He never scored a touchdown. Not one. He never caught a pass or made a block or tackled anyone who wasn't in a business suit.
He never called a play. Zilch. He didn't roam the sideline, and he didn't replace the quarterback, and he never rode the shoulders of his players after a big victory.
He never owned a team. Never. He didn't pay the players or fire the coach or threaten to move the team.
How, then, do you fully explain the legacy of Tex Schramm?
Except to suggest this: It is frightening to imagine what the NFL would look like if he had never happened along.
Do you like football? Do you like the flow of the game, the texture, the fun of the whole shebang? If so, then you owe thanks to Schramm, who died Monday at the age of 83.
List the 10 most influential men in the history of the game, the 10 most indispensable, and his name will be on the list. Schramm was the soul of the Dallas Cowboys and the brains of the NFL at the most crucial of times for both. It was Schramm who took a game and shaped it, polished it and made it something worth buying.
He was all brainstorm and bombast, always talking, always thinking. He was one of those men who was right 95 percent of the time and who spent his days trying to convince you of the other five. He did not whisper as he tried.
It was Schramm who made the phone call to Chiefs owner Lamar Hunt that led to the merger between the NFL and AFL.
It was Schramm who led the fight to get instant replay used in NFL officiating.
It was Schramm who came up with the idea for the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders. It was Schramm who worked with Pete Rozelle on the concept of television marketing.
It was Schramm who suggested drafting Roger Staubach in the 10th round of the 1964 draft wasn't a waste. The team had to wait five years, but Staubach became a Hall of Famer. Schramm also made similar suggestions with Bob Hayes and Herschel Walker.
It was Schramm who devised the six-division, wild-card playoff format.
It was Schramm who once barnstormed with General Tom Thumb. No, wait. That was P.T. Barnum. I confuse the two.
It was Schramm who spent 22 years leading the NFL's Competition Committee, tinkering with such things as radio helmets, the play clock and pass-defense rules.
It also was Schramm who once made sure I would never again have to talk to Joe Robbie, the unpleasant owner of the Dolphins.
It was in the NFL winter meetings in the late '80s. I was covering the Dolphins and, as such, Robbie. Robbie had just built a new stadium, including a concept called club seats. He thought, accordingly, he shouldn't have to share revenue from them with the rest of the league.
On the eve of a league meeting on the matter, Robbie gave me all the reasons he felt he should be exempt. On the way to the work room I passed by Tex. I asked Tex what he thought of Robbie's position.
"The heck with that," Schramm bellowed. "We've indulged that guy enough. (For the complete statement, please insert 789 swear words here.)"
I used the quotation. Robbie was furious. From then on he said exactly two words to me. "Go." Also, "Away."
You cannot imagine how wonderful that was to hear. It was like hearing great news from the parole board. I was free.
That was typical Tex. He always had an opinion, and you liked it or you didn't, but in his mind he was right.
The league meetings were Schramm's domain. Other members of the committee would grin and grumble and talk of the night Schramm had heard about a nude beach in Hawaii, just around the corner, and the next thing you know the whole group of men would be clambering over the rocks. That was Tex, leader of men.
No, he wasn't always right. For instance, it was Schramm's idea to use replacement players during the strike of 1987, an idea so dumb it was only surpassed when baseball later tried the same thing. The idea was that players come and go, that what people cheer for is the laundry they wear. It's true that players are transient, but it does matter whether the guy on the field can play.
Of course Schramm would debate that, too. There hasn't been an NFL strike since, has there?
In the end the only argument Schramm couldn't win happened after Jerry Jones bought the team. One morning Schramm woke up and found himself sitting by the curb.
Still, Schramm made his mark. He made it to the Hall of Fame. He made it to the Cowboys Ring of Honor. No, he never played. He just led a franchise that had 20 consecutive winning seasons, including 18 playoffs and five Super Bowls. No, he never coached. He just hired Tom Landry and managed to co-exist for 22 seasons.
No, he never owned. But he steered a team, and a league, into prominence.
So lower the flags at One Buc, and for every other franchise. If they spread Tex's ashes, they should do it on every field of every team in the league.
Oh, and save a dash for that beach in Hawaii, won't you?
