Columnist Dean Juipe: It’s true: QBs once called own plays

Dean Juipe

Tuesday, Oct. 22, 2002 | 9:05 a.m.

Dean Juipe's column appears Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. His boxing notebook appears Thursday. Reach him at juipe@lasvegassun.com or (702) 259-4084.

Today it would be unthinkable -- "out of the question," UNLV football coach John Robinson said Monday -- but in times past quarterbacks actually called their own plays.

Honestly, they did.

They'd assess their field position, look over the defensive situation and come up with a play in the huddle. Then they'd go to the line of scrimmage and run the play as called, or, perhaps, audible to something better.

But the onus was on the quarterback. It was his game, his team and he was in control.

The coach(es) stood on the sideline and only occasionally sent in a messenger with a specific request. Otherwise, within the context of having a vague game plan, they let the quarterback rely on his wits, his insights and his feel, and allowed him to pick his plays.

It's a system that worked so well for Johnny Unitas that a 13-foot statue of his likeness was unveiled Sunday at the stadium in Baltimore.

But Unitas, who died in September at the age of 69, is as long gone as the era of quarterbacks who were free thinkers, spontaneous and unrestrained.

"Back then the game was so damn simple," Robinson remarked. "Each side only had about three coaches, there wasn't much in the way of film study and everything was elementary.

"It was a little more of an individual kind of thing. Teams didn't even practice that much, so the quarterback was given a lot of leadership duties and was allowed to run the team."

It's hard to imagine that a bright and modern quarterback, such as Green Bay's Brett Favre, would be unable to call his own plays, but Robinson said it would place an unnecessary burden on the poor guy. (Robinson calls about 15 UNLV plays per game, with quarterback coach Vince Alcalde calling the others.)

"I could see some wisdom in doing it with Favre or a Joe Montana, but it would also subject him to criticism for his play calling as well as his play," Robinson said. And taking the heat -- or the praise -- for calling plays is the responsibility of the coaching staff, he further believes.

"Now we have expert coaches," he added, risking the wrath of all who came before him, the feisty George Halas, in particular, rolling over in his grave.

But anyone who knows of Halas also recalls when a quarterback was referred to as a "field general." Today that same player has more robotic traits than his predecessors and has slipped to a lieutenant's role.

He has become an intermediary, taking his cues and commands from elsewhere as part of what Robinson calls "the dramatic change of the game."

Then again, quarterbacks aren't the only athletes who have been stripped of some of their power. Baseball pitchers, who once shared pitch-selection calls solely with their catchers, are now subjected to a manager's whims in the dugout, and pro golfers, more than ever, will ask their caddies to help line up putts.

Makes you wonder how anyone from a bygone day managed to get by, or how a Unitas-like player could perform without the crutch that a play-calling coach supplies.

It's the equivalent, I guess, of wondering how anyone could function without a cell phone, even though a few of us still try.