Scott Adamson, Author at Adamsonmedia.com

WFL forever

Had my dream come true, we’d be celebrating the start of the 50^th season of the World Football League on July 10.

All of the “Original 12” teams would be in Wednesday Night Football action – the Birmingham Americans, Chicago Fire, Detroit Wheels, Florida Blazers, the Hawaiians, Houston Texans, Jacksonville Sharks, Memphis Southmen, New York Stars, Philadelphia Bell, Portland Storm and Southern California Sun.

**Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Threads @sladamson1960 and Adamsonmedia on Facebook.**

To commemorate World Bowl 1, the Americans and Blazers would be competing in the marquee game of the evening, playing before a packed house at Jack Gotta Memorial Stadium. George Mira, who was MVP in Birmingham’s 22-21 victory over Florida half a century earlier, would have the honors of the ceremonial coin flip.

And the 36-team circuit (it absorbed the Canadian Football League in 1993) would be well-represented across the globe by franchises such as the Tokyo Kaiju, London Fog, Mexico City Empire and Paris Towers.

Sure, things would’ve changed since 1974. Some of the clubs’ logos would be modernized; there would be no single-bar facemasks; and television coverage from networks such as NBC, the BBC and the Japan Broadcasting Corporation, along with the WFL-Xtra streaming service, would be far superior to what was offered by TVS in Year One.

But the action point would remain – as well as seven-point touchdowns, one offensive back allowed in motion toward the line of scrimmage, the elimination of fair catches, a receiver needing only one foot in bounds for a reception, mustard-yellow game balls and colorful uniforms.

Ah, if only.

There are those who will never understand the fascination people like us have with the WFL. Shoot, I’m not even sure I understand it.

It lasted less than two years. And if you want to get technical about it, the 1974 WFL folded after a season and was replaced by New League Incorporated (doing business as the WFL), which collapsed before completing the 1975 campaign.

At the time, it was the sports financial disaster to end all sports financial disasters.

So why do we still talk about it – and love it?

Because it was new and it was different and it was fun.

For fans in NFL cities like New York, Chicago, Detroit, Houston and Philly, I’m sure it was mostly a novelty. They were major league cities that had an embarrassment of riches when it came to major league sports.

But for folks who lived in locales such as Birmingham, Orlando and Jacksonville, it brought us big-time football for the first time.

I mean, when I showed up at Legion Field to watch the Americans and Sun tangle in 90-degree weather, it wasn’t like I was cheering for (or against) guys I’d never heard of. The teams were a mixture of NFL veterans and college hotshots.

Running back Charlie Harraway had played the previous eight seasons in the NFL – and played well – before jumping to the Americans. And his counterpart with the Sun, Kermit Johnson, was fresh from a consensus All-American season at UCLA.

And before the league had even held a scrimmage, Larry Csonka, Paul Warfield and Jim Kiick had been convinced to leave the Super Bowl champion Miami Dolphins for a 1975 deal with the Southmen.

So yeah … the WFL was a pretty big deal.

I was fortunate enough to make a living writing sports, and it allowed me to cover everything from the NFL to the College Football Playoff. But you wanna hear something funny?

None of those games stick in my mind like random WFL contests.

Not a one.

Aside from being in the stadium for Birmingham’s 11-7 win over Southern Cal in the league lid-lifter, I distinctly remember July 11, 1974, and watching the Stars-Sharks game on TV with my dad.

Normally a Thursday night in the summer meant I’d be up the street at a friend’s house shooting hoops in his driveway or listening to music in his basement.

But that game – the inaugural telecast on TVS – was an event.

As a New York Jets fan, I cheered for the players who had traded in Shea Stadium for Downing Stadium and were now rocking the yellow and black of the Big Apple’s WFL Team.

And Jacksonville? Loved the black shark logo on the silver helmets.

There were nearly 60,000 fans in the Gator Bowl, and they got to witness the home team take a 14-7 victory.

I recall Memphis hosting Portland in Week 2, giving me a chance to scout the Southmen before they came to Birmingham on July 24.

And when the Stars traveled to Philadelphia to take on the Bell in the July 25 Game of the Week, QB King Corcoran was talking about how he thought the Philadelphia uniforms were “pretty” during a quick pregame interview.

It was must-see TV before the phrase was coined, and I thought I was seeing the start of something wonderful – and everlasting.

At this point I guess I’m supposed to go into all the depressing details about the World Football League’s demise. But I’m not going to, not on the 50^th anniversary of its launch.

In fact, I’m celebrating its legacy because the NFL owes a great debt to the WFL.

The new league sparked a major increase in player salaries, which of course have since reached astronomical numbers.

And the WFL moved goal posts to the back of the end zone, kicked the ball off from the 30, and made tweaks to incentivize more soring, prompting the NFL to adopt more offense-friendly rules.

In short, the World Football League mattered, even if its official lifespan lasted only from October 2, 1973, to October 22, 1975.

And because it mattered, there are people like me who’ll spend Wednesday wearing our finest WFL T-shirts, reminiscing about what was and what might have been.

And I’m not saying I’m gonna drive over to Legion Field on July 10 and make a toast to the league’s Golden Anniversary, but … well, actually, I am saying that.

In my heart, the WFL lives on … forever.

The cat

The cat eyed the visitor standing outside the front door, let out a quick yawn, and then laid its head back down on the sofa, its fluffy, gray tail switching rhythmically.

“You must be Jeff from that dot com,” said Malcolm Scrimm, his gap-toothed smile stretching across his wrinkled face. “Come in, come in. Here … I made you a cup of my famous tea. Everybody that enters the House of Scrimm has to at least try it.”

Scrimm was the owner of Vlad, a Norwegian Forest cat who – according to its owner – was 39 years old.

Jeff Jaffee worked for CandidCritters, a website that specialized in writing offbeat articles concerning animals. Having received a call about Vlad a week earlier, Jaffee wanted to see if there was something to the story.

“I appreciate you letting me come out,” said Jaffee, who had no real interest in the tea but politely took a sip after Scrimm passed the cup. “Wow … that’s really good, thanks. Well, I can see Vlad has quite a tail. Now I want to hear the tale of a cat that’s nearly 40. Do you mind if I pet him?”

“Please do.”

Jaffee gave Vlad a couple of soft rubs on the head, then scratched his chin.

If Vlad was, in fact, 39, then the folks at Guinness would need to amend their list. Creme Puff was a Texas feline that lived 38 years and three days from 1967 to 2005, making it the world record holder.

“Just curious,” Jaffee said. “How exactly do you know that Vlad is 39?”

Scrimm walked over to a table beside the sofa and grabbed a scrap book.

“Because I found him 39 years ago,” he said with a chuckle. “Just showed up on my doorstep on July 3, 1985. Couldn’t have been more than three or four weeks old. Here, look.”

Scrimm pointed to a photo of himself holding Vlad while standing on his porch, which was decorated in Fourth of July bunting.

“There’s your proof,” he said. “As you can see I had some 1980s hair going for me. I think I was trying to channel Howard Jones.”

Jaffee looked at the photo and it appeared to be legitimate. Still, he needed more proof than a faded Polaroid.

“That certainly looks like you and Vlad as a kitten,” he said. “But don’t you have any veterinarian records or something like that? I just need to cross the Ts and dot the Is … you understand.”

Scrimm rubbed his chin and thought for a moment.

“Sure I do,” he said. “Lemme get it from the drawer in the kitchen.”

As Scrimm left the room, Vlad continued to eye Jaffee. There was hardly anything unusual about a cat stare, but the look he was getting from the creature was unnerving. Making things even weirder was that he was struggling to look away and felt himself overcome by a wave of dizziness.

Jaffee stumbled back against the wall after Scrimm returned with a yellow piece of paper and silver tag.

“I found what you need,” Scrimm said. “This is the paperwork for his first rabies shot in 1985, as well as the tag. Of course I’m guessing the last thing on your mind right now is your little write-up.”

Scrimm plopped down on the sofa next to Vlad, who moved onto his lap without ever breaking eye contact with Jaffee.

“I can’t tell you the number of people who are just amazed by ol’ Vlad here,” Scrimm said, gently stroking the cat. “They can’t believe he’s as old as he is and looks as healthy as he does. But I’ll let you in on a little secret before you nod off, Jeff. It all comes down to diet.”

Poisoned by the tea, Jaffee could no longer move. He slowly slid down the wall, his shirt riding up his back and his legs sprawled in front of him as his life drained away.

“See, cats need a balanced diet to stay healthy,” Scrimm said. “A little chicken, a little fish, some grains … now you feed a cat that, and he’s probably gonna give you 15 or 20 good years. But Vlad here, he’s special. And as soon as he showed up, I knew we had something in common.

“I like killing people, and he likes eating the people I kill. Turns out you give a cat some long pig, and it adds years to their life.”

Scrimm grabbed Jaffee by his feet, pulled him toward the door leading to the basement, and shoved him down the steps.

Vlad’s tail raised straight in the air as he leapt from the sofa and headed for his dinner.

Scrimm reached for his phone and punched in seven digits.

“Yes, is this CandidCritters? This is Malcolm Scrimm. That fellow you were supposed to send – Jeff was it? He never showed up. But it’s probably just as well. Me and my cat don’t really like drawing attention to ourselves, anyway.

“Have a blessed day.”

Atlanta’s NFL birthday

Today, the Atlanta Falcons are gearing up for the 2024 season under first-year head coach Raheem Morris, hoping to rebound from a 7-10 campaign that saw the end of Arthur Smith’s tenure.

Fifty-nine years ago today, the franchise was slapped on the butt and brought to life as the National Football League’s newest bouncing baby boy.

Before the birth, however, there was some question about paternity.

Because while it marked the debut of big-league football in the Deep South, it also highlighted yet another battle between the NFL and American Football League.

On June 9, 1965, the AFL granted Atlanta an expansion club for 1966 in hopes of beating the NFL – which was also wooing the Southern metropolis – to the punch. The eight-team rival to the 14-team senior circuit had already rapidly closed the talent gap, and after playing five mostly successful seasons, it was looking to expand its footprint.

The Cox Broadcasting Corporation was awarded the AFL franchise for $7.5 million, but there was still a major roadblock to clear; the Atlanta Stadium Authority informed both football leagues that it would wait until July 1 to make any deal concerning rental of its new 57,000-seat facility, which was completed on April 9, 1965, at a cost of $18 million.

“It is not up to us to choose among responsible owners holding franchises for 1966,” the authority said in a written statement. “A committee has been appointed to negotiate with any other applicants. July 1 is the deadline.”

AFL commissioner Joe Foss suggested to United Press International that a place to play wouldn’t be an issue.

“(Cox Broadcasting Corporation) has given us reasonable assurance that it would have the new stadium in which to play in Atlanta,” he said.

It just so happened that NFL commissioner Pete Rozelle was in Atlanta the same day the AFL made its announcement, further muddying the waters.

“Atlanta is a prime prospect for NFL expansion,” Rozelle told the Associated Press. “We could expand with no trouble in 1966. We have discussed this.”

By June 11 there were already rumors that the stadium authority was ready to make a deal with the NFL. On June 12, the Nashville Banner broke the story that Atlanta would, in fact, be joining the NFL and the AFL franchise would be “returned to the league.”

On June 30 – one day before the deadline issued by the Atlanta Stadium Authority – 39-year-old Atlanta businessman Rankin Smith brought the NFL to Georgia for $9 million.

“It’s a life-long dream,” Smith said in a UPI story. “Doesn’t every adult male in America want to own his own football team?”

An agreement was quickly reached to play in the city’s venue (christened Atlanta Stadium and later renamed Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium).

“I can only say that this is a great day for Atlanta,” Rozelle told AP. “But, more than for Atlanta, it’s a great day for the National Football League.”

There was immediate speculation about who the head coach would be, ranging from Paul Brown to Bud Wilkinson to Frank Broyles. The biggest news, though, was that the NFL outmaneuvered the AFL in securing an untapped market coveted by both.

To the AFL’s credit, league offcials took the setback in stride – at least publicly.

“We wish Atlanta the best,” Milt Woodard, assistant commissioner of the AFL, said. “We win some and lose some.”

Thus, Atlanta became the flagship of the NFL’s Southeast connection, which now includes the New Orleans Saints, Miami Dolphins, Tampa Bay Buccaneers, Carolina Panthers, Jacksonville Jaguars and Tennessee Titans. Speaking of the Dolphins, they became the ninth AFL franchise in 1966, giving that organization a southern locale after all.

And in the end, things worked out quite well for all involved as the 16-team NFL and 10-team AFL merged in 1970 to form what has grown into pro football’s 600-pound gorilla.