It was one of those moments that defines, even redefines, a life, although it didn’t look like it. A new coach had taken over the sorriest team in the league, a team that had barely managed to escape being winless the year before. Rookies had reported to camp, but the vets weren’t required to report for a couple of days yet, when the veteran wide receiver and fullback showed up. Their intention was to settle in slowly, have a look (and a laugh) at the rookies, and then have some fun in town before their training camp began.

The new coach called them in and informed them that if they were going to stay at the facility, they would be expected to suit up and practice with the rookies. The fullback stood on his rights as a veteran and refused. For some reason, the wide receiver agreed with the coach and showed up for practice the next day. By the time the season began, the fullback was gone, and the wide receiver was starting.

So began the often tempestuous relationship between the coach and the player, Vince Lombardi and Max McGee. When the following year the team had a sloppy practice, Lombardi was miffed, and began his lecture with, “It appears you’ve forgotten everything we worked on last year, so we’ll have to go back to basics. Gentlemen, this is a football.” Max immediately piped up, “Wait, coach, can you take it a little slower, please?” And even Lombardi cracked up.

In the 1960 NFL Championship game against the Eagles, Max dropped back to punt on fourth down (in addition to wide receiver he was the team’s regular punter). He took the snap, stepped forward to begin the punt, realized none of the Eagles were paying any attention to him, and took off running for a first down. Lombardi, furious that McGee hadn’t followed orders, sent a replacement on the field. McGee begged quarterback Starr, “Don’t send me off, Bart! He’ll kill me!” Starr turned calmly to the referee and declared, “Substitution refused.” This scene was repeated several times as the offense marched down the field, taking advantage of the second chance McGee had given them.

The drive ended in a touchdown pass from Starr to McGee, and only after catching it was McGee willing to return to the sidelines. He said later that if he’d dropped that pass, he was just going to keep right on running through the end zone off the field and straight to the locker room, because he knew he wasn’t going to be playing any more that day, if ever.

He knew he should have punted, but he took an opportunity. He was never one to let opportunity pass by, whether it was an opportunity to party all night on the night before Super Bowl I or whether it was the opportunity to get into the restaurant business. So when he had an opportunity to clear his roof, he took it, even though he knew he shouldn’t. I suspect if you had asked him, he would have preferred to go out working than to waste away, anyway.

Max McGee was a regular part of my Sundays in the fall, first as a player, then as a color commentator on Radio. He was that rare item, a commentator who was willing to tell the truth, even when it reflected badly on the home team. During Sterling Sharpe’s rookie season, when he was dropping too many passes, his partner in the booth (Jim Irwin) would offer the excuse “That was a difficult ball to handle.” Max would invariably retort, “That’s why he’s getting paid. Anyone can catch the easy ones, you’re paid to catch the hard ones.” The tendency of some players to bring their feet together when they catch the ball was another habit he was always willing to criticize. He was refreshing and reliable in the booth; I used to watch the games with the TV sound off and the radio on, just for that reason.

While you have to find successors to men like Max, you can never find a replacement for them. He is missed now, and will always be missed. And if I felt like crying when I heard the news, I can only imagine how much his family, teammates and friends will miss him. My prayers are with them, and if I could think of anything I could do to help, it would already be done.

Hail and farewell, Max. You were such a regular part of my life for so long. You will be missed.