Buffalo Bills 1984 and 1985

Between O.J. Simpson and Jim Kelly, the Buffalo Bills had some lean years. They finished 2-14 in both of the above years. The 84 win was against the Dallas Cowboys and the 85 win over the Houston Oilers was a shut out. With regard to Dallas, I say an enemy of my enemy is my friend. Shut Outs are always big. Both of the wins were at home.

1984-Buffalo was 0-11 when the Dallas Cowboys came to town. Greg Bell for Buffalo carried 27 times for 206 yards with an 85 yard run for a touchdown. He also caught two passes for 12 yards with one touchdown. The Bills recorded three sacks and two pass interceptions. Buffalo 14 Dallas 3. Dallas missed the playoffs with a 9-7 record.

1985-The Houston Oilers had eight sacks which prevented the game from being a real route. As it was the win for Buffalo was easy with a 20 to 0 score. The Houston Oilers gained only 142 yards and had only seven first downs. Greg Bell and Andre Reed stood out for the Bills. Houston finished at 5-11.


Most Depressing Evening-Sunday

There is a divide between Sundays and Wednesday as the days when suicides occur moist. For me, it is a no brainer with Sunday being the day. Many people spend the entire Sunday in fear of the week ahead. Friday night and Saturdays are the best times of the week. Sunday means early to bed with the entire week ahead. On Sundays, my mind often was on work even though I was watching the Eagles.

So it is with Pro Football since I retired in 2002. In my lifetime of watching the Eagles, 55 years, I have seen many happy and unfortunate endings to games. None matched the thrill of the 2004 NFC Championship Game, 27 to 10 over Atlanta. None matched the disappointment of the 2008 Championship Game, 33 to 25, with the Arizona Cardinals. Work should never interfere with leisure.

Buffalo Bills in 1968-O.J. Simpson

The Philadelphia Eagles record in 1968 was 2-12, one half game better than the 1-12-1 Bills. Buffalo’s only victory was a 37 to 35 thriller over the New York Jets at home. The Jets would become the Super Bowl champions. NY’s record in 1968 was 11-3. Defeating the Jets was a big accomplishment.

Joe Namath threw four touchdown passes. Between Don Maynard and George Sauer there were 10 catchers for 227 yards and two touchdowns. Matt Snell carried 12 times for 124 yards. The Jets outgained the Bills in total yardage 427 to 197.

But Namath threw a four interceptions and that was the difference. The plays were:

Butch Byrd intercepted two passes for 53 yards and one touchdown;
Booker Edgerson intercepted one pass for 45 yards and a touchdown;
Tom Janik intercepted a pass for 137 yards and a touchdown.

Charles Dickens in Philadelphia

There was a sailor who had been there upwards of eleven years, and who in a few months’ time would be free. Eleven years of solitary confinement!

‘I am very glad to hear your time is nearly out.’ What does he say? Nothing. Why does he stare at his hands, and pick the flesh upon his fingers, and raise his eyes for an instant, every now and then, to those bare walls which have seen his head turn grey? It is a way he has sometimes. Does he never look men in the face, and does he always pluck at those hands of his, as though he were bent on parting skin and bone? It is his humor: nothing more.

It is his humor too, to say that he does not look forward to going out; that he is not glad the time is drawing near; that he did look forward to it once, but that was very long ago; that he has lost all care for everything. It is his humor to be a helpless, crushed, and broken man. And, Heaven be his witness that he has his humor thoroughly gratified!


There were three young women in adjoining cells, all convicted at the same time of a conspiracy to rob their prosecutor. In the silence and solitude of their lives they had grown to be quite beautiful. Their looks were very sad, and might have moved the sternest visitor to tears, but not to that kind of sorrow which the contemplation of the men awakens. One was a young girl; not twenty, as I recollect; whose snow-white room was hung with the work of some former prisoner, and upon whose downcast face the sun in all its splendor shone down through the high chink in the wall, where one narrow strip of bright blue sky was visible. She was very penitent and quiet; had come to be resigned, she said (and I believe her); and had a mind at peace. ‘In a word, you are happy here?’ said one of my companions. She struggled — she did struggle very hard — to answer, Yes; but raising her eyes, and meeting that glimpse of freedom overhead, she burst into tears, and said, ‘She tried to be; she uttered no complaint; but it was natural that she should sometimes long to go out of that one cell: she could not help that,’ she sobbed, poor thing!


I went from cell to cell that day; and every face I saw, or word I heard, or incident I noted, is present to my mind in all its painfulness. But let me pass them by, for one, more pleasant, glance of a prison on the same plan which I afterwards saw at Pittsburgh.

When I had gone over that, in the same manner, I asked the governor if he had any person in his charge who was shortly going out. He had one, he said, whose time was up next day; but he had only been a prisoner two years.

Two years! I looked back through two years of my own life — out of jail, prosperous, happy, surrounded by blessings, comforts, good fortune — and thought how wide a gap it was, and how long those two years passed in solitary captivity would have been. I have the face of this man, who was going to be released next day, before me now. It is almost more memorable in its happiness than the other faces in their misery. How easy and how natural it was for him to say that the system was a good one; and that the time went ‘pretty quick — considering;’ and that when a man once felt that he had offended the law, and must satisfy it, ‘he got along, somehow:’ and so forth!


‘What did he call you back to say to you, in that strange flutter?’ I asked of my conductor, when he had locked the door and joined me in the passage.‘Oh! That he was afraid the soles of his boots were not fit for walking, as they were a good deal worn when he came in; and that he would thank me very much to have them mended, ready.’

Those boots had been taken off his feet, and put away with the rest of his clothes, two years before!I took that opportunity of inquiring how they conducted themselves immediately before going out; adding that I presumed they trembled very much. ‘Well, it’s not so much a trembling,’ was the answer — ‘though they do quiver — as a complete derangement of the nervous system. They can’t sign their names to the book; sometimes can’t even hold the pen; look about ‘em without appearing to know why, or where they are; and sometimes get up and sit down again, twenty times in a minute. This is when they’re in the office, where they are taken with the hood on, as they were brought in. When they get outside the gate, they stop, and look first one way and then the other; not knowing which to take. Sometimes they stagger as if they were drunk, and sometimes are forced to lean against the fence, they’re so bad:- but they clear off in course of time.’


As I walked among these solitary cells, and looked at the faces of the men within them, I tried to picture to myself the thoughts and feelings natural to their condition. I imagined the hood just taken off, and the scene of their captivity disclosed to them in all its dismal monotony. At first, the man is stunned. His confinement is a hideous vision; and his old life a reality. He throws himself upon his bed, and lies there abandoned to despair. By degrees the insupportable solitude and barrenness of the place rouses him from this stupor, and when the trap in his grated door is opened, he humbly begs and prays for work. ‘Give me some work to do, or I shall go raving mad!’


He has it; and by fits and starts applies himself to labor; but every now and then there comes upon him a burning sense of the years that must be wasted in that stone coffin, and an agony so piercing in the recollection of those who are hidden from his view and knowledge, that he starts from his seat, and striding up and down the narrow room with both hands clasped on his uplifted head, hears spirits tempting him to beat his brains out on the wall.


Again he falls upon his bed, and lies there, moaning. Suddenly he starts up, wondering whether any other man is near; whether there is another cell like that on either side of him: and listens keenly.There is no sound, but other prisoners may be near for all that. He remembers to have heard once, when he little thought of coming here himself, that the cells were so constructed that the prisoners could not hear each other, though the officers could hear them.


Where is the nearest man — upon the right, or on the left? or is there one in both directions? Where is he sitting now — with his face to the light? or is he walking to and fro? How is he dressed? Has he been here long? Is he much worn away? Is he very white and spectre-like? Does he think of his neighbor too?

Scarcely venturing to breathe, and listening while he thinks, he conjures up a figure with his back towards him, and imagines it moving about in this next cell. He has no idea of the face, but he is certain of the dark form of a stooping man. In the cell upon the other side, he puts another figure, whose face is hidden from him also. Day after day, and often when he wakes up in the middle of the night, he thinks of these two men until he is almost distracted. He never changes them. There they are always as he first imagined them — an old man on the right; a younger man upon the left — whose hidden features torture him to death, and have a mystery that makes him tremble.


The weary days pass on with solemn pace, like mourners at a funeral; and slowly he begins to feel that the white walls of the cell have something dreadful in them: that their color is horrible: that their smooth surface chills his blood: that there is one hateful corner which torments him. Every morning when he wakes, he hides his head beneath the coverlet, and shudders to see the ghastly ceiling looking down upon him. The blessed light of day itself peeps in, an ugly phantom face, through the unchangeable crevice which is his prison window.

By slow but sure degrees, the terrors of that hateful corner swell until they beset him at all times; invade his rest, make his dreams hideous, and his nights dreadful. At first, he took a strange dislike to it; feeling as though it gave birth in his brain to something of corresponding shape, which ought not to be there, and racked his head with pains. Then he began to fear it, then to dream of it, and of men whispering its name and pointing to it. Then he could not bear to look at it, nor yet to turn his back upon it. Now, it is every night the lurking-place of a ghost: a shadow:- a silent something, horrible to see, but whether bird, or beast, or muffled human shape, he cannot tell.

When he is in his cell by day, he fears the little yard without. When he is in the yard, he dreads to re-enter the cell. When night comes, there stands the phantom in the corner. If he have the courage to stand in its place, and drive it out (he had once: being desperate), it broods upon his bed. In the twilight, and always at the same hour, a voice calls to him by name; as the darkness thickens, his Loom begins to live; and even that, his comfort, is a hideous figure, watching him till daybreak.

Again, by slow degrees, these horrible fancies depart from him one by one: returning sometimes, unexpectedly, but at longer intervals, and in less alarming shapes. He has talked upon religious matters with the gentleman who visits him, and has read his Bible, and has written a prayer upon his slate, and hung it up as a kind of protection, and an assurance of Heavenly companionship. He dreams now, sometimes, of his children or his wife, but is sure that they are dead, or have deserted him. He is easily moved to tears; is gentle, submissive, and broken-spirited. Occasionally, the old agony comes back: a very little thing will revive it; even a familiar sound, or the scent of summer flowers in the air; but it does not last long, now: for the world without, has come to be the vision, and this solitary life, the sad reality.

If his term of imprisonment be short — I mean comparatively, for short it cannot be — the last half year is almost worse than all; for then he thinks the prison will take fire and he be burnt in the ruins, or that he is doomed to die within the walls, or that he will be detained on some false charge and sentenced for another term: or that something, no matter what, must happen to prevent his going at large. And this is natural, and impossible to be reasoned against, because, after his long separation from human life, and his great suffering, any event will appear to him more probable in the contemplation, than the being restored to liberty and his fellow-creatures.

If his period of confinement have been very long, the prospect of release bewilders and confuses him. His broken heart may flutter for a moment, when he thinks of the world outside, and what it might have been to him in all those lonely years, but that is all. The cell-door has been closed too long on all its hopes and cares. Better to have hanged him in the beginning than bring him to this pass, and send him forth to mingle with his kind, who are his kind no more.

On the haggard face of every man among these prisoners, the same expression sat. I know not what to liken it to. It had something of that strained attention which we see upon the faces of the blind and deaf, mingled with a kind of horror, as though they had all been secretly terrified. In every little chamber that I entered, and at every grate through which I looked, I seemed to see the same appalling countenance. It lives in my memory, with the fascination of a remarkable picture. Parade before my eyes, a hundred men, with one among them newly released from this solitary suffering, and I would point him out.

The faces of the women, as I have said, it humanises and refines. Whether this be because of their better nature, which is elicited in solitude, or because of their being gentler creatures, of greater patience and longer suffering, I do not know; but so it is. That the punishment is nevertheless, to my thinking, fully as cruel and as wrong in their case, as in that of the men, I need scarcely add.

My firm conviction is that, independent of the mental anguish it occasions — an anguish so acute and so tremendous, that all imagination of it must fall far short of the reality — it wears the mind into a morbid state, which renders it unfit for the rough contact and busy action of the world. It is my fixed opinion that those who have undergone this punishment, MUST pass into society again morally unhealthy and diseased. There are many instances on record, of men who have chosen, or have been condemned, to lives of perfect solitude, but I scarcely remember one, even among sages of strong and vigorous intellect, where its effect has not become apparent, in some disordered train of thought, or some gloomy hallucination. What monstrous phantoms, bred of despondency and doubt, and born and reared in solitude, have stalked upon the earth, making creation ugly, and darkening the face of Heaven!

Suicides are rare among these prisoners: are almost, indeed, unknown. But no argument in favour of the system, can reasonably be deduced from this circumstance, although it is very often urged. All men who have made diseases of the mind their study, know perfectly well that such extreme depression and despair as will change the whole character, and beat down all its powers of elasticity and self-resistance, may be at work within a man, and yet stop short of self-destruction. This is a common case.

That it makes the senses dull, and by degrees impairs the bodily faculties, I am quite sure. I remarked to those who were with me in this very establishment at Philadelphia, that the criminals who had been there long, were deaf. They, who were in the habit of seeing these men constantly, were perfectly amazed at the idea, which they regarded as groundless and fanciful. And yet the very first prisoner to whom they appealed — one of their own selection confirmed my impression (which was unknown to him) instantly, and said, with a genuine air it was impossible to doubt, that he couldn’t think how it happened, but he was growing very dull of hearing.

That it is a singularly unequal punishment, and affects the worst man least, there is no doubt. In its superior efficiency as a means of reformation, compared with that other code of regulations which allows the prisoners to work in company without communicating together, I have not the smallest faith. All the instances of reformation that were mentioned to me, were of a kind that might have been — and I have no doubt whatever, in my own mind, would have been — equally well brought about by the Silent System. With regard to such men as the negro burglar and the English thief, even the most enthusiastic have scarcely any hope of their conversion.

It seems to me that the objection that nothing wholesome or good has ever had its growth in such unnatural solitude, and that even a dog or any of the more intelligent among beasts, would pine, and mope, and rust away, beneath its influence, would be in itself a sufficient argument against this system. But when we recollect, in addition, how very cruel and severe it is, and that a solitary life is always liable to peculiar and distinct objections of a most deplorable nature, which have arisen here, and call to mind, moreover, that the choice is not between this system, and a bad or ill-considered one, but between it and another which has worked well, and is, in its whole design and practice, excellent; there is surely more than sufficient reason for abandoning a mode of punishment attended by so little hope or promise, and fraught, beyond dispute, with such a host of evils.

As a relief to its contemplation, I will close this chapter with a curious story arising out of the same theme, which was related to me, on the occasion of this visit, by some of the gentlemen concerned.

At one of the periodical meetings of the inspectors of this prison, a working man of Philadelphia presented himself before the Board, and earnestly requested to be placed in solitary confinement. On being asked what motive could possibly prompt him to make this strange demand, he answered that he had an irresistible propensity to get drunk; that he was constantly indulging it, to his great misery and ruin; that he had no power of resistance; that he wished to be put beyond the reach of temptation; and that he could think of no better way than this. It was pointed out to him, in reply, that the prison was for criminals who had been tried and sentenced by the law, and could not be made available for any such fanciful purposes; he was exhorted to abstain from intoxicating drinks, as he surely might if he would; and received other very good advice, with which he retired, exceedingly dissatisfied with the result of his application.

He came again, and again, and again, and was so very earnest and importunate, that at last they took counsel together, and said, ‘He will certainly qualify himself for admission, if we reject him any more. Let us shut him up. He will soon be glad to go away, and then we shall get rid of him.’ So they made him sign a statement which would prevent his ever sustaining an action for false imprisonment, to the effect that his incarceration was voluntary, and of his own seeking; they requested him to take notice that the officer in attendance had orders to release him at any hour of the day or night, when he might knock upon his door for that purpose; but desired him to understand, that once going out, he would not be admitted any more. These conditions agreed upon, and he still remaining in the same mind, he was conducted to the prison, and shut up in one of the cells.

In this cell, the man, who had not the firmness to leave a glass of liquor standing untasted on a table before him — in this cell, in solitary confinement, and working every day at his trade of shoemaking, this man remained nearly two years. His health beginning to fail at the expiration of that time, the surgeon recommended that he should work occasionally in the garden; and as he liked the notion very much, he went about this new occupation with great cheerfulness.

He was digging here, one summer day, very industriously, when the wicket in the outer gate chanced to be left open: showing, beyond, the well-remembered dusty road and sunburnt fields. The way was as free to him as to any man living, but he no sooner raised his head and caught sight of it, all shining in the light, than, with the involuntary instinct of a prisoner, he cast away his spade, scampered off as fast as his legs would carry him, and never once looked back.

Literature Network » Charles Dickens » American No

Alpo Please

The Philadelphia Eagles had lost their first two games to the New York Giants and the Chicago Bears. Both were mediocre teams. At home for both games, the Washington Redskins had wins of 41 to 3 over the New Orleans Saints and 49 to 13 over the New York Giants. Odds Makers said Washington was 17 points better. Eagles Coach Mike McCormick promised his team would go by bus to Miami for the next game if things did not improve. In addition, McCormick said his players were like dogs on the field. Things did get better for one game.

First Half

Philadelphia dominated this game but trailed 10 to 9 at half time. From his 35, Roman Gabriel passed to Harold Carmichael 61 yards for a touchdown. With the missed extra point, the score was now Redskins 10 Eagles 9. Back came another Eagle drive to the Redskin three. Then: Tom Sullivan, all alone in the End Zone, dropped a pass. This bullet was right between his numbers and the Eagles settled for a Field Goal. Eagles 9 Redskins 3. The Eagles kept coming with another drive ending at the Redskins 3. Then a Gabriel pass got defections; Dennis Johnson intercepted and ran 80 yards. Billy Kilmer passed to Alvin Reed for a touchdown. The Redskins led 10 to 9 at halftime.

At this point, I figured the Eagles were sure losers. The score should have been 20 to 3 Eagles

Second Half

In spite of the adversity, the Eagles took the second half kickoff and drove for a touchdown. Roman Gabriel passed 36 yards to Charlie Smith for the score. Before the Redskins got the ball, they were trailing 16 to 10. Bill Bradley made two interceptions in the second half for 39 yards in returns. Roman Gabriel capped a drive by a one yard rush for another touchdown. Horace Mulhman kicked a second field. Eagles 26 Redskins 10. The Eagles gained 393 yards to just 193 for the Washington. Tom Sullivan, despite the drop, gained 95 yards in 23 carries.

No doubt the ultimatum from Mike McCormick spurred this win. Washington may have realized at the half that they underestimated the Eagles. In these cases, it takes a while to change your attitude. This was the first Philadelphia win over Washington since 1967. For one game, the Eagles looked fantastic. Pure emotion generally lasts one game. After this game the Philadelphia Eagles lost five in a row.

New Orleans Saints-1980

Archie Manning should have been in the Hall of Fame. Here was a great Quarter Back who played most of his years with the New Orleans Saints; fans often called them the Aints. Most of his career he played coming from behind. I am not a fan of the Denver Broncos, Indianapolis Colts, or the New York Giants. Nevertheless, Eli and Payton Manning’s have what Archie never had; the chance of playing on a good football team. Let’s look beyond the won andloss to show a meaingful statistic. Times Sacked

1971 40
1972 43
1975 49

I have no doubt that Dad Manning is feeing the pain here.

In 1980, the Saints had only one victory. This was a 21 to 20 effort at New York vs. the Jets. NY was leading 13 to 7 after three periods. Tony Galbreath capped two drives with two short runs for two touchdowns. Archie Manning completed 20 of 38 passes for 198 yards and two touchdowns.

For the Jets, Tom Newton carried 23 times for 117 yards. Final Saints 21 Jets 20.

Pittsburgh Steelers in 1970-Improved

In Chuck Noll’s second season as Head Coach, the team improved by four games, going 5-9. It was a streaky season with inconsistency.

Phase 1. Pittsburgh lost its first three games.

Phase 2. Pittsburgh won four out of five. They actually were even at .500 after eight games. The biggest win was at Three Rivers Stadium on a Monday Night 21 to 10 over the Cincinnati Bengals. A Veteran Steeler showed he still had some life. A rookie Steeler had one game in the limelight for his entire career.

The Steelers were trailing 7 to 0 late in the first half. Halfback Dick Hoak, on a pass option play, threw a 27 yard touchdown pass to Dennis Hughes. Hoak was in his tenth and final year as a Steeler player. This tied the score at 7 at halftime. In the third period, the Bengals kicked a field goal for a 10 to 7 lead after three periods.

Going into the fourth quarter, Terry Hanratty replaced Terry Bradshaw at quarterback. Harraty threw a 72 yard touchdown pass again to Dennis Hughes. Pittsburgh then put on a ball control drive. Warren Bankston ran three yards for a touchdown. A ten year veteran, Dick Hoak, and a one game player, Dennis Hughes, had the headlines here. Pittsburgh 21 Cincinnati 10

Phase 3. Piitsburgh lost five of the last six games to finish 5-9.

The only win in the last six games was a against the Cleveland Browns. This was the first win over the Browns in four years. On defense, the Steelers really stopped Cleveland limited them to 20 yards rushing, 150 yards in total, and just three goals.

For Pittsburgh:

Terry Hanratty ended a drive with an 81 yard touchdown pass to Ron Shankin;
Chuck Beatty returned an interception 30 yards for a touchdown;
Terry Bradshaw threw two touchdown passes-the first an 81 yard throw to Shanklin and the second an 57 yards throw to Frenchy Fuqua.

The Cinnciinai Bengals won the Eastern Division title with an 8-6 record.