection committee occasionally and subconsciously swayed by factors beyond the obvious. The debate over Swann's worthiness for induction, given that his career spanned just nine seasons and that his statistics outside of four Super Bowl victories are fairly pedestrian, was particularly fierce at times.
But in the year of the presidential recount vote, Swann and the others who joined him Saturday all comported themselves as if they had been first-ballot inductees. That the group included a guy with four championship rings and one of history's only four-time Super Bowl losers, was not lost on coach Marv Levy, whose brilliant tenure with the Buffalo Bills was overshadowed at times by the absence of a title game victory.
"Since I never got to hold that Vince Lombardi Trophy, except in the Friday press conferences when you had to pose with it, I can't say how that might have compared to this moment," Levy allowed. "But it would take something like that to top what is happening here today."
Youngblood and former Miami Dolphins linebacker Nick Buoniconti waited 17 and 20 years, respectively, to reach what each man considers a hallowed spot. There was, though, no pent-up bitterness from either great defender over the years of snubs. While all of the new enshrinees included poignant and pointed moments in their speeches, the induction oratory of Buoniconti's quadriplegic son, Marc, arguably elicited the most vocal response from a crowd that twirled Terrible Towels and banners from all the other teams for whom the new Hall of Fame members played.
Paralyzed during a game while playing at The Citadel, the younger Buoniconti spoke warmly of his father's efforts through The Miami Project to raise funds for research that might permit him to walk again someday.
"He's walked a lot of miles for me," said Marc Buoniconti. "And he walked enough miles finally to get here, where he belongs."
Hours before the televised induction speeches, the inductees address the media in private sessions and, characteristically, all seven new Hall members were in their own way eloquent this morning. At a Friday night party feting several hundred of his close friends, former Minnesota Vikings offensive left tackle Ron Yary, a man who redefined the position in the 1970s, nearly broke down several times as he accepted congratulations.
Tears From a Tackle
Jackie Slater, the former Los Angeles Rams stalwart tackle, wept as he hugged former teammates and club officials who had championed his cause.
"I've been here before," said Slater, who presented tailback Eric Dickerson for induction just two years ago. "But this time is so different. You don't really appreciate the meaning of it all, being a part of a team that can never release you or trade you, until you're here for yourself. And then, as you walk around and shake hands with some of the greatest players in history, it finally hits you, that you belong. You're a part of the greatest roster ever assembled."
The so-called "Class of 2001," with the emphasis on class, please, included the maximum amount of honorees permitted by the Hall of Fame voting guidelines. Not since 1990 has the NFL shrine welcomed a seven-man class and this marked just the third time in 30 years that the Hall of Fame inducted a full house. But on Saturday, as they had in January following the secret balloting, there was a palpable sense among electors that they had cleaned up some unfinished business.
The unofficial consensus six months ago had been that the '01 slate of candidates was among the weakest in years. But what the candidates might have lacked in name recognition or in terms of recent celebrity was compensated for by an undeniable strength in numbers. That was reflected in the acceptance of three offensive linemen — former Houston Oilers guard Mike Munchak joining Slater and Yary — into the Hall.
Not since the early '60s has a Hall of Fame class included three blockers. Then again, not for a long time have so many new Hall members each endured such a maddening wait for the ultimate validation of stellar careers. On Saturday, though, none of them were complaining.