Skip Still Believes in the Bucs
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Here we go. This is the Skip Bayless Show, episode 44.

in honor of the great Hank Aaron and the great Reggie Jackson, who gave me the greatest interview of my career. Thank you, Reggie, for that. This, as always, is The Un-Undisputed. This is everything I cannot share with you during the Go for the Throat debate show that is undisputed. In episode 44, I will explain to you why...

I defend Tom Brady so hard when I do battle with my man, Shannon Sharp. I will tell you about the one and only time in my life I got drunk. That was with Joe Namath. This episode, I will rapid fire through a bombardment of your great questions from what's my New Year's resolution to what's my hidden talent to what happens when

When I run into athletes I've criticized on air, I'll tell you my Blake Griffin story. But first up, as always, it is not to be skipped. So, as you might know, my man Shannon Sharp and I did get into it the other day on Undisputed Live over, of course, Tom Brady. Brothers fight.

Shannon and I compete hard on Undisputed. What's the theme song? No Mercy. I have the highest regard for Shannon Sharp because he prepares and he competes so hard. He's my toughest opponent ever. It's not even close. And I love to do battle with my man, even though occasionally we go a little too far. But if you happen to be actually watching the live episode this past Monday,

We both got over it very quickly. We moved right along. We got right back on track business as usual for the final, what, hour and 45 minutes of Undisputed on Monday. But it always seems that we fight the hardest over Baker Mayfield and Tom Brady.

We often, as you know, battle over LeBron James, but we don't really fight over LeBron. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because Shannon's in the Pro Football Hall of Fame, not in the Basketball Hall of Fame. So, deeper question. Why do I defend Tom Brady so fiercely? I've never met the man. Never communicated with him in any way, shape, or form. I'm a Cowboy fan, as you know. I don't really care about the Patriots or the Bucs.

I just think Tom Brady is the greatest football player ever and the clutchest. I think Shannon has the hardest time viewing Tom as a quarterback, as the greatest football player, and I will give in to that. It's almost like the great pocket passers are playing some other game that's above and beyond the actual game of football. Shannon says Brady at 45 rarely gets hit.

Though this past Sunday at San Francisco, he did get hit a season high eight times. But I will amend my staunch stance to, okay, Brady's the greatest quarterback ever, but not the greatest football player ever. But here's why I still dig in against Shannon about Brady at 45.

I've been studying the game of football for a long, long time, much longer than Shannon even played pro football. As I've said, I learned sort of at the knees of Bill Walsh, Tom Landry, great Jimmy Johnson. This is my point of view. I defy anybody out there to show me where Brady is just getting old because I don't see it. Is his arm strength eroding? No, not

Is his release slowing? No. Is his accuracy coming and going when he has a reasonable amount of time to throw the football? Absolutely not. Tom Brady at 45 looks to me exactly the same playing quarterback as he did at 35. Still capable of playing at an extremely high level. I do remind you, going into this season, his fellow NFL players of all ages are

voted Tom Brady as the best player in the entire National Football League. That's going into this current season. Tom Brady has not stepped off the proverbial aging cliff. But at 45, he obviously still needs the same things that he needed at 35 and 25 and probably when he was 15. He needs protection and he needs separation.

That's reasonable time to throw the football to receivers who are actually getting open by winning against defenders. I did communicate the other night, this is after Shannon and I got into it, with a very trusted longtime NFL source who is plugged in at Tampa Bay. This source said that the internal belief in Tampa Bay among Bucs officials is

is that, and I quote, Tom Brady is not the problem. He said the Tampa Bay Brain Trust still believes that Tom Brady is, quote, better than 99% of NFL quarterbacks, unquote. The source said that this year's team isn't remotely as good as last year's or certainly not remotely as good as the year before's team, which won the Super Bowl. Let us count those ways, shall we?

Right now, Tom Brady's offensive line has only one starter remaining from a year ago. That's the left tackle, Donovan Smith. And as my source said, he has been horrid, horrid. Donovan Smith leads the NFL in penalties. So gone are two pro bowlers from last year. That would be Ali, excuse me, Ali Marpet, who of course retired at left guard. Ryan Jensen, who's been hurt all year at center.

The other guard, Alex Capa, became a premium free agent and is now a Cincinnati Bengal who will play at Tampa against his Bucs on Sunday, his former team. And gone for a while has been the all-pro of the line from last year. That's Tristan Wirfs, who has been hurt. So what exactly did you think would happen against the NFL's best defense this past Sunday at San Francisco?

Brady was pressured by far the most he has been pressured all season long. No, he does not want to take career-threatening, potential career-ending hits at age 45. And yes, if the pocket collapses quickly around him and no one flashes open, he will throw the ball away. He will live to fight another play. He will, as we say, dirtball it.

So how different are Brady's receivers this season from last season? As you well know, Rob Gronkowski, Brady's all-time favorite target, his all-time best security blanket, is finally and officially gone and retired, working for us here at Fox, which Brady will do at some point in maybe the near or distant future.

Tom Brady obviously trusted Rob Gronkowski to be exactly where he was supposed to be and to get open exactly when he needed to on every crucial play that Tom executed. In the 12 games that Gronk played last year, he caught 55 balls from Tom Brady, including six for touchdowns. That was an average of 14.6 yards per catch. In 12 games this year,

A rookie tight end named Cade Otten has caught 36 passes. That's 19 fewer than Gronk in the same number of games for only two touchdowns to Gronk's six for a Cade Otten average of 9.4. So let's see. Gronk averaged 14.6 every time he caught the football to 9.4 for Cade Otten. That is an enormous gap.

The veteran tight end Cameron Brait has often been hurt this year, often been ineffective. He's got a neck injury. He's had concussion issues. He had four touchdown catches last year. He has zero this year. Last year in seven games, Antonio Brown, another favorite target of Brady's before his meltdown. A.B. caught 42 passes last year.

for 545 yards. That's 13 per catch over seven games. This year in eight games, the newcomer, Julio Jones, has caught 20 fewer passes than AB did in seven games last year. Julio is definitely showing his age and obviously has not taken up the AB slack. And for some reason, Brady and Mike Evans just have not clicked this year.

the way they did the last two years. I don't know, maybe Mike Evans had just beat up, but in 16 games last year, Mike Evans had 14 touchdown catches. This season, just through 12 games, he has only three touchdown catches. That is a dangerous drop off. Chris Godwin coming off ACL reconstruction. His yards per catch

or down from 11.3 a year ago to 9.6. It doesn't sound like much, but if you start doing the math over time, it's a significant drop off. So does Tom Brady have a running game to take some of the pressure off? Nope. Tom Brady's rushing attack is dead last in the NFL. I see great glimpses from the rookie Rashad White. I still see blasts from the past from Leonard Fortnette.

But it's not nearly the same as it was last year with playoff Lenny and Rojo, as in Ronald Jones. Remember Gio Bernard? He caught three touchdown passes last year out of the backfield. For some reason, all he's doing this year coming off injury is playing special teams, has not contributed anything. Would you believe that shortly into last Sunday's game at San Francisco, the Bucs were down six defensive starters?

no vita vea no antoine winfield no jamel dean no mike edwards no sean murphy bunting and maybe worst of all no joe tryon who is now their best pass rusher because their truly best pass rusher shaq barrett gone for the year with an achilles tear

So what happened? Brock Purdy, Mr. Irrelevant, became extremely relevant. Rookie, starting his first NFL game, looked like Joe Montana. It was 28 to nothing at halftime. Does Brady deserve his share of the blame? Well, sure he does. They're 6-7. But if I had to bet my life on one quarterback to win one game for my life with a last-minute drive...

I am still betting on Thomas Edward Patrick Brady Jr., still the best in clutch time. See, this year, the Green Bay game, 3-0-4 left. They're down eight points, starting at their own 11-yard line. He goes 89 yards in 13 plays, cut it to 14-12. But as they start to go for two, the first-year center, Robert Hainsey, fails to snap the ball on time as Brady clapped for it.

The two-point conversion failed and they lost. This year, Rams game. Would you believe Brady conducted two game-winning drives because the first one didn't quite work? 5.43 left in that game. They're down 13-9 from their own 41. He goes 53 yards in 12 plays, but second goal at the 6. He hits little Scottie Miller in the back of the end zone right in the hands, and Scottie failed to hang on. So Brady said, okay, I'll just do it again.

First and 10 at his 40 with 44 seconds left. He goes 60 yards in six plays. It was phenomenal. It was impossibly great. Little one yard touchdown flip to Cade Otten. Won the game 16 to 13 with nine seconds left. This year, Saints, Nemesis, team that plagued him for five straight games. They're down 16 to three are the Bucs. 521 left.

First and 10 at his own nine yard line goes 91 yards and 10 plays. Another one yard touchdown flip to Kate Otten, 16 to 10, 224 left starting at their own 37, 63 yards and 11 plays.

Six yard touchdown pass to the rookie. All these touchdown passes are to rookies. Rashad White, that was third and goal to six with eight seconds left. You remember it. Monday night football, 17 to 16 bucks. Nobody, nobody, nobody ever in the history of this game has been better at leading, conducting, orchestrating, navigating, executing game winning drives.

than Tom Brady. Nobody ever, nobody currently, nobody. So when does that Bucs offense look most potent? Well, when Brady takes over and runs late game, fast break, no huddle, calls his own plays. Brady's offense obviously has struggled mightily with the rival Saints defense for almost five full games. Remember the game last year in December, they lost 9-0 at home.

But when the Bucks finally went no huddle down 16 to 3, Brady just went up and down the field like they were some Houston Texans. Brady gets that psycho Tom look in his eye. His body language completely reverses and changes to urgent, to oozing confidence. And he just becomes unstoppable in the no huddle.

So did we see the no huddle in the first quarter at San Francisco or the second or the third quarter? Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. And I don't get it. Which brings me to my final point from my trusted NFL source who is plugged into the inner workings in Tampa Bay. The source said that the thinking is inside the box that they miss Bruce Arians.

My source said everybody loves and respects Todd Bowles, obviously the new head coach, but that the offense misses Arians' spark and his no-risket, no-biscuit swagger, and that the defense misses Todd Bowles' full-time coordinating and overseeing hands-on it. This was all news to me. I thought Tom Brady wanted Arians kicked upstairs. I thought that was a condition for his return out of retirement.

Well, if he did, according to my source, Tom Brady was flat out wrong. And maybe I was wrong about Arians all along also. It looks like I'm going to be wrong about my preseason prediction, which was that Brady has come out of retirement to win one more Super Bowl unfinished business as he termed it.

Obviously, at 6-7, Brady and company, they're still hanging in in first place in the NFL's worst division, the NFC going south. They do close with division, quote-unquote, rivals, Carolina at home, Atlanta away. And if the Bucs do hang on and win the division, which is no given at this moment, they obviously do get a home playoff game. Right now, that would be against...

my Dallas Cowboys. And I'm being honest with you, that scares me worse than Florida alligators scare me. As I always say, there's one man in sports I do not bet against, that guy, number 12. Don't let him get Tristan Wirfs back. Don't let him get Ryan Jensen back at center. Don't let that defense start getting much healthier from playoff time.

Tom Brady is still highly capable of playing at an extremely high level, especially come playoff time. Tom Brady is not the problem in Tampa Bay. He's the solution.

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and indeed.com slash Bayless. Just go to indeed.com slash Bayless right now and support our show by saying you heard about Indeed on this podcast. Indeed.com slash Bayless. Terms and conditions apply. Need to hire? You need Indeed. To your questions to Joe from New Jersey. Is it awkward whenever you run into athletes you've criticized on Undisputed? Yeah, Joe, it sure can be, but I don't dread it.

I don't run from it. I'm not saying I relish it, but I am definitely not afraid of it. To illustrate, quick story about Blake Griffin. Last spring, Blake joined the golf club that I belong to out here in Los Angeles. I've never met Blake Griffin. When I would see him from a distance, maybe at the driving range or out in the short game area, maybe the putting green, I'd think,

Should I introduce myself? Well, there was risk involved. I have criticized Blake Griffin a lot. Before Blake Griffin was drafted into the NBA, I took a stand back in my days on ESPN that Steph Curry would be better than Blake Griffin, who was the runaway, hands-down choice to be the number one overall pick that year. So here was the irony. I went to high school with Blake's mom.

in Oklahoma City. Well, I didn't exactly go with her. Gail Simmons was two years ahead of me, so she was a senior when I was a sophomore. She was the head cheerleader, maybe six feet tall, redheaded, porcelain skinned, stunning, striking. But I didn't know her, just knew of her obviously, because she was she. Now,

My high school sweetheart at that time, the girl I was quote unquote dating at that time, would become the head cheerleader. But my high school had almost 3,000 kids in it. So at that point, I didn't exactly run in Gail Simmons circles. She went on to marry a legendary high school basketball coach in Oklahoma City. And then her or their second son, Blake, grew, as you know, to be 6 feet 10 inches tall.

a power forward whose spring-loaded legs allowed him to play about seven feet, five inches tall. Yet Blake stayed two years at the school I grew up loving and follow very closely, University of Oklahoma. I watched him very closely, yet because he couldn't make a shot over about two feet from the basket, and because he did develop a reputation in the Big 12,

for shying away from contact. The book on him was if you just roughed him up early in games, he would shrink. By the way, how many superstars in the NBA who came up through the college system, how many stay for two years in college? Well, they just don't. They're one and they're done because they're that good. Blake stayed for two years. So my friend Chris Broussard and I at ESPN began to go at it over Blake Griffin versus Steph Curry.

Blake Griffin, overrated, underrated. We even did a full show on outside the lines over this topic because Blake had become a big national deal. Even Time Magazine did a big story on Blake Griffin arriving. So just because his mom did go to my high school, it obviously did not dent my objectivity. I just thought Steph would be better than Blake.

I got to tell you, I wasn't even that impressed with Blake early on when, as you remember, he jumped over the hood of that Kia and won the NBA's dunk contest. I was impressed that Blake started to teach himself or started to learn to shoot. And he has turned into a surprisingly good three-point shooter. Didn't have a good game the other night.

out here against the Lakers, went 0 for 5. But he's credible. He's serviceable. He's pretty trustable as a three-point shooter at 6 feet 10 inches tall. But I went with Steph over Blake, and I'm pretty sure I was right. Still, the point is that Blake Griffin has had every reason not to like me, and I respect that. So it was that one day last summer, I thought about it and thought about it and

I'm not saying I worked up my courage, but I sort of put up my guard, if you will. And I approached Blake Griffin when he was sitting in his golf cart out on the short game range. And I introduced myself. And predictably, I guess, I got a pretty cool reception from Blake. He didn't seem all that interested that I'm from Oklahoma City, that I did go to Northwest Class in high school where his mom went.

She was two years ahead. I tried to make conversation. It didn't seem to go anywhere. In fact, Blake was so stone-faced that I started to fear he was about to tell me exactly what he thought of me in no uncertain terms, maybe even profanity-laced. I didn't know. Instead, Blake was just pretty much awkwardly unresponsive. And I later wondered if

Was it possible he just didn't know who I am? Not that I expect anybody to know who I am, but the vast majority of athletes do know who I am from TV. But there are some guys, as you know, who just don't pay any attention to sports media or social media. But I'm thinking, Blake has kind of a second career going as a stand-up comic, and I've watched some of the videos, and he's pretty good. He can be sort of deadpan funny.

So I'm thinking, I don't know what happened. I'm just not sure. And finally, awkwardly, I ended up saying to Blake Griffin that, well, I'll see you down the road somewhere and I'll let you get back to practicing. I quickly walked away thinking, oh, well, I tried and I probably got what I deserved. So it was that about a week later, maybe, Blake rolled past me one day in a golf cart and he stunned me by saying, hey, Skip, huh?

I was so caught off guard by that that I couldn't even answer with his name. I just said, "Hey." I saw Blake from a distance just about every time over the summer that I played golf because it seemed like he was out there every single day. And I started thinking, "Man, the guy's only 33 years of age, and it appears that nobody in the NBA any longer wants his services."

So I started thinking, well, no wonder he's become so obsessed with the new game that he's learning, which is golf, because maybe that's all he has right now. So I was very happy for Blake Griffin when the best team in basketball, the Boston Celtics, called. They signed him. And I was even happier that lately he's actually gotten to play big minutes. He's been starting for the Boston Celtics because Al Horvath went into...

COVID protocol and Robert Williams still isn't back from his knee scope. So the same guy who's spending all that time out at the golf course I occasionally play is in the starting lineup for the Boston Celtics now. And I'm thinking life is just so weird. I still have no idea what Blake Griffin actually thinks of me and I really don't care. But next time I see him, I won't hesitate to say, hey, Blake. And next time, who knows?

we might even have a real live conversation. Now I rapid fire through more of your questions. This is Mitch from Brooklyn. What is your hidden talent? That's interesting. I wish it were singing because I wish I could sing and I can't. I can dance a little, just a little. But what I've always been able to do, I would like to think at a very high level,

is speed shift a manual transmission using a clutch attached to a very big engine. I've never had anything in my life but a stick shift in my cars. And I've always had fast cars. The day I picked up my current car, a ZR1 with 755 horsepower, service manager came out in the parking lot as I fired it up. And he says to me,

You're going to drive that with a manual transmission? Like I didn't know it was manual, like maybe it had been a mistake. I said, yeah. And he said to me, good luck. I love driving my ZR1, even in heavy LA traffic where it just wears out your left leg on the clutch. You got to be good at it. You got to stick with it. You got to really know what you are doing with it and respect it.

and trust yourself with it. I did street race a lot when I was in high school. That was with my Camaro SS350 back in the day. Real quick story, I did race one time in a celebrity stock car race. This is back in my first year out of college. I was at the Miami Herald. This was just outside of West Palm Beach, the little dirt track. Nighttime, I roar off. I think it was 10 laps.

I hit the final lap and I'm trying to figure out if anybody's on my tail because I start to lap the slow pokes who weren't pedal to metal. So I'm passing people but not sure when I pass people because I couldn't figure out the rear view mirror who's actually alive in the race in my current lap. So you know me, I plunged, I saw a little opening down below

I wanted to go underneath a couple slow pokes to maintain my lead that I thought I had in the race. And the left tire caught the infield grass and I spun like crazy. I 360'd into the infield grass. I managed to throw it back into first. I managed to get back on the track. When I crossed the finish line, I was told I finished second. Should have finished first. My hidden talent is speed shifting.

Next question, Dan from Los Angeles. I swear I saw your car with a Cowboy Fan license plate. Was that you? Cowboy Fan is all caps C-W-B-Y-F-A-N. Absolutely not, Dan. I am a crazy Cowboy fan, but I do not advertise it when I'm out in the L.A. streets for a lot of crazy other kind of fans out there.

Cowboy fan, them is fighting words. And by the way, I have never understood, I've never grasped, and I've always warned against fans of any team wearing their jerseys to rival stadiums or arenas where alcohol is served. You are asking for it. It is not worth it. Next question. This is Ewan from Fresno. Do you have any New Year's resolutions?

Ewan, I always have one and I never fulfill it. My annual New Year's resolution is I'm going to exercise a little less. That is no exaggeration. I always say this year, just don't go quite as hard in your Saturday and Sunday morning runs. Those are my two big runs of the week. Sunday, the biggest. Just don't go quite as hard. Never fulfill it. I never back off.

So I guess it's what you would call my New Year's unresolution. This is Victor from Chicago asking, the Michael Jordan MVP trophy was your idea, wasn't it? Yep. I take full responsibility. As Reggie Miller said the other night on TNT, MJ's name on that award has now actually enhanced the value of being the MVP. The winner is...

will now feel even more satisfaction, more gratification because the trophy is now named after the obvious GOAT. I'm just glad LeBron James will no longer be able to cheapen this award by winning it. You know, it's gotten astonishing to me that LeBron James

At some point this season, it is going to pass Kareem Abdul-Jabbar to become the all-time leading scorer in the history of the NBA, yet he has failed to close so many games the last two years for the Lakers. Again and again and again, LeBron resorts to labricking three-pointers.

Because he has never trusted himself at the late game, close game, free throw line. I've never seen anything like it before. This guy's going to be the all-time leading scorer. And he's a pretty lousy three-point shooter. Now down to 31.5% for this year. And since he entered the league, he's been by far the worst late game, close game, free throw shooter. Doesn't trust himself. Runs from the late game, free throw line. So there they were the other night.

against the best team in the league, the Boston Celtics. They're up 13 with 3:50 left in the game in LA against Celtics who are playing back-to-back, who had lost badly at Golden State, lost to the Clippers the night before badly by 20. And over the last three minutes and 50 seconds, LeBron James, soon to be the all-time leading scorer, goes 0 for 3 from 3. He shoots no free throws. He just made one out of two with 4:25 left.

And of course, he missed the game winner. Score tied, clock winding down to zero because he pulled up and shot this awkward, ugly three that LeBricked when all he had to do was just drive it, get fouled by maybe Luke Cornett from Vanderbilt University. They don't have a rim protector right now with no Al Horford, no Robert Williams. Blake Griffin was out of the game at that point. And LeBron, once again, ran from the late game free throw line.

Next question. This is Barry from Michigan who asked, "When you say eye test when critiquing a player, what do you mean by that?" I mean forget the stats, forget the prevailing narrative, the popular opinion, and just ask yourself, "What are you really seeing? What are your eyes telling you? What is your instinct telling you?" You have to trust your intuition.

Listen to that voice in the very back of your skull. I call it my God voice. I think you're born with it. You just have to learn to listen to it, to honor it fearlessly. I test. This is Devin from Nashville. If you taught a college class, what subject would it be? Thank you for asking. It would be creative writing.

The best course I ever took when I was at Vanderbilt University was in my senior year, first semester, creative writing taught by the great Dr. Walter Sullivan, a gifted novelist in and of his own right. Dr. Sullivan was hard on me, but he taught me so much. I wrote four short stories for Dr. Sullivan in that semester, and after he tore apart

the fourth and final one, the premise, the conclusion in a written note to me. The last line was, and I quote, "But I stress the writing here is excellent." That one line has fueled me, a public school kid from Oklahoma City, my entire career. Which brings me to my final story, a flashback. Allow me to tell you

About the one and only time in my life. I got drunk with Joe Namath and

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Now, I'm sure most of you know all about Broadway Joe, but for those few who may not, Joe Namath was the first overall pick in the AFL draft, was a two-time AFL MVP, was the purest, prettiest thrower of the football I have ever seen, and he famously guaranteed a Super Bowl III win as a hopeless underdog against the Baltimore Colts.

and then went out in the Orange Bowl and helped pull off one of the greatest upsets in sports history as the New York Jets became the first franchise to actually win some championship credibility from the established National Football League. After that, Joe Namath became Broadway Joe, became possibly the biggest sports star in New York City history. I'm talking bigger than Babe Ruth or Lou Gehrig

Joe DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle, any of the Yankees. I'll throw in, as we get more current, I'll throw in Derek Jeter, bigger than Derek Jeter, because Broadway Joe became such an out-on-the-town media icon, always in the news, in the headlines, in commercials, and occasionally in trouble. Joe even did a pantyhose commercial. So it was, I was just out of college,

newly married, having the time of my life at the LA Times out here in Los Angeles, doing one big story after another, a star on the rise. Problem was, I found myself in a profession in which alcohol was consumed as if it was bottled water. Sports writers drank. They made deadline, they closed bars. Again and again and again, I was invited to quote unquote have a drink,

with my compatriots at the times. Unfortunately, I knew all too much about alcohol. I'd grown up in a double alcoholic household. My dad was what they call a functional drunk. He poured himself a vodka and orange juice when he woke up and he continued imbibing all day long and all night long.

at the little hole-in-the-wall barbecue restaurant or joint he owned and operated on the south side of Oklahoma City at 25th and Southwestern called the Hickory House. My dad was always a little off, a little creepy, a little crazy, but he functioned. My mom, on the other hand, was a fall-down drunk, a get-drunk drunk, a slurred words, sappy, sad drunk of a drunk.

So what was my introduction to hard liquor? Well, I couldn't have been more than three or four, let's say four, in our little two bedroom, one bath house on 43rd Street, where my parents occasionally played host to little sort of five couple parties in which they all got wasted. I was the oldest kid. So occasionally as a party trick, my father would pour me a bourbon and Coke

and everybody would stop what they were doing talking about to watch me take a sip make my little bitter beer face and run and spit out that mouthful of alcohol in the sink seriously it was putrid it was unswallable it was worse than liquid asparagus to me at that time i seriously

thought all these adults were completely out of their minds to be swallowing this evil potion. To this day, I do not understand exactly how humans condition themselves to love the taste of hard liquor. I certainly understand how many humans enjoy how it makes them feel, but the hard truth is, the best thing that ever happened to me was getting to taste hard liquor at age four.

and telling myself I will never ever drink alcohol. When I was 14, a psychiatrist at one of my dad's failed rehab stints asked me if I drank alcohol and I said absolutely not. And she said good because you are doubly genetically predisposed to alcoholism. Yeah. I was a prime candidate, obsessive compulsive driven,

Yet, my crazy, creepy old man might have just unwittingly saved me from his fate at age four. But now at the LA Times at 24, I was facing the dilemma of how to socialize with my fellow writers without ordering alcohol. When I ordered a Coke, I got groans. I could see out of the corner of my eyes, a lot of rolling eyes. I got the feeling that they

They just couldn't trust me if I stayed sober and fully capable of remembering whatever secrets they might tell as they got drunker and drunker, whatever shots they might take at our sports center. So my wife at the time fully appreciated my emotions, which were mixed like the drinks all around me. I'd been with Liz since I was 14, so she full well knew the whole background and scope

of my alcoholic upbringing she'd watched my home wrecked but she did suggest maybe i should try ordering like maybe a glass of wine just taking one sip or maybe a couple little tiny sips of it just as a compromise just for show she occasionally had a glass of wine so i tried red and i tried white and i couldn't stand the taste of either one i settled on red

and for the next i don't know six or so months i ordered one glass of red wine i took one bitter sip and i just hoped that would satisfy or fool the others around me at the table about that time the sports editor asked me if i would cover the triple crown horse races for the la times which meant going to louisville for the kentucky derby and baltimore for the preakness and of course new york for the belmont why me the sports editor knew

that the scholarship I was on at Vanderbilt, the TRA Grantland Rice Scholarship, which was a full scholarship, was sponsored in part by the Thoroughbred Racing Association because the great Grantland Rice syndicated columnist, sports columnist, loved and covered horse racing. So the TRA offered a summer program, if you so chose, to learn about horse racing in case you might want to pursue it after graduation.

So I took them up on it and I had spent a college summer at Belmont and a college summer at Arlington Park in Chicago. And I knew a little something about horse racing. At my first Kentucky Derby, won by Seattle Slough, went on to win the Triple Crown. The great horse racing columnist for the Daily Racing Forum named Joe Hirsch

took me under his wing and taught me so much more that I did not know about horse racing. The great Joe Hirsch, coincidentally, had been Joe Namath's roommate when Joe first came to New York out of the University of Alabama. And Joe had gotten and remained big brother close to Joe Namath. The story was that Sonny Werblin, who owned the Jets at that time,

knew that Joe Namath loved to party and feared that Namath would quickly party his way into oblivion in the Big Apple. And he knew, Sonny Werblin did, that he needed a big brother roommate to steer him clear of the big trouble, the fatal trouble. Werblin knew that Joe Hirsch was the toast of the town. He knew everybody who was anybody in Manhattan. He knew the ins and he knew the potentially dangerous outs.

So, Werblin had entrusted Namath to Hirsch, Joe to Joe. But now in 1977, Namath's career had floundered, had been cut short, really ravaged by knee injuries before there were surgeries that could actually fix ACL tears. Still, L.A. Rams owner at the time, Carol Rosenblum, showman that he was, man about town that he was,

wanted to be able to rub elbows with and ultimately sell Broadway Joe to LA Rams fans. Trust me, knees or no knees, Joe Namath was still the biggest name in the National Football League at this point. And so because of my relationship with Joe Hirsch, I had an in with Joe Namath as Carol Rosenblum acquired him to come west to LA. Quick aside, quick story.

This is way before cell phones, voicemails, no voicemails. So the guy who answered the phones at the LA Times in those days, the sports department would leave notes on our desk to call back so-and-so. My wife and I had just ordered a couch from a department store that used to be big out here in LA called the Broadway. So the note left on my desk was Broadway called on the way. People walking by my desk,

LOST THEIR MINDS, THINKING WE GOT TO FIND SKIP BECAUSE NAMUS ON HIS WAY AND WE GOT THE STORY AND SKIP'S GOT TO WRITE THE STORY, WHICH LED TO AN EMBARRASSING MOMENT THAT ACTUALLY PALES IN COMPARISON TO WHAT I'M ABOUT TO IMPART TO YOU. WHEN JOE NAMUS DID ARRIVE, HE IMMEDIATELY MADE IT CLEAR TO THE MEDIA OUT HERE IN L.A. HE HAD NO USE FOR ANY REPORTERS, LOCAL OR NATIONAL. HE WOULD DO NO INTERVIEWS WHEN NOBODY,

Yet after his first preseason game at the Coliseum, I worked up my courage. I walked up to him as he sat alone in front of his locker and I introduced myself. And he lit right up like I was a long lost relative. And he said, "Oh, you're Joe's guy." Me and Joe Hirsch. "It's great to finally meet you. Let me know what I can do for you, man." Joe Namath said that to me. Joe Namath gave me several exclusive interviews that season.

really helped me. He was great to me. But the sad truth was he was not great on the football field. He started four early games that season.

He threw for 141, then 136, then 126, and in his final game, it was a Monday night game at Chicago. He threw for 203, but that was on 16 of 40 passes with no touchdowns and four interceptions, and the Rams lost 24 to 23. Do the math. That was the last game Joe Namath ever played.

for the rams that season ended with a 14-7 home playoff loss to the vikings it was a mud bowl of a game rare rain out here in southern california the ram's quarterback that day was pat hayden the former usc golden boy who had about half of joe namus arm but the next day i was assigned to do a ram's wrap-up story for the times so i drove all the way down to their facility down in long beach

maybe an hour south of where I lived. I wandered into a mostly empty locker room and there was Joe Namath with a duffel bag clearing out his locker. And I walked up and said, "You aren't leaving us, are you?" He said, "Yep, I'm done." I said, "Done as in retired?" I mean, that would be news. "Yep," he said. So, of course, I asked if I could ask him just a few questions and he said, "Well, sure."

but said he had to run an errand and asked me to meet him at a local bar there in Long Beach in about an hour. Upscale bar, what we used to call a fern bar, if you will. So I frantically called my sports editor at the Times, put him on alert. He said, "I'll call you right back." He did, told me that the decks had been cleared.

on A1. I'm talking about the front page of the LA Times, not the front of the sports, the front page of the LA Times, which in those days had the biggest circulation in the country. I mean, for me to have Joe Namath retiring scoop, that's put it in bold headlines, headlines. That was going to lead the paper the next day. So all of a sudden,

for me to make a 5:00 deadline, I would have to interview him on the fly at the Fern bar. I would have to scribble out the story in longhand, and then I would have to actually dictate it from a payphone, probably there in the bar, to make a 5:00 deadline because

The odds of trying to drive from Long Beach all the way back up to downtown Los Angeles to go type the story in the sports department of the LA Times would take, I don't know, at that hour, an hour and a half maybe if I was lucky. Nope, I was going to have to do it the hard way. And that way got a little harder when I walked into the fern bar and noticed that Joe Namath was already surrounded by maybe a dozen friends.

at three or four tables that had been pushed together out in the middle of the bar. What? I mean, I thought this was one-on-one, and now it's one-on-a-dozen. But Joe had saved a seat for me right next to him. Appreciated that. Yet now he's going to have to try interviewing Namath at his, what had come clear was his retirement party, as he interacted across the table with his guests, and the booze was flowing.

This was obviously not ideal. This was very scary because I'm thinking my career might hinge on me able to follow through with the story that I had promised that they were holding A1 for. Waitress popped over, asked me what I was drinking, and I, without even thinking, said red wine. So she quickly plunked down, full glass beside me, red wine, and I began to try to interview Joe Namath.

as I nervously sipped my red wine. Deadline clock was ticking and I was struggling to keep Joe's mind on what I was asking, to keep him on point with his answers as he exchanged banner back and forth across the table. I could blame him for that, but stay with me, Joe. Stay with me. Namath had already had a couple of drinks.

And as you might guess, the cautionary irony here was that about 25 years after this moment, he would be forced to face and to conquer his alcoholism after trying to kiss ESPN's Susie Culber during a live national TV interview. But on this night, I didn't even notice, I had sipped my glass of red wine to the bottom and boom, the waitress plunked down another full glass.

I sipped and scribbled, I sipped and scribbled as Joe intermittently answered my questions. Clock ticked. After maybe half hour of trying and often failing to extract little bits and pieces of quotes, I finally thanked Joe Namath and told him I had to run. By this point, I had sipped my second glass of red wine nearly to the bottom. I pushed back my chair.

And I stood to shake hands with Joe Namath and to wish him well. And as God is my witness, I felt myself falling straight backward into the poor man sitting behind me who actually helped break my fall. But even as I tried to grab onto this poor fellow,

I could not keep from f-f-f-f-falling, falling, falling, I'm falling. I could feel myself going down, down, down, fortunately to the carpeted floor. I wound up on my back, looking up into the face of Broadway Joe. Now, if you might remember, he grew up in Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania, but while playing at Alabama for Bear Bryant,

Joe had somehow acquired a southern accent. So Joe Willie Namath peered into my eyes and said to me, son, you're drunk. What? Me? Drunk? It's impossible. So I tried to stand up and I realized my legs were rubber, dangerously wobbly. Joe grabbed my right arm and held on and said, you cannot drive right now.

I was drunk. I had no tolerance for alcohol because I barely had more than a sip. Two glasses of red wine had done to me what I'd so often seen vodka and bourbon do to my parents. Joe helped me all the way to the payphone near the bar's entrance. No cell phone. And I thanked him, maybe overly profusely, maybe I gushed, and he returned to his party.

Now I had to make one of the most difficult phone calls of my life to my sports editor, Bill Shirley, who had become like a father to me. Bill was straight-laced, arch-conservative, from Little Rock, Arkansas, and he was under the distinct impression I did not drink at all. And, of course, he was eagerly awaiting my front-page exclusive bombshell story on Joe Namath's retirement.

Fortunately, my speech was not slurred, at least I don't think it was, but I did heave a sigh and I said, "Bill, you're not going to believe this, but I'm drunk." And I quickly told him the story of how it happened. There was a long pause on the other end of the line. And finally, Bill Shirley said to me, "How confident are you that nobody else has this story?"

Our extremely competitive and aggressive competition in those days was the LA Herald Examiner. They did a great job, and I did fear them as much as respect them. Yet I said to Bill Shirley, I'm 99.9% sure I'm the only one who has the story. And Bill told me to go find some coffee, which I didn't drink, and try to walk it off for a couple of hours, then to drive home after rush hour,

to be in the office the next morning at 9 a.m. sharp to write the story that we wouldn't have to rush with for the following day's newspaper. And that's exactly what I did. In fact, I ended up walking across the street from the firm bar to a mall. I did loops around the mall. I hated coffee. I hate the taste of coffee even worse than alcohol. So I just drank Coke for the caffeine in Coke to sober me up.

The story did wind up running across the top of the front page, but it was only of the front page the following day of the sports section, but that was fine with me, not the front page of the newspaper. But nobody else beat me to my big exclusive. I had it. Bill Shirley was extremely pleased with it and never, ever asked me another word about being drunk. But since that night that I did get drunk with Broadway Joe,

Not one drop of alcohol has passed my lips. Not one drop. No more red wine. No nothing. Not one drop. Who knows? Maybe that night saved me from my double genetic predisposition to alcoholism. Thank you, Broadway Joe. I will never ever forget your immortal line to me, "Son, you're drunk."

That's it for episode 44. Thank you for listening and or watching. Thanks to Jonathan Berger and his All Pro team for making this show go. Thanks to Tyler Korn for producing. Remember, Undisputed every weekday, 9.30 to noon Eastern. The Skip Bayless Show.