http://www.vancouversun.com/sports/Legendary+Colts+tight+John+Mackey+dies/5066234/story.htmlBALTIMORE - As one of football's great tight ends, the Baltimore Colts' John Mackey used to bull his way past the goal line, dragging tacklers on his back. As the first president of the National Football League Players Association, he carried his brethren into the modern era of free agency and big-money contracts.
Mackey, whose off-the-field exploits were as important as his accomplishments on it, died Wednesday of frontal temporal dementia, a disease he had battled for 10 years, at Keswick Multi-Care Center in Baltimore. He was 69.
Bull-necked and indomitable, Mackey forged a reputation with the Colts as an explosive receiver able to turn a short look-in pass into an 80-yard touchdown. The club's No. 2 draft pick in 1963, he redefined the role of the lumbering blocking end.
He revolutionized that position, said Don Shula, the Colts' coach from 1963 to 1969.
"Previous to John, tight ends were big strong guys like (Mike) Ditka and (Ron) Kramer who would block and catch short passes over the middle," Shula said. "Mackey gave us a tight end who weighed 230, ran a 4.6 and could catch the bomb. It was a weapon other teams didn't have."
In his nine years with the Colts, the club won a Super Bowl and three conference championships. Of Mackey's 38 touchdown receptions, 13 were for 50 yards or more, including an 89-yarder against the Los Angeles Rams in 1966. That score, on the game's first offensive play, was the longest of the 290 scoring passes in John Unitas' career.
"(Mackey) didn't have the best of hands," Unitas once said. "But his running ability was second to none. "
His most famous catch came in the 1971 Super Bowl, when he grabbed a twice-tipped pass from Unitas and raced 75 yards for a touchdown in Baltimore's 16-13 victory over Dallas.
"That play turned the game around for us," said Glenn Ressler, then the Colts' starting guard. "If you needed a clutch catch or a block, you'd get it from John. He embodied what the Colts were all about."
Elected in 1992 to the Pro Football Hall of Fame, Mackey refused to accept his ceremonial ring in Indianapolis, where the Colts had moved in 1984.
"I will do it in Baltimore," he told Hall officials. "That is where I played. "
Mackey won out. He received the ring in Memorial Stadium, at halftime of an exhibition game between Miami and New Orleans.
"John was a fighter, a man with great integrity, one who wouldn't roll over for anybody," said Bob Vogel, an All-Pro tackle who played beside Mackey. "Nothing he did was from the perimeter. Whatever he took on, he was totally involved."
The son of a Baptist minister, Mackey grew up in Roosevelt, N.Y. He turned down an appointment to the Naval Academy to attend Syracuse University. There he studied economics, made All-American and roomed with a running back named Ernie Davis - the first black player to win the Heisman Trophy.
Mackey would model himself after Davis, who died of leukemia at 23.
"Ernie was big and fast, like a hurricane," Mackey said. "He could run past you or knock you down. But he was never arrogant.
"He motivated me."
The 19th player chosen in the 1963 NFL draft, Mackey impressed his Colts teammates even before he signed a contract.
"The first time I saw John was when he walked through the locker room, after practice, to meet Shula," said Ordell Braase, defensive end. "John was wearing a suit, and right behind him were his lawyer, physician and a couple of others in suits, too.
"I thought, 'What's going on here?' Back then, most players negotiated their own deals, but Mackey had a task force with him. I said, 'By God, this guy is not going to get taken.'
"He was focused on what he wanted, and I admired him for that."
"He was a tough physical specimen, an unbelievable ballplayer and a good, good man," said Lenny Moore, the Colts' Hall of Fame running back and one of Mackey's closest friends. "People will never fully understand the impact he had on negotiations between players and owners, and the stuff we were after. John unlocked those gates - no, he knocked the doors down."
As a first-year starter, Mackey caught 35 passes for more yardage (726) and touchdowns (seven) than either of the Colts' veteran wide receivers, Raymond Berry or Jimmy Orr.
"I'm not surprised (at the numbers)," Orr said. "John was faster than both Raymond and I."
Nearly 50 years later, Hall of Famer Berry marvels at Mackey's feats of yore.
"Getting blocked by John was like being hit by (boxer) Sugar Ray Robinson. He exploded into you, like lightning," Berry said. "He was fireplug-solid, not so much tall as broad. It was difficult to find a piece of him to get your arms around."
Among Berry's keepsakes is an NFL highlights film that features the 6-foot-2 Mackey at his best. In a 1966 game against Detroit, No. 88 caught a 6-yard pass and proceeded to ricochet off opponents.
"Gathering a short pass from (quarterback Gary) Cuozzo, Mackey broke one tackle, somehow escaped from the clutches of three more defenders who appeared to have him at bay, bulled his way past two more tacklers and outran the rest of the Lions for a 64-yard touchdown gallop," The Evening Sun wrote the next day.
Said Detroit coach Harry Gilmer: "He (Mackey) was knocking everybody down as he went, and I thought he was going to come over and knock me down, too."
The play was vintage Mackey, teammates said.
"Defensive backs fell off of him like gnats," said Jerry Hill, a fullback. "John didn't have a fluid gait - he looked like a plowhorse - but you didn't want to touch him for fear of getting caught up in the wheels."
Mackey thrived on contact, said Vogel:
"Sometimes you had a sense that, given the option, John would rather run over you than outrun you."
No team respected Mackey more than Green Bay, the Colts' archrival in the 1960s.
"He was the criteria by which you measured tight ends," said Dave Robinson, the Packers' All-Pro linebacker who regularly squared off against him. "If you played well against John Mackey, you could play against anyone."
The Packers' strategy against Mackey was direct, said Robinson:
"(Coach) Vince Lombardi said, 'If Mackey catches a short pass, I want everyone to rally around him. Don't let the safety try take him down.'"
At the same time, Mackey's crushing blocks roiled Green Bay's linemen.
"Willie Davis (the Hall of Fame defensive end) would holler, 'Just keep that Mackey off of me,'" Robinson said. "I tried. But I never left Baltimore without dragging the next morning."
A three-time All-NFL selection, Mackey also played in five Pro Bowls. In a 10-year career (the last with the San Diego Chargers), he caught 331 passes for 5,236 yards.
In 1969, while still playing, he made the NFL's 50th anniversary team as pro football's all-time tight end.
"To be on the field with John was eerie," said center Bill Curry, his roommate with the Colts. "It was like being in the presence of Superman."
Mackey's kryptonite? Bugs.
"He hated them," Curry said. "Once, before practice in Westminster, running back Tom Matte dropped a live cicada down John's pants. He didn't know it until we were in the huddle and everyone heard this whirring noise.
"John looked up, all serious, and said, 'What's that? Is one of them in here with us?' Then he felt the thing in his pants.
"He ripped those pants off, in the middle of the field, with 300 people watching."
At the same time, said Curry, "John had the presence of mind to yell, 'Surround me! Surround me!' to the rest of us.
"Of course, we all scattered."
Once, at San Francisco's Kezar Stadium, groundskeepers removed the pre-game tarp, revealing thousands of writhing red earthworms.
"John took one look at those things and said, 'They're not going to get on me,'" Curry said.
He caught a half-dozen passes that day but never hit the ground. The 49ers couldn't bring him down. At game's end, his was the only white jersey on the field.
Despite the accolades, Mackey was no shoo-in for the Hall of Fame. Most believe his involvement with the NFLPA kept him out of Canton until his 15th and final year of eligibility.
As the union's first president after the 1970 merger of the NFL and American Football League, Mackey quickly raised the owners' ire. That July, he organized a three-day strike that won the players $11 million in pensions and benefits. In 1972, he filed and eventually won a landmark antitrust suit that brought them free agency. (The union bargained it away in 1977.)
"He was the right man at the right time," said Braase, who preceded Mackey as head of the player's association. "We were a fractured group until John began putting permanence in (the union's) day-to-day operations. He hired administrators and a general counsel.
"He had a vision for that job, which was more than just putting in time and keeping the natives calm. You don't get anything unless you really rattle the cage."
Mackey's legacy can be found in those million-dollar contracts the NFL's players enjoy, said Ozzie Newsome, the Ravens general manager.
"All of the benefits of today's players come from the foundation laid by John Mackey," said Newsome, himself a Hall of Fame tight end. "He took risks. He stepped out. He was willing to be different."
Off the field, Mackey leaned highbrow. He drove a Bentley. He emceed a concert by the Baltimore Symphony at the Lyric Theatre. He did a weekly sports report on WJZ-TV and served as sports director of WEBB radio. He starred in a CBS quiz show, Alumni Fun, as a member of the Syracuse University team. He published his autobiography, Blazing Trails.
"John was an elegant guy, from his vocabulary to the way he conducted himself in public," Vogel said. "He enhanced the image of athletes. He raised the bar."
Mackey is survived by his wife, Sylvia, of Baltimore, to whom he was married for 47 years; a son, John Kevin Mackey, of Atlanta; two daughters, Lisa Mackey Hazel of Bowie, Md., and Laura Mackey Nattans of Baltimore; and six grandchildren.
Plans for a memorial service are pending. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the Association For Frontal Temporal Degeneration, Radnor Station Building 2, Suite 320, 290 King Of Prussia Rd, Radnor, Pa. 19087, or to the Sports Legacy Institute, P.O. Box 181225, Boston, Mass. 02118.
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