Author: Scott Adamson

The World Football League went out of business on October 22, 1975. As for actual competition, though, that business concluded in the wee hours of October 20, 1975.

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl

The final Sunday (October 19) of WFL action featured four games. Birmingham blanked Memphis, 21-0, and Shreveport outscored San Antonio, 41-31, in the two afternoon contests; Portland thumped Jacksonville, 30-13, in an 8 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time showdown; and Southern California whipped The Hawaiians, 26-7, in a game played in Honolulu that kicked off at 11:30 p.m. EDT.

(Philadelphia defeated Charlotte, 18-10, on October 18 in what we can now call “The Beginning of the End.”)

No one could’ve been sure that this – the second weekend of the WFL’s split-season schedule – would be its last, but I can’t imagine anyone being the least bit surprised that it was.

League meetings were held in New York on October 13-14 with the option of shutting down very much on the table. When they were over, WFL Commissioner Chris Hemmeter announced that such touchy subjects as staying in business or going out of business would no longer be discussed publicly.

“We are not going to indulge in any more speculation about the viability of the WFL because its viability to us has never been questionable,” Hemmeter told the Associated Press. “We will not entertain questions about the future of the league because such questions always end up implying that the WFL is weak and its future is questionable. Nor will we entertain questions about our financial condition as these questions are internal matters.”

Any time the CEO of a business uses words like “speculation” and “viability,” it usually means those who are speculating about its viability are on to something. And they were.

The 1975 WFL tried to pick up the pieces of the 1974 version by being an entirely new and separate entity in a corporate sense. It was “New League Inc.” doing business as the WFL, so technically it was a remake instead of a sequel.

The business model was based on the “Hemmeter Plan,” which meant most players were paid one percent of a team’s income after expenses. According to the 1975 media guide 42 percent of a team’s revenue was allocated for salaries, 3 percent to the injured reserve pool, 10 percent to stadiums and 6 percent to the league. The remaining 39 percent covered everything from front office salaries to utilities.

Such constraints were designed to keep spending in check and help the 11 franchises remain solvent. Unlike 1974, you wouldn’t have to worry about franchises folding or relocating.

But …

In early September the Chicago Winds did, in fact, fold when two financial backers pulled out.

And the Hemmeter Plan – while sound in theory – meant many players were making minor league money because attendance was extremely low in most cities. In fact, even the bare-bones pay scale was being scaled back as the season progressed.

Throw in the fact that the WFL had no national TV contract and even the most optimistic fan realized it’d take a miracle for the league to survive.

Which brings us back to the last game in WFL history, played before 15,905 fans at Aloha Stadium (many who paid $3 for end zone seats). Leading up to the game six Hawaiian players, including two quarterbacks and a top receiver, decided to leave the team instead of taking further cuts. Those who stuck around had already decided to meet the day after the contest and figure out if they wanted to play out the season.

For the record, Southern California’s Benny Ricardo accounted for the final points in WFL history when he kicked a 38-yard field goal in the fourth quarter to make it 26-7.

That happened around 9:30 p.m. in the Hawaii–Aleutian Time Zone and 2:30 a.m. Monday on the East Coast of the United States. By Monday afternoon, the fate of the league became pretty clear.

While Birmingham drew a nice crowd of 35,000 for the game against its archrival, fans around the rest of the league stayed away in droves. Only 1,293 showed up in Philadelphia, Portland drew 8,713, and Shreveport had 8,500 paying customers.

Associated Press headlines the day after the Sunday games read, “WFL Is Close To Folding Up” and on Tuesday it was reported that an emergency call among owners was set.

The afternoon newspapers of Wednesday, October 22, printed the obituary:

NEW YORK – The World Football League, professional sports’ most unsuccessful league, decided to fold in mid-season, it was learned today.

The WFL, reorganized this year by Chris Hemmeter following last year’s series of disasters in which $20 million was lost, simply could not attract the crowds necessary to keep the 10-team league afloat.

“It’s over,” said an official of the Birmingham franchise. “The league has had it.”

As you might’ve surmised by now, alternative football is my kink. If a new league comes along, whether it’s big-time, small-time – or as is usually the case, short time – it has my interest.

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl

But here’s an interesting twist; 100 years ago pro football was, in fact, alternative football. Not only that, it was viewed by many as an abomination to the sport made popular by college athletes.

History shows that 1920 was a pivotal year in the evolution of the game, so let’s dip into the primordial soup …

As the 1900s entered its teen years, professional football had no central governing body and was split into regional loops scattered across the country. Ohio and Minnesota were states that seemed to take it most seriously, with Ohio home to the American Professional Football Conference (made up of the Akron Pros, Canton Bulldogs, Cleveland Tigers and Dayton Triangles). Still, there were teams and leagues from coast to coast, often barnstorming and utilizing informal schedules.

And the fact that they stocked their rosters by luring both former and current college players with money did not sit well with the “establishment.”

In December, 1919, officials of the Western Intercollegiate Conference Athletic Association voted to revoke letters and “disqualify for all employment in connection with conference athletics” any player who made the jump. In January, 1920, other college officials joined in the move to thwart any professional leagues.

Upon returning from the National Intercollegiate Association Convention, L.W. St. John – Ohio State director of athletics – expressed solidarity with the WICAA. “Professional football is a posthumous child of the game,” he told the Buffalo Courier for a February 1, 1920, story. “There is not a thing that can be said in its defense by any sensible man who loves sport. Professional managers are unscrupulous in their dealings with players. They tamper with college men still in school. Young players in need of money are often unable to withstand the temptations held out to them. Their morals are corrupted.”

Some newspaper columnists of the day sided with traditionalists. A national syndicated column known as “The Insider Says” had this to say …

This autumn sees a bigger boost than ever in professional football. Elevens have been formed all over the country. They are especially thick in the Midwest. The game has progressed so that regular sectional schedules are followed, leading to a championship. These pro teams are made up mostly of former college stars. A wide range of colleges are represented on the line-ups.

“One thing you’ll notice – there are mighty few Yale, Harvard and Princeton grads playing professional football. One can’t help feeling this fact is a credit to those institutions. No great glory attaches to the institution that supplies a large number of professional football athletes. Football is fundamentally a strictly amateur college game.

On the other hand Jack Veiock – the noted sports editor of the International News Service – saw professional football as inevitable. He wrote:

Each succeeding season sees the pro grid game increasing in popularity and many followers now believe that it will only be a matter of time until a professional football league will be in operation.

The professional game has been played for many years by scattered teams. With a few exceptions these elevens, or “clubs,” have made a big success of the game financially. And as football grows in popularity, the chance for the professional game to flourish will grow in proportion.

Ohio is the stronghold of the pro game, Jim Thorpe’s brilliant aggregation, the Canton Bulldogs, who laid claim to the national title in their class after defeating the Massillon Tigers 3 to 0, furnish a vivid example of what the game may develop if it is taken up by competent promoters.

… Suppose Chicago, Boston, St. Louis, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, Cleveland, Detroit or Cincinnati should suddenly be stung by the professional football bug and a league formed. Do you think it would lose money?

Those words were written in January, 1920.

Eight months later, wire services picked up this story:

CANTON, OHIO – Jim Thorpe, famous Indian football player and coach of the Canton Bulldogs, a local professional team, has been chosen head of the American Professional Football Association, the only professional football organization in the country, according to an announcement here today.

Representatives of eleven cities unanimously voted Thorpe to the presidency with Stanley Cofall of Cleveland as vice president and Art Ranney of Akron for secretary and treasurer.

A decision was reached to refrain from luring players out of college for the professional game.

The new league featured members of the Ohio-based APFC along with the Buffalo All-Americans, Chicago Cardinals, Chicago Tigers, Columbus Panhandles, Decatur Staleys, Detroit Heralds, Hammond Pros, Muncie Flyers, Rochester Jeffersons and Rock Island Independents. It had actually been formed on August 20, 1920, but this was the first time a “ceasefire” had been announced between the amateurs and the pros. There were still some shady dealings early on, but after a couple of years the hands-off approach was in full effect. Thus, college ADs no longer had to worry about their athletes being “corrupted,” and could continue to look down their noses at men who played for pay.

As for the pros, well, the game might’ve been intended as a spectacle for amateur athletes, but they ended up providing a pretty good brand of alternative football. After the American Professional Football Association opened its inaugural season on September 26, 1920, it played one more year under the APFA banner.

On January 28, 1922, it changed its name to the National Football League.

Playing the “What if?” game is pointless, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be fun. And when applied to sports, it often opens up a whole new conversation.

When I wrote The Home Team: My Bromance With Off-Brand Football, I came across some great information that went unused because it didn’t really fit into the book. One tidbit concerned the first few months of the World Football League, which coincided with a National Football League strike that lasted just over five weeks.

And that got me thinking … what if the NFL work stoppage had wiped out or diluted its 1974 season? Would that have given the upstarts the opening they needed to establish themselves as a legitimate threat to the pro football establishment?

The strike began on July 1, 1974, which was just nine days before the start of the WFL’s inaugural season. Picketing began on July 3 at the San Diego Chargers’ training camp (they were the first of the 26 NFL teams to open workouts) and demands included elimination of the reserve clause, waiver system and “Rozelle Rule,” which allowed NFL commissioner Pete Rozelle to order compensation for a franchise if one of its players played out his option and signed with another team.

Meanwhile, everything was all rainbows and unicorns for the 12-team WFL – at least as far as the general public knew. The Southern California Sun, New York Stars, Philadelphia Bell, Chicago Fire, Detroit Wheels and Houston Texans gave it a presence in major media markets, while the Portland Storm, Birmingham Americans, Jacksonville Sharks, Memphis Southmen and Florida Blazers were franchises designed to tap into new pro football hotbeds. The Hawaiians, based in Honolulu, rounded out the flagship clubs and provided an exotic touch to the WFL.

It had already rocked the sports establishment by signing NFL standouts such as Larry Csonka, Calvin Hill, Jim Kiick, Paul Warfield and Ted Kwalick for 1975 and Ken Stabler for 1976. In fact, nearly 70 NFL players had either  jumped or were set to make the switch by 1976.

The WFL played four weeks of its regular season schedule while the strike was under way, and the NFL’s preseason games were contested by rookies and non-striking veterans in front of small crowds.

Perhaps owners would’ve fielded “scab” teams during a lengthy strike, but it’s quite possible the NFL season would’ve been wiped out had both sides dug in their heels. With the 26 traditional franchises sitting idle, the new league would be the only domestic pro game in action and would’ve almost certainly benefited at the box office. Plus, the future WFL players could’ve claimed they were being locked out by NFL owners and free to sign with the competition right away.

In that scenario, it would’ve also been interesting to see if the WFL could’ve managed to wrangle some kind of temporary network TV deal (with the resulting infusion of cash) during the NFL work stoppage.

The syndicated TVS network televised a game of the week each Thursday, and most teams had local market coverage for road games. That offered some national exposure, but was hardly a financial boon compared to a major network contract. In fact, the TVS deal was worth only $1.5 million to the league.

The NFL, on the other hand, was set to start a four-year, $400 million contract with NBC, CBS and ABC in 1974. But with no games to televise, might one of the “Big 3” been tempted to get the WFL to move games to Sunday and/or Monday and fill their gridiron void?

As a longtime fanboy of the World Football League, I’ve often wondered about that alternate reality and how it might’ve changed the pro football landscape. But while an NFL strike would’ve certainly put the WFL in a much bigger spotlight, the newbies were headed for self-destruction from the outset.

Built on a financial house of cards, many WFL owners spent money they didn’t have and hundreds of players went months without a paycheck. Stability problems existed long before play began on July 10, and hindsight points to a league that went to market when it was nowhere near ready for prime time.

Despite the fact that most issues remained unsettled, the NFL’s striking players went back to work on August 10 and by the end of the season the labor strife was mostly forgotten by fans. The WFL, on the other hand, limped to the end of the 1974 campaign. Along the way two of its franchises folded, two more changed cities, and the entire league went under only to be reformed in 1975 as New League Inc. (doing business as the WFL). The rebooted circuit went out of business for good on October 22, 1975.

And although people like me are always happy to discuss the “What ifs?” of the renegade league, ultimately it proved to be more of a short-lived inconvenience to the old guard rather than a major threat.