In 1971, Bears coach Jim Dooley was so intent on developing quarterback Bobby Douglass that he moved into Douglass’ bachelor apartment the week of a game against the Detroit Lions. It was the first start of the season for Douglass, who was following Jack Concannon and Kent Nix.
The odd couple lived, ate and breathed football, reviewing the game plan before and after working hours.
“Some of it was show, but we went out to dinner with Sid Luckman,” Douglass said.
Dooley hoped the Hall of Fame quarterback would rub off on the third-year left-hander.
The unusual bonding between player and coach paid off in a 28-23 victory in which Douglass brought the Bears back from a deficit three times, throwing two touchdown passes and running for the winner. It might have been Douglass’ finest game as a Bear, but it was forgotten quickly with the death of Lions receiver Chuck Hughes of a heart attack on the field.
Later that season, Dooley devised a plan to alert Douglass of Denver Broncos blitzes when he blasted an air horn on the sideline, the signal for Douglass to call an audible. It worked in practice, but when the Bears got to Mile High Stadium, things changed.
“Little did we know there would be 40,000 air horns,” linebacker Doug Buffone said.
The Bears lost 6-3. Owner George Halas labeled it “a deplorable game plan” and fired Dooley after the season.
But Dooley was ahead of his time. He knew the most important thing a head coach can do is create an atmosphere of rapport, trust, unity, understanding, order, cooperation, communication, agreement with the quarterback by any means necessary. Mike Ditka tries to do it face to face, such as inviting Doug Flutie to Thanksgiving dinner or pilloring Jim Harbaugh. Not every means works.
“If the quarterback and you don’t think alike, something’s wrong,” Dooley said.
The most successful coaches today find a way to treat their quarterbacks in a different and special way. Skeptics doubted young Steve Mariucci in San Francisco. Not Brett Favre, who counts former Packers quarterback coach Mariucci among his best friends. Already, Mariucci has won an important game with a rookie, Jim Druckenmiller, subbing for injured Steve Young.
Friendship is one of the means, but not a requirement. Green Bay’s Mike Holmgren has replaced Bill Walsh as the foremost developer of quarterbacks. He is more teacher and father than friend.
Jim Fassel, a Bears draft choice as a quarterback in 1972, developed Kent Graham in Arizona before joining the Giants to teach Dave Brown. He may have discovered Danny Kanell.
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Pete Carroll has Drew Bledsoe off to his best start with the Patriots. Bledsoe was happy to escape the gruff Bill Parcells, yet admits the experience helped.
Kevin Gilbride is an offensive coach trying to get more out of Stan Humphries in San Diego than Bobby Ross could, while Ross is busy calling the Lions’ Scott Mitchell the hardest-working, best-prepared quarterback he has had.
Of course, the better a quarterback plays, the easier it is to form a strong relationship with the coach. But good quarterbacks don’t guarantee smooth sailing with every coach. Dan Reeves didn’t seem able to get along with the great John Elway any better than he did with the ordinary Dave Brown. Barry Switzer and Troy Aikman never seem on exactly the same wavelength in Dallas. Jimmy Johnson tweaked Dan Marino in Miami apparently to motivate the most prolific arm in history.
Ray Rhodes is juggling quarterbacks in Philadelphia, where offensive coordinator Jon Gruden is another former Holmgren aid with a bright future. Dom Capers has reinstated Kerry Collins in Carolina this week after injury and criticism from teammates turned the young quarterback’s world upside down.
Ted Marchibroda remains one of the league’s best coaches solely on his ability to extract the most out of his quarterbacks. He won in Baltimore with Bert Jones. He was the architect of Buffalo’s offenses that got Jim Kelly to four Super Bowls. He oversaw Lindy Infante’s rehabilitation of Harbaugh in Indianapolis. Now he has turned Vinny Testaverde around in Baltimore.
Like most coaches, Marchibroda is no miracle worker. He was the Bears’ offensive coordinator for one year, under Neill Armstrong in 1981. The Bears tried to win with Vince Evans. Bob Avellini and Mike Phipps were on the bench. It was the year Armstrong was fired. Marchibroda left certain he knew one thing about quarterbacks: “You can’t win without one.”
Quarterbacks usually find out the same thing about coaches.