Excerpt from Jim Nantz' book, Always By My Side
With Father's Day approaching, we're pleased to share an excerpt from the newly released updated and expanded paperback edition of Jim Nantz' New York Times' Best-Seller, Always By My Side: The Healing Gift of a Father's Love (with Eli Spielman). As CBS Sports prepares to embark upon its 50th season of NFL coverage, culminating with the telecast of Super Bowl XLIV, this selection features Jim's reflections prior to CBS' most recent Super Bowl, as the Emmy Award winning commentator shares special memories of his late father and what it's like to take the largest stage in sports television.
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Despite the huge scale of the Super Bowl and the myriad of distractions that week, our game plan was to try and maintain as much of our normal weekly preparation routine as much as possible. We also wanted to make it a point to have some fun and enjoy the experience. On Thursday night, the schedule called for [CBS Sports' NFL Coordinating Producer] Lance Barrow's weekly production dinner, and it was a memorable meal – as they all are at Joe's Stone Crab in Miami.
On the way over to our table, I spotted Peyton's parents, Archie and Olivia Manning, as well as Peyton's wife, Ashley. At some point over the years, I had mentioned to Archie that my dad had taken me to old Tulane Stadium on September 17, 1967, to witness the very first Saints' game ever played. Although I was only 8-years-old, I still have vivid recollections of the cigar smoke and the smell of the hot dogs on the grill. Dad bought me a program, and we sat down on the steps in one of the aisles. The Saints won the coin toss, and John Gilliam returned the opening kickoff 94 yards for a touchdown against the Rams, who were then based in Los Angeles. Alas, that opening kickoff would have to suffice as a franchise high point until Archie was drafted years later.
"I never saw such an outpouring of pure joy as I did in Indianapolis," I said to the Mannings.
"Well, Peyton really wants this one," Archie replied.
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| Jim Nantz' New York Times' Best-Seller, Always By My Side, on sale now. |
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"Now I'm not going to say that tomorrow we're going to accomplish something that's going to save humanity," Lance told everyone in our final production meeting on Saturday night. "But everyone in this room should feel mighty proud of yourself because, in your chosen field, you are at the top of your profession." He added, "Tomorrow, I want everybody in this room to just stop for a little bit – go out on the field – take a moment to yourself, and just look around. Take it all in, and say, ‘Boy, I am one blessed person!'"
When it's the Super Bowl, you know everyone will be watching. If you play football as a kid, this is the game you dream about playing in. Similarly, if you work in sports television, this is the game you want to broadcast one day. It is that big of a deal. In many ways, it is a professional rite of passage. But it is important to keep things in perspective, and Lance followed his own advice. Before assuming his seat in the control truck, he called Chuck Will, the retired former CBS associate director who had given him his first job in television back in 1976. He just wanted to thank Chuck for giving a 19-year-old college student a chance to get his foot in the door. It seemed hard to believe back then, when Chuck hired him as a spotter for Pat Summerall, that one day he would produce the Super Bowl.
Lance's speech, reminding everyone to be conscious of where they were and what this meant, as well as his own expression of remembrance and gratitude, really hit home emotionally in terms of my father's absence. From the time I started college until the time he no longer recognized my voice, I would call Dad virtually every day. I just wanted to check in, share the daily highs and lows, solicit his advice, tell him that I'm grateful to him – and that I love him. On this Super Bowl Sunday, I would've given anything to have been able to pick up a phone, hear the excitement that would've been in my Dad's voice, and then say, "Thank you, Dad. I couldn't have gotten here without you."
Earlier in the week, I had dinner with my old mentor, Frank Chirkinian, at Rush Limbaugh's estate. I also had a chance to chat with one of my childhood idols, Jack Whitaker, who had called the second half of Super Bowl I in Los Angeles – the only Super Bowl to be simulcast by both CBS and NBC. (Ray Scott called the opening half for CBS.) When I asked Jack whether he had any advice he could share with me, he chuckled and said, "Just be prepared for the opening kickoff, Jimmy." Then he recounted his own strange experience. He had just called the kickoff return to start the second half of Super Bowl I, and was utterly bewildered to see the officials, inexplicably lining up the teams for a re-kick. Only later did he learn that while the CBS crew and the Packers and Chiefs were ready to go, NBC was still in commercial. So the officials took it upon themselves to order a "do over."
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In my headset, Lance gave a "stand by" for my cue to introduce Billy Joel and "The Star-Spangled Banner." Half a dozen F-16 fighter jets from Homestead Air Force Base were already airborne and homing in on the bright lights of Dolphin Stadium. The pilots, members of the elite Thunderbirds, awaited their orders to drop to 500 feet for their flyover. At 450 miles per hour, there was no margin for error. Now that the anthem had finally started, I knew that I had exactly 90 seconds for what has become an important pre-game ritual.
Whether one would call it meditation, or a prayer, over the years, I've trained my mind to block out all the excitement and sensory noise so that I could drift into a calming reflective state. This brief respite allowed me to focus on the abundant blessings in my life: my family, my career, my friends, and my country. It's a personal ritual that I first began in 1986, when my mother's dad, Bronze Holland Trull, passed away. My grandfather was a proud World War I veteran, and I thought of him when I looked at the American flag during the National Anthem.
This brief meditation has been a part of my pre-game routine for more than two decades now, although I've long since broadened the scope of what I reflect upon. On this occasion, with my family in the stands – and my Alzheimer's disease-stricken father back in a special-care facility Houston – I wanted to channel a powerfully positive image that would trigger a smile and lead me through the broadcast in high spirits. I flashed back to Father's Day, 1974, when Dad had taken me to see the final round of the U.S. Open at Winged Foot. I was only 15-years old, but I already knew that I wanted to be a network sports commentator – ideally at CBS Sports, because it was the home of The Masters. So Dad and I spent the day working our way from the base of one TV tower to the next, trying to get as close as security would allow, and hoping to hear what Chris Schenkel or Keith Jackson, or Jim McKay were whispering to their viewers. Then, with Hale Irwin about to wrap up a historic win, Dad and I looked at one another and spontaneously took off on a mad dash toward the 18th green to witness the finish. Running side by side, with the wind at our backs, we laughed with unbridled joy. It was father-and-son bonding at its best, that rare moment when life is absolutely perfect.
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On cue, a formation of fighter jets roared out of the night sky. The rain continued to soak the 75-thousand poncho-clad spectators. Almost 140-million "friends" were tuning in at home. Many were families, congregating in their living rooms and dens – just as the Nantz family used to do back in the day.
Lance reviewed the instructions for the next sequence. My partner, Phil Simms, and I would do a brief on-camera just before the kickoff. I took advantage of that opportunity to acknowledge some of the men who had inspired me. I felt their presence on this special night – and I wanted them to know that.
Welcome back to CBS' coverage of Super Bowl XLI. It's our sixteenth Super Bowl on CBS. We were there for the first with Ray Scott, Jack Whitaker, Frank Gifford, and Pat Summerall. And a pleasure to be with you, tonight…Phil, last thought before kickoff?
"Jim, in a big game like this, where nerves can be a factor, it's always better to start on defense." Phil responded. "So for the Colts, maybe it was a blessing, losing the coin toss."
Then, in exactly the time it took me to say, "This game is brought to you in high-definition television," Phil and I had swung around to face the field, and were ready to go. So was Colts' kicker Adam Vinatieri.
Back is Devin Hester, the rookie who is so dangerous, who went to college here at Miami. He led the N-F-C in both kickoff returns and punt returns. And the Colts have had a hard time all season covering kicks…
It's Hester… trying to work it back to the middle… gets past the first wave… and there he goes!... Hester inside the thirty… Hester is going to take it all the way for a touchdown! And no flag… Ninety-two yards!
The narration was spare and clean. It would have made Pat Summerall and Ray Scott proud. But the man who had really prepared me for this moment was Jack Whitaker, when he admonished me: "Just be prepared for the opening kickoff, Jimmy." And for a split second, I was back in New Orleans in 1967 and my dad and I are standing in the smoky aisle at Tulane Stadium, wildly cheering on John Gilliam, as he sprinted to the end zone with that opening kickoff for a Saints' touchdown. Not only does life work in mysterious ways, but sometimes, it dictates its own storylines.
