100 Things Cardinals Fans Should Know and Do Before They Die

games.

Contents

Foreword by Larry Fitzgerald

Introduction

1. Pat Tillman

2. Super Bowl XLIII

3. Larry Fitzgerald

4. 1947 Title

5. Kurt Warner

6. Charles Bidwill

7. University of Phoenix Stadium

8. Larry Wilson

9. 1948 Title Game

10. Moving to the Desert

11. Jake the Snake

12. Two Hail Marys and a Hail, Larry

13. Mario Motts Tonelli

14. The 1998 Regular Season Finale

15. Bill Bidwill

16. The Pottsville Curse

17. The 2015 Season

18. Jimmy Conzelman

19. Memorize Dennis Green’s Monday Night Meltdown

20. Charley Trippi

21. Dan Dierdorf

22. Cardiac Cardinals

23. Bruce Arians

24. Back-to-Back NFC East Champs in 1974 and 1975

25. Moving to St. Louis

26. Anquan Boldin

27. Patrick Peterson’s Happy Returns

28. Million Dollar Backfield

29. Roger Wehrli

30. Carson Palmer

31. The Honey Badger

32. The Genius

33. McCown to Poole

34. Aeneas Williams

35. Buddy Ryan

36. Ernie Nevers

37. Jim Hart

38. The 2005 Game in Mexico City

39. Adrian Wilson

40. Participate in Pat’s Run

41. A Comeback for the Ages

42. Night Train Lane

43. Gateway Joe Willie Namath?

44. Paddy Driscoll

45. Matt Leinart

46. Whiz

47. Marshall Goldberg

48. Neil Lomax

49. Jackie Smith

50. Larry Centers

51. Tour University of Phoenix Stadium

52. Packers-Cardinals Wild-Card Game

53. Dennis Green

54. The Car-Pitts

55. The Stadium Vote

56. The Stan Mauldin Tragedy

57. J.V. Cain

58. Michael Bidwill

59. Rolle’s Returns

60. Simeon Rice and His Contract Dispute

61. 2004 Draft Class

62. 1984 Finale

63. Trading Places in the 1998 NFL Draft

64. Dress Up as Bruce Arians for Halloween

65. Waving Bye to Flag

66. Running to Retirement Plan

67. Inglorious Endings

68. Ottis Anderson

69. Jetstream Green

70. Oh, No, Bono

71. How the Cardinals Got Their Name and Colors

72. Conrad Dobler

73. The Big Swap

74. Darnell Dockett

75. Keim Time

76. Mr. Reliable

77. Passing on A.P.

78. Luis Sharpe

79. The Post-Warner QB Debacle

80. When Hardy Threw Eight Interceptions in a Game

81. Duke Slater

82. Coach Mac

83. Eric Swann

84. Passing on a Local Pass Rusher

85. Boomer’s Big Day

86. Q’s Debut

87. Palmer Tears His ACL

88. Arians’ Wit and Wisdom

89. Gramatica’s Bad Leap

90. George Boone

91. Fitzgerald Moves to the Slot

92. Jen Welter

93. Take a Road Trip

94. Tailgate on The Great Lawn

95. Listen to Dave Pasch and Ron Wolfley

96. Monday Night(mares)

97. Visit the Pat Tillman Memorial

98. Visit Training Camp

99. Attend the Big Red Rage

100. Watch Jerry Maguire

Acknowledgments

Sources

Foreword by Larry Fitzgerald

I was 20 years old when the Cardinals drafted me in 2004. I grew up in Minneapolis, went to college at Pittsburgh, and didn’t know anyone in Arizona. So rather than go home and play video games by myself, I’d often hang around the team’s headquarters in Tempe. I helped the equipment guys, Mark Ahlemeier and Steve Stein Christensen, fold towels. I’d go upstairs and talk to vice presidents, Ron Minegar and Lisa Manning, or the ticket manager, Steve Bomar. I’d listen to our owner, Bill Bidwill, tell stories about the old days in the NFL.

It’s hard to believe sometimes that I’ve spent 12 seasons with the Cardinals. It’s been a transformative time for the organization. We went from being tenants at Sun Devil Stadium to having a place of our own, University of Phoenix Stadium. I experienced what it was like to lose 11 games in a season and to win at least 10 in three consecutive years. (Guess which I prefer?)

I experienced the exhilaration of making it to the Super Bowl and the heartbreak of losing one. I went from being the youngest player in the locker room to being the grizzled veteran. My hair grew out from what I call my baby dreads, and, come to think of it, I grew up, too. I’m old enough now to appreciate what the Cardinals have accomplished the last 12 years. It’s one of the best stories in sports, and I am thankful to be a part of it.

When I was young, Arizona was a destination for tourists, not for NFL players. The team was struggling and playing in a stadium where often the majority of the crowd was rooting for the other team. During my rookie year, we played the New York Jets in Arizona, and their fans were in the middle of the stands chanting J-E-T-S…Jets, Jets, Jets! It was bad. Growing up in Minneapolis, everyone rooted for the Vikings. No one cheered for the other teams. But what a change I’ve witnessed in Arizona. In 2015 we went to Chicago, and Cardinals fans were probably 6,000 deep at that game against the Bears. They were loud, passionate, and took over Soldier Field.

Today, we play in one of the NFL’s best stadiums, and players are anxious to come here.

Seriously, more than ever the past few years, an opponent has come up to me during a game and said, Hey, Fitz, my contract is up after this season. Put in a good word for me. Believe me, that never used to happen. How we’re perceived around the league has taken a drastic turn.

Larry Fitzgerald has been a Cardinal since Bill Bidwell (left) and Dennis Green (right) drafted him in the first round of the 2004 NFL Draft.

A lot of the credit goes to team president Michael Bidwill, who was his dad’s successor in running the team. The changes under his watch have been stunning. We have a new indoor practice bubble, a renovated training facility, and a state-of-the-art stadium. Along with a lot of other guys, I feel like I’ve been a part of the change, too. Even though we struggled early in my career, we had players who shared their wisdom with youngsters such as myself. When I was a rookie, running back Emmitt Smith taught me how to be professional. He taught me how to practice, how to study, and how to take care of my body, so I could make it through a season.

He taught me how to look like a pro, and to this day, I still bring two suits on road trips—one to wear to the plane in Phoenix and one to wear home. Emmitt taught me that. Another Hall of Fame-level player, Kurt Warner, taught me lessons about unselfishness and attention to detail. Do it this way, Kurt would say, or you’re not going to get the ball.

One of the few things that hasn’t changed during my 12 years is the main guy The Arizona Republic and azcentralsports.com has covering the team. Kent Somers covered my first press conference, and he’ll probably be there for my last, unless I just quietly slip into retirement. (That’s more my style.) No one is more qualified to write a book about the Cardinals. After all, the guy once got me fined $10,000.

I’ll explain, but first, let me say I respect the job reporters do. My dad’s a journalist, and my brother, Marcus, and I grew up watching him do his job. He took us to see all the major teams in Minneapolis: the Vikings, Twins, Timberwolves, Wild, and Gophers. But as a professional athlete, I don’t like talking about myself. So when I was young, I used to leave the locker room after games even before reporters were allowed in. As I started to have success, reporters, including Kent, complained that I wasn’t there to give my thoughts on the game.

So the NFL fined me $10,000. Let’s just say that I now stay so long after games that I often ask reporters if the collar is up on my suit and if my tie is straight.

In this book you’ll find a lot of great stories about so many interesting people. Can you imagine agreeing to buy an NFL team on a whim at a cocktail party for $50,000? That’s what Charles Bidwill did. Or spending all of World War II in a Japanese prisoner of war camp, losing close to 100 pounds, and then returning home to suit up for an NFL game? The Mario Motts Tonelli story is incredible. Or being the so-called worst NFL team in history to make it to the Super Bowl? The story of that playoff run in 2008 is in here, too.

In some ways the last 12 years have gone by so fast. I’ve got two boys now and I spend my free time outside the facility. Guys in the equipment room give me a hard time now when I leave the locker room in the afternoon. Fitz, how come you never help fold towels anymore?

I’m like, Man, I’ve got a family now. I have to pick up my kids from school. We have basketball practice this afternoon.

I am proud of the improvement the Cardinals have made over the past 12 years. To know I was a part of that gives me great satisfaction. The Cardinals drafted me third overall, and I’ve always felt there is an obligation that comes from that and to be part of the group that laid a foundation for future success.

—Larry Fitzgerald

Introduction

When did you fall in love with football? For me, that’s like asking when I took my first breath.

I’ve been around it all my life. When I was four or five, my dad coached high school football in Oklahoma, and I have fuzzy memories of small stadiums on Friday nights. I played with cousins and neighbors in the yard, and my first experience in organized football was playing in a YMCA league, in which the weight limit was 65 pounds. I’ve added many years and pounds since, but I’ve stayed around the game.

With the exception of a couple years, I’ve covered the Cardinals since 1994. Buddy Ryan and I arrived at the same time, but I avoided telling Cardinals fans that they had a writer in town. I knew better than to brag because I was following Lloyd Herberg on the beat. A great reporter, Lloyd died of cancer in the spring of 1994, leaving a huge byline to replace.

Luckily, Steve Schoenfeld, our NFL writer, was there to help me along. He introduced me to owners, agents, players, coaches, custodians, and on and on. Steve knew everyone and I would have floundered without him. We tragically lost Steve to a hit-and-run driver in 2000.

All three of us covered some lean years for the Cardinals—even lean decades. Over my 20-plus years on the beat, the one question I heard most from fans and readers was, Don’t you get tired of covering a bad team?

I’ll admit that there were some repetitive storylines. And there were many times I wondered what I was going to say that day that was different from the week before, and the week before that. But even when the Cardinals were losing, great stories were plentiful. We never knew what we were going to get from Buddy. The playoff run in 1998 was amazing.

Players such as Larry Centers, Frank Sanders, Pete Kendall, and Larry Foote filled our notebooks with great quotes.

I was one of three reporters present when former coach Dave McGinnis announced Pat Tillman was joining the Army. I was one of many reporters who tried to decipher Dennis Green’s metaphors involving high-speed helicopters, pies, and kindergarten teachers. (Don’t ask for details, please.) And I was fortunate to cover a story none of us saw coming: the Cardinals making the Super Bowl in the 2008 season.

As reporters we don’t root for teams; we root for stories, and the Cardinals making it to the NFL championship game for the first time since 1947 was a big one. Although the Cardinals have won only two championships, the franchise is enjoying one of its brightest periods—the Bruce Arians era. And its history—from Chicago to St. Louis to Arizona—is filled with great stories. I’ve had the good fortune to cover many of them in the Valley of the Sun. Others, I’ve had the pleasure of learning about while researching and writing this book. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

1. Pat Tillman

On that spring day in 2002, Cardinals safety Pat Tillman walked into coach Dave McGinnis’ office and informed McGinnis that he intended to be an ex-safety and an ex-Cardinal. I’m joining the Army, Tillman told McGinnis.

McGinnis smiled, but he knew it was no joke. Tillman wasn’t the type of player to visit Coach Mac’s office. And McGinnis knew that once Tillman made up his mind about something, there was no reversing the decision. You know there’s going to a media shitstorm, McGinnis told Tillman. How are you going to handle that?

I’m not, Tillman replied. You are.

So McGinnis did. Three beat writers were summoned to a small room at the team complex. McGinnis met them and broke the news in six words. Pat Tillman is joining the Army, he said.

In retrospect Tillman’s decision to leave behind an NFL career to join the Army in the spring of 2002 should not have surprised us. He loved football, but Tillman’s interests were varied. He loved reading, discussing social issues, traveling, and taking on new challenges.

In his rookie season with the Cardinals, he rode a bike to work on many days. During one offseason he ran a full marathon just to see what it was like. He completed a triathlon the next year. This is very serious with Pat, McGinnis told us in 2002. It’s not just a snap decision. You’re not dealing with a guy who’s real shallow. You’re dealing with a guy whose waters run pretty deep.

That wasn’t the first impression Tillman sometimes left with people. He often wore his hair long and preferred shorts, T-shirts, and sandals over suits and dress shoes. Former Cardinals quarterback Jake Plummer was a teammate of Tillman’s in the NFL and at Arizona State. Plummer already was a Sun Devil when Tillman, who hailed from San Jose, came to Tempe, Arizona, on his recruiting visit.

Plummer doesn’t remember having much of a first impression of Tillman. I remember him being just a guy who said ‘dude’ a lot, Plummer said. "He was laid-back, not presumptuous at all.

Tillman was a star at Arizona State, but few expected him to make it in the NFL. He played linebacker in college, but at 5'11" and 204 pounds, Tillman would have to play safety in the NFL. McGinnis and Cardinals defensive coordinator Larry Marmie went to ASU in the spring of 1998 to put Tillman through a private workout. It wasn’t pretty. Tillman struggled through defensive backs drills, growing angrier with each setback. But Tillman insisted on going through the complete workout. McGinnis and Marmie loved what they had seen of Tillman in college, and that competitive spirit came through in the private workout. So the Cardinals selected Tillman with the third of four seventh-round picks the team had that year.

A free spirit off the field, Pat Tillman displays his on-field intensity in 1998 after tackling New Orleans Saints running back Lamar Smith for a loss.

Tillman started 10 games as a rookie, and the Cardinals made the playoffs for the first time since 1975. In two of his next three seasons, Tillman became the team’s regular starting safety. But like many other Americans, Tillman’s life changed on September 11, 2001. It was a Tuesday, normally a day off for the Cardinals. But Tillman was among a handful of players who showed up at the team facility for work that day. Like most other Americans, he watched as news unfolded of the terrorist attacks on the country.

In an interview with azcardinals.com the next day, Tillman spoke passionately about his love for the country and the debt he felt he owed. Times like this, you not only stop to think about how good we have it, he said, but what kind of system we live under, what freedoms we’re allowed. And that wasn’t built overnight. My great-grandfather was at Pearl Harbor, and a lot of my family has gone and fought in wars. And I really haven’t done a damn thing, as far as laying myself on the line like that. So I have a great deal of respect for those that have and for what the flag stands for.

Fiercely loyal, in the spring of 2001, Tillman declined to pursue a five-year, $9 million offer from the St. Louis Rams because he felt loyalty to the Cardinals coaches who had taken a chance on him. Tillman amassed 70 tackles in 2001 and helped a rookie, Adrian Wilson, who Tillman knew was likely to replace him in 2002. The Cardinals wanted Tillman back, however, because he would have played an important role on special teams and in passing situations.

The Cardinals tried to re-sign Tillman that offseason, ultimately offering a three-year deal worth about $3.6 million. They thought it was curious that they couldn’t get Tillman to sign, considering the lack of interest from other teams. Maybe, they reasoned, Tillman would re-sign after he was married that spring. The Cardinals were super with him, Tillman’s agent, Frank Bauer said at the time. They made nice offers and were patient. Most clubs would say the guy is whacked.

Among Tillman’s friends, word started to leak that spring that Tillman was joining the Army. One acquaintance asked Plummer to try and talk Tillman out of it. I kind of chuckled, Plummer said. Nobody was going to talk him out of it. If his wife wasn’t going to talk him out of it, what chance did I have?

Cardinals defensive tackle Russell Davis was at home Thursday when his wife yelled to him that Tillman had just signed. That’s good, Davis said.

With the Army, his wife said.

Tillman’s decision to reject millions of dollars to serve his country became one of the biggest stories in the country. Every major news outlet called seeking interviews. Every one received the same answer. Pat’s not talking about it. He’s not doing it for publicity and he wants to be considered no different than any other soldier.

A few days after McGinnis announced Tillman’s news, Tillman visited the team’s headquarters to complete some paperwork and say good-bye to team employees. After talking to those in the media relations department, Tillman exited through the press room. If you ever decide to talk about your decision, don’t forget your local beat writer, I said.

I appreciate that, Tillman said, but it’s not going to happen.

On April 22, 2004, Pat Tillman was killed in action in Afghanistan. A nation mourned, and hundreds of Tillman fans visited the Cardinals facility where an enormous memorial stood for weeks.

Tillman’s sacrifice resonated with people throughout the world. That’s just part of his legacy, Plummer said. Just as important as Tillman serving his country was the way he treated others, including friends. Pat always seemed to find the time to connect with people he cared about, Plummer said. He did his part to make friendships last. There are times people say, ‘I haven’t been able to call you. I’m so busy.’ But Pat always found the time to pick up the phone. He treated people with respect. He’d look you in the eye when he talked to you. He was genuine. Those are the traits you hope your kids have.

The Tillman Cover-Up

Pat Tillman was not perfect. His family would be among the first to tell anyone that. Pat would, too, because he did not lie. So it’s sadly ironic that his death prompted the Army and government he served to produce a series of lies designed to cover up how the former Cardinals safety was killed in Afghanistan.

An Army Ranger, Tillman was killed on April 22, 2004, about two years after he left a successful football career to enlist, along with his brother, Kevin, who played minor league baseball. Immediately, the powers that be spun a narrative that Tillman had died while charging up a hill to protect fellow Rangers. He was awarded the Silver Star. Later, the truth emerged, mostly because of the dogged determination of Tillman’s mother, Mary. He died of fratricide—killed by friendly fire.

Kevin was in a convoy about 15 minutes behind Pat and didn’t see the incident. According to witness testimony years later, a battalion commander ordered that Kevin not be told the truth about how Pat died. Kevin was told that Pat had been shot and killed by enemy soldiers. Pat’s uniform was burned, as was his journal.

About three years after his brother’s death, Kevin testified at a congressional hearing. It was the first time he spoke publicly about Pat’s death and how the truth had been covered up.

It was an attempt to deceive the Tillman family and the rest of America. The Army had been the center of a handful of embarrassing incidents at the time, and the decision was made that the truth about Tillman’s death would not be told. To our family and friends, it was a devastating loss. To the nation it was a moment of disorientation. To the military it was a nightmare, Kevin said. But to others within the government, it appears to have been an opportunity.

2. Super Bowl XLIII

With 2:37 left in Super Bowl XLIII, the team dubbed the worst team to ever make the NFL playoffs led 23–20. For a Cardinals fan, this was the point the alarm went off, spoiling the pleasant dream. Or their mothers woke them for school. It’s when they hit the snooze alarm or begged for five more minutes. But this was real.

It was February 1, 2009, and the Cardinals were within minutes of their first NFL title since 1947. The Cardinals weren’t supposed to be anywhere close to Tampa, Florida, on February 1. They won the NFC West, but they hobbled into the playoffs with a 9–7 record. They lost four of their last six regular season games, and three of the losses were by three touchdowns or more. So while the Cardinals took offense when NBC’s Cris Collinsworth called them the worst postseason team ever, it was hard to