Sid Gillman. Josh Katzowitz
wanted for his 1963 season. If this was going to be the season his team won it all, Rote was the quarterback that would be in charge. And Rote rewarded Gillman. He would end the season throwing for 2,510 yards, meaning that Rote, during his career, led the NFL and the CFL in passing and, in his final year as a full-time starter, finished third in the AFL.
Probably first in beer consumption, though.
The Chargers—led by the passing of Rote, the running of Paul Lowe and Lincoln (1,836 yards and 13 touchdowns combined), and the receiving of Lance Alworth (61 catches, 1,205 yards, and 11 touchdowns)—were, suffice it to say, a very good team that season. They were unquestionably the best in the AFL and perhaps the best in the NFL as well (there’s little question they also were tops in the CFL). They were the AFL’s No. 1 in points scored, offensive yards, yards per pass, rushing yards, first downs, touchdowns, defensive scoring, and rushing defense. Sid Gillman’s forte was the pass offense, but that year, his team finished third in that category in the eight-team league, slightly better than average.
But San Diego’s run game was spectacular, and the defense, with Earl Faison (four-time All-Pro) and Ernie Ladd (three-time All-Pro and future World Wrestling Entertainment Hall of Famer) as half of the Fearsome Foursome, was fantastic.
Entering the final regular-season game of the year, San Diego was 10-3 but needed one final victory against the atrocious Broncos—who went 2-11-1 but somehow crushed the Chargers earlier in the year—to win the AFL West and qualify for the title game. Denver’s coach, Jack Faulkner, had known Gillman for 25 years. Faulkner had played for Gillman at Miami (Ohio) in the late 1940s and then had been Gillman’s assistant coach at the University of Cincinnati before moving west with Gillman to the L.A. Rams and south to the Chargers.
He finally had landed his first head coaching job the season before, and after beating the Chargers twice in 1962, he metaphorically slapped Gillman in the face during the fourth game of 1963, calling timeouts in the final minutes to try to score just once more in the 50–34 Denver win. Gillman and his team hadn’t forgotten those slights.
San Diego, after taking a 23–17 lead early in the third quarter of the final game of the year, showed no mercy to remind Denver of its early-season decision. And to insult the Broncos once and for all, San Diego, after scoring again with only seconds left in the game, attempted a two-point conversion, got it thanks to a touchdown catch by Faison, the defensive end, and then attempted an onside kick. It wasn’t a slap in the face. Gillman had metaphorically punched Faulkner in the gut and then slugged him in the jaw.
“How many points did you want to score, Sid?” a furious Faulkner asked as the two met on the field for a post-game handshake. Silence from Gillman. “Sid, how many points did you want to score?” Faulkner asked again. Gillman walked away without a word, his revenge complete.
Added Faulkner, “Thanks a lot, Sid, you son of a bitch.”
Afterward, Faulkner was still too stunned to answer questions from the press. So, he asked questions instead. “How many points did he want to score, anyway?” He never got his answer. But the Chargers weren’t done scoring points yet. Not by a long shot.
In the championship game, the Chargers would face the Boston Patriots, who had performed only slightly better than average in winning the AFL East. Still they would be tough opponents, because the key to the Patriots’ good fortune was a defense that blitzed more than anybody else in the league. The two teams had played twice during the regular season—the Chargers had won 17–13 and 7–6 while being held to 108 rushing yards combined—but San Diego still hadn’t quite figured out Boston’s blitz packages. In reality, nobody in the league had determined how to shut down a defense that, as Gillman said, could stop water.
“Hell, we blitzed a lot because we could get away with it,” said Boston defensive line coach Marion Campbell. “We blitzed our way to the championship game.”
Gillman had to come up with a plan to stop the Patriots from constantly chasing and sacking the middle-aged Rote, who, to make matters worse, was suffering from bursitis and who nearly needed to take a Novocain shot before the game just to get out there and play.
The Chargers, though, had a couple of advantages. The Patriots had to beat the Bills in an extra playoff game in order to qualify for the championship contest, but that additional 60 minutes wasn’t the real problem for Boston. The real problem came in the following days when, after the team flew to San Diego to prepare for the title game, the Patriots partied a little too heartily.
Though Patriots defensive end Larry Eisenhauer was in the middle of three straight All-Pro seasons, he couldn’t escape his reputation as a wild man. In an attempt to save himself from himself, Eisenhauer had his dad room with him at the Stardust Inn in San Diego in the days before the championship game. Still, Eisenhauer couldn’t help himself around dusk one evening. The two sat in the pool, and as the sun was about to knock off work for the night and the air began to cool, Eisenhauer confided to his father, “They’ve got another pool that’s heated. It’s private. I think you’ll like it.”
What his dad didn’t know was that this was the pool where girls in skimpy swimwear—mermaids—performed underwater ballet for the patrons who watched them through the glass tank in the hotel bar. The audience enjoying refreshments that night included some of his teammates, and they watched aghast as Eisenhauer appeared in the tank and then pulled down his shorts to give the customers the first full moon they’d see that evening.
Boston backup quarterback and punter Tom Yewcic and starting quarterback Babe Parilli were eating at the bar. Out of nowhere, Eisenhauer’s smiling mug appeared next to them behind the glass, almost assuredly disrupting the mood of the meal and, assuming he turned around with shorts at his knees, positively ruining their appetites. Eventually somebody called the police and Eisenhauer hustled out of the pool.
Another problem for the Patriots: coach Mike Holovak was considered a sweetheart of a guy, but he was also naive and gullible. The week before the game, Holovak received a phone call from Gillman. “I’ve got it all set up for you,” Gillman said. “You’re going to train at a Navy base. They’re going to have everybody ready to help you.”
Holovak was touched by Gillman’s sporting gesture, especially since it came just before the two teams were to play for the title. What Holovak didn’t realize was that several of the men in Navy uniforms who observed practice were not Navy men. They actually were Chargers personnel. Another advantage for Gillman.
But the biggest obstacle against the Patriots in claiming a championship was the mind of Gillman. He wanted this game badly, and he spent countless hours with his assistants trying to work his mind through Boston’s blitz packages and personnel. Eventually, Gillman finalized the game plan. He thought it was a good plan, maybe even a work of art.
He had no idea how right he would be. He had no idea everything was going to go perfectly for the only time in his career.
Once Gillman finalized his team’s game plan for the AFL title game, he gave it a name. “Feast or Famine,” he called it, because he knew either the Chargers were going to eat Boston’s lunch or San Diego was going to starve. Boiled down, the key to the game was the Chargers’ offense beating the Patriots’ blitz. Make those rushing defenders irrelevant, and San Diego was going to celebrate a championship.
What Gillman accomplished was brilliant. He took the Patriots’ biggest strength and made it their biggest weakness. And what he did was quite simple. He put a man in motion. That was the big revelation. Starting a man in the backfield and then having him to run to a wide receiver position. That was it.
Suddenly, the game for the Patriots was no longer familiar. Suddenly, it was confusion and hell blended together in a chaotic mess that smothered Boston’s chance to win. Suddenly, the Patriots had no