Hope Brady has more fun with the Bucs than I did
- Tom Rife: Livin' the Team
- April 3, 2020
- 854
It’s probably a good thing Tom Brady did not consult with me before signing that $50 million contract with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Here’s hoping his failure to communicate doesn’t come back to haunt pro football’s GOAT.
Simply put, it’s just difficult for me to believe Brady — win or lose in a Bucs uniform — will find the same type of Gillette Stadium charm when taking snaps on Dale Mabry Highway in Tampa. On his way to the game, he’ll be trading Foxborough’s autumn splendor and landscape for stifling heat and humidity, not to mention a smattering of seamy adult entertainment establishments far too close to the Raymond James gridiron coliseum.
Never mind Cigar City will host the Super Bowl in 2021. One can only assume the “entertainers” already are licking their chops in anticipation of the arrival of TB12 Madness on Sunday afternoons. Attendance at Bucs games should be spilling over, which means business is sure to be gyrating long after the game is over too.
But enough Bay-bashing. The area itself has a certain degree of magnetism. My disdain for the Buccaneers runs much deeper, dating back to the team’s inaugural season in 1976 when the home venue was what ESPN’s Chris Berman affectionately labeled “The Big Sombrero.” It was called “expansion” professional football, but it was a far cry from what was going on down at the old Orange Bowl in Miami, where fervent Dolphins fans didn’t seem to mind one iota squeezing the car onto someone’s cramped yard for a few bucks.
On Sundays when Shula and company were on the road and the Bucs were at home, the self-assigned task was to endure the five-hour drive north from Naples up the mostly two-lane U.S. 41 (I-75 wasn’t built then) through such towns as Bonita Springs, Fort Myers, North Fort Myers, Punta Gorda, Englewood, Venice, Sarasota, Bradenton and finally Palmetto. Ultimately you hooked up with U.S. 19 and the old steel Sunshine Skyway Bridge, the path on north into St. Pete and Tampa.
For a 1 p.m. kickoff, it meant leaving home at 6:30 a.m., and the day’s total travel time for a three-hour game was about 14 hours. Yet for a prospering daily on Florida’s lower Gulf Coast, it was an off-the-clock, worthwhile effort because we thought developing an identity with the Sunshine State’s pro franchises was a good way to show readers in our highly competitive market that we had ambition. (Ahhh, the good ol' days of newspapering.)
Bucs owner Hugh Culverhouse was a lovable gent who tried his best to create a winning culture. Hiring cigar-puffing John McKay as head coach was a stroke of genius too because his wit and sarcasm came in mighty handy in post-game press conferences during an 0-14 season.
Tampa Tribune legendary sports editor Tom McEwen once asked McKay about the execution of his team's offensive line. McKay responded, “I’m in favor of it.”
Another choice quotation that summed up McKay’s frustration at the time: “We can’t win at home. We can’t win on the road, so we were going to petition the league for a neutral site.”
The paper was granted press box and locker room access but no parking credentials. That meant a long walk from either a Kmart south of the Sombrero or from a free lot on the opposite end of a three-story mall across the street from Tampa Stadium. The mall lot was supposed to be off-limits to football spectators, but it was easy to beat the system by arriving early and sipping on a soda while watching fans by the thousands march like lemmings through to the other end.
They wore their famous “Creamsicle” Bucs jerseys and lugged their stadium chairs. The most puzzling aspect was why in the world were they wasting their time, hard-earned money and energy to watch this doleful brand of football?
The 1976 Bucs are widely considered one of the worst NFL teams of all time. They were shut out five times and scored only 125 points the entire season, an average of nine per game, while giving up 412. The Buccaneers suffered so many injuries that they were forced to hire players off the street and from the CFL. The losing streak ultimately would extend to 26 games.
Of course the Bucs did eventually evolve into the Super Bowl XXXVII champions. But still, the vision of those feeble fans marching through the mall decades ago were forever etched in my memory, making it hard to latch onto Tampa Bay as an enjoyable team to adopt as a “favorite.”
Two seasons ago one of my former high school students in Florida landed a job as one of the members of the Buccaneers' cheerleading/dance team, which used to be called the Swashbucklers. Long ago they even helped serve snacks at halftime. She has to try out every year to keep her spot on the squad, but I’m sure she’s already fired up about the impending season with Brady in the huddle.
So now there are at least two reasons to try to love the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.
I just wish TB12 had asked first.