Like everyone else, I was a big fan of NFL Films.
So when I was approached during Super Bowl XXXV in 2000 about having lunch with Steve Sabol, I jumped at the opportunity. I looked forward to discussing football, the upcoming game between the Giants and Baltimore in Tampa, and film making, most definitely film making, with the famed president of NFL Films.
Now my memory is a bit foggy, but I’m fairly sure we initially started by talking about art museums. Yes, art museums.
Sabol loved going to art museums in towns he visited, and he was interested in what Tampa had to offer.
I’m not from Tampa and hardly an art expert. But thanks to my parents living in Sarasota, I was able to tell him about the Ringling Art Museum. I had been there once. All I knew is that Ringling (from the circus) was a notable collector and had some famous paintings from the 15th and 16th Centuries.
“Really?” he said, scribbling the name on a piece of paper. “That sounds terrific.”
I learned quickly that Sabol was a different breed. In fact, he had no interest in sports other than football.
“I have no idea who played in the World Series,” Sabol said. “Don’t care.”
Who knows? Sabol might not have had an interest in football if not for the chance to put the game on film.
Looking back, it really wasn’t a surprise that he was in search of a art museum during a Super Bowl. He truly was an artist with his vision for NFL Films.
My favorite was a series called Lost Treasures of NFL Films. It featured vintage old footage that had never been used before.
In a 1999 story for the Chicago Tribune, I wrote:
The programs are like opening a time capsule, tracing the roots of both the NFL and NFL Films, which first started shooting games in 1962. The shows go back to a period when everything was innocent, gritty and more passionate. Everything looked more genuine.
Included are vintage shots of Bears games at Wrigley Field, botched attempts to get audio from Vince Lombardi and the incomprehensible notion of players simply handing the ball to officials after scoring a touchdown.
“You think to yourself, `Boy, how have things changed?’ ” Sabol said. “There were no earrings or headsets. The feeling you get is like sitting around with a bunch of friends, saying, `I can remember what it was like.’ “
The original plan was to have actor Richard Kiley narrate the films. Unfortunately, the actor died two weeks before production.
Fortunately, it led to Sabol filling in. From the story:
Sabol doesn’t read from a script. Instead he talks over on the film, remembering things as he sees them again.
“It’s like sitting around with a proud father who has a bunch of old movies and is dying to talk about it,” Sabol said.
Sabol, the proud father, told those stories as only he could. In the clip above, he discusses working with John Facenda.
“The first words he said for us, ‘It starts with a whistle and ends with a gun,” Sabol said in this Lost Treasure. “We knew we were on to something. He read our scripts as if he was an after-dinner speaker for the Last Supper.”
Hence, Facenda’s nickname, “The Voice of God.”
Sabol, though, was the star of this series. He showed the evolution of the league and NFL Films. It was like an artist detailing every brush stroke.
And then there were stories. It seemed like every frame of film had a tale behind it, one better than the other.
“My dad has a great expression,” Sabol said when his father and NFL Films founder Ed was inducted into the Hall of Fame. ” ‘Tell me a fact, and I’ll learn. Tell me a truth, and I’ll believe. But tell me a story, and it will live in my heart forever.'”
Thanks to his work at NFL Films, Sabol’s stories will live forever.
Thinking back at our lunch at Super Bowl XXXV, I wonder what art museum Sabol chose to visit. I’d like to think he took the hour drive down to Sarasota to see the Ringling Museum.
It would make me feel good to give something back to Sabol considering all that he gave to us.
