Site hosted by Angelfire.com: Build your free website today!
Tiny Griese

It Isn't Easy Being Griese

Originally from the
Rocky Mountain News
Clay Latimer,
Columnist

October 25, 2002

 

Aloof or shy?

Why would a player as smart and articulate as Griese, a quarterback who has known the inside of NFL locker rooms and press boxes since he was a boy, say and do so many things that hurt his own cause, as well as his team's?

Griese's critics say he's simply an ineffective leader, incapable of changing his ways.

"There's very few people at this point in their life, when they've lived 20-something years, do they really change? It usually doesn't happen that much," former Broncos linebacker Bill Romanowski, now with the Oakland Raiders, said recently.

But those who have known him the longest say Griese's aloofness is actually shyness, the icy flippancy is often dry humor, and the off-field problems overblown.

Moreover, they claim Griese remains a work-in-progress, a fifth-year player whose ability to ride out storms and match the moment is a matter of record, thanks to a defiant willfulness and cutthroat competitiveness that goes to his marrow.

"He's got mental toughness," said his father, Bob Griese, who led the Miami Dolphins to a perfect 17-0 record in 1972, with successive Super Bowl titles in '72 and '73.

"Everyone expects more these days. We've got cell phones, computers, the Internet. We want instant access. We want instant success. And it doesn't work that way.

"Look around the league and see now many quarterbacks there are with more than two or three years experience. There aren't many."

Brian's chillin'

Bob at Purdue

Brian's father, Bob, at Purdue in 1967--the year he led his team to a Rose Bowl victory over USC, 14-7

Brian's dad at work one day

Bob Griese with Miami: "Our goal was nothing less than perfection."

Like father . . .

Brian Griese inherited the good life from his father, who was inducted into the Hall of Fame in 1990 after passing for 25,092 yards and 192 TDs in 14 seasons with the Dolphins.

Brian grew up in a posh home in Coral Gables, Florida., learned to play golf and tennis at nearby Riviera Country Club, docked the family boat at Coconut Grove, and vacationed on Marco Island off the Florida coast.

But the easy life was too easy for Brian, a natural-born grinder. From the start he funneled his ambitious energy into school and sports, developing an eerie resemblance to his father on a football field, from playing style to subtle mannerisms.

But the similarities only start there.

On the eve of Bob Griese's induction into the Hall, former Dolphins tight end Larry Seiple - whose locker adjoined Griese's - could recall few conversations with Miami's reclusive, bespectacled quarterback.

"If we spoke more than 15 words a day, it was a surprise," he said. "I don't think Bob was close to anybody. He tried to stay as aloof as possible."

The elder Griese rarely went out with teammates after practice, even for a beer; instead, he hurried home to be with his wife, Judith Ann, and three young sons.

Meticulously preparing for each game - a trait Brian inherited - Bob worked up a spreadsheet on each opponent, watched game film three nights a week in the den, and had his wife quiz him to make sure he had memorized all the plays. Before his third Super Bowl appearance, Griese was so confident of his game plan that he fell asleep on the bus on the way to the game.

But Griese's carefully planned life was upended when Judith Ann was diagnosed with cancer. Brian was 7; she died when he was 12. Bob instinctively knew how his son felt; when he was 10, a heart attack killed his father.

As mourning neighbors and relatives gathered at the Griese home in Evansville, Indiana, someone noticed that 10-year-old Bob was missing. A search of the neighborhood was underway when someone finally heard a thumping sound from Bob's room. His mother found Bob sitting on a cedar chest, banging his heels against the wood. Overnight, Bob said years later, he was transformed from a normal child to a boy without a dad, and that the dull ache he felt never completely faded away.

"Bob has always been a quiet person," his mother, Ida, recalled several years ago. "He's always been kind of to himself; he likes to be left alone. And I think it probably goes back to the day he lost his dad."

CONTINUE

HOF Bob Griese

Bob Griese was inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 1990.