Frank's playing days ended before I became fully aware of what a football even was. Reading history, it's obvious he was one of the finest in his day. I guess I remember Frank Gifford as the voice of reason - sandwiched between the pomposity of Howard Cosell and the swagger of Don Meredith on the Monday Night Football broadcasts. I often dreamed of a television feature that could mute the other two.
Sad to hear of his passing. You could say that he lived the dream of every American male. Athletic, good looking, married a beautiful (if loud and chatty) woman who was 3/4 of his age and lived a long and high achieving life.
Here's to you, Frank!
he was a star in the Big Apple, i remember when Chuck Bednerek of the Eagles plastered him and gave him a terrible concussion. Probably ended his career or close to it. He was a great sportscaster on MNF along with Howard and Don. He played the straight man very well.
RIP Frank
what a gifted life.. remember him in the early 60s as he finished his career. Knew him more as a sportcaster and a damn good one. Always a Giant fan a little sadder today.....RIP .. golden boy.........
Frank's passing is personal for me. I was a novice sports-minded kid while he was playing with the Giants in the late 50's into 1960. Looking back he was the Mickey Mantle of the Giants. I remember so well being at a friend's house messing around and listening to Giants on the radio playing the Eagles when Frank was wiped out by a Chuck Bednarik (the Dick Butkus of his day) tackle. While somberly listening, I just hoped that he would be able to get up again. I remember he had to be carried off and was hospitalized for awhile. Frank decided to retire shortly after. Coincidentally, very soon after making the announcement (and maybe to make the announcement itself) he was in the CBS building in midtown New York where my father worked. My father approached him and graciously, Frank signed a photo with a best wishes message to me (including my name). Was so cool to receive this that evening when my dad got home even if Frank was retired. God knows where that photo may be now.
I was so grateful when a year later he came back, became a flanker, and played in several more championship games. That 10 year old boy really misses you today, Frank.
Frank's passing is personal for me. I was a novice sports-minded kid while he was playing with the Giants in the late 50's into 1960. Looking back he was the Mickey Mantle of the Giants. I remember so well being at a friend's house messing around and listening to Giants on the radio playing the Eagles when Frank was wiped out by a Chuck Bednarik (the Dick Butkus of his day) tackle. While somberly listening, I just hoped that he would be able to get up again. I remember he had to be carried off and was hospitalized for awhile. Frank decided to retire shortly after. Coincidentally, very soon after making the announcement (and maybe to make the announcement itself) he was in the CBS building in midtown New York where my father worked. My father approached him and graciously, Frank signed a photo with a best wishes message to me (including my name). Was so cool to receive this that evening when my dad got home even if Frank was retired. God knows where that photo may be now.
I was so grateful when a year later he came back, became a flanker, and played in several more championship games. That 10 year old boy really misses you today, Frank.
That's a tad better than my Dean Chance story, Don.
Tell the Dean Chance story, Rob. It really is the other side of the coin.
Tell the Dean Chance story, Rob. It really is the other side of the coin.
OK, I'll tell the Dean Chance story, then.
I must have been all of 9 or 10 years old. We lived in Long Beach (L.A. area) and so did my grandparents. My Grandpa used to take me to Angels games all the time, he was a fan of theirs even though they sucked big time, and Anaheim is only a stone's throw from Long Beach. He liked to root for the underdog. Being in the American league, I saw many of the greats: Brooks Robinson, Frank Robinson, Boog Powell, Jim Palmer, Mickey Mantle, Whitey Ford, Bobby Richardson, etc, etc.
It was the pre-season and he took me to an Angels game at Blair Field there in Long Beach, where they used to play a pre-season game or two each year. Since I was 9 or 10, this would have been 1964 or '65. Dean Chance was a young star pitcher for them who had won 20 games the previous year. He had pitched only the first two innings or so and was sitting up in the stands in street clothes. There was NO ONE around him. I thought, "Oh Boy, this is my big chance" and took him my program for him to sign. I don't think he even as much as looked at me, but he said, "No kid, I ain't got time."
When I got back to my Grandpa, he just sat there swearing under his breath. He was a very calm, reserved person and it would take a whole lot to get him riled up, and I don't think I ever saw him riled up. He tried not to let on, but he was pissed...............I could see it in his face and his manner.
For me, it was kind of like finding out that there's no Santa Claus.
[Edited on 8/11/2015 by robslob]
Great shots. Frank was a little before my time as a player, but what a broadcasting team he made with Meredith and Cosell. He was a superb play-by-play man on those broadcasts, and provided the perfect balance for the antics of his broadcast partners.
RIP
One of Frank's biggest scores IMO was that flight attendant Suzen Johnson. I've still got her Playboy spread around here somewhere. Yowsa!!! He was a playa on and off the field. 😛
There is also the story from that Johnny Carson book, (written by his lawyer Henry Bushkin.)
Classic Johnny Carson story, even cracking jokes about the situation :
"...Bushkin describes accompanying Carson on a late night break-in of his second wife's apartment—an apartment she had leased without Carson's knowledge. "I have reason to believe my wife is cheating on me," Carson told Bushkin. "I also have an idea who the son of a bitch is that she's shacking up with."
Turns out, that son of a bitch was none other than former MNF announcer and flight attendant enthusiast Frank Gifford. During the break-in, Carson and Bushkin found that Carson's wife, Joanne Copeland, kept "six or seven framed photographs" of Gifford in the secret apartment. According to Bushkin, Carson did not take the news well:
Later that night, a shitfaced Carson phoned Bushkin at 2 a.m. and demanded that he come meet him at a nearby bar (Ed McMahon was also there!) to lament the failure of second marriage. "I get drunk every night and I chase all the pussy I can get," Carson said, in Bushkin's recollection. "I'm shitty in the marriage department. Make sure you understand this."
But Carson being Carson, he couldn't resist a joke about the identity of his cuckold: "Why Frank Gifford? What's that asshole got that I don't have? That guy plays three positions on the field. I could never get Joanne to go for more than two."
Bushkin noted that Carson left the bar that night with another woman who "as nearly as famous" as he was. Old Hollywood was awesome."
