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Art Donovan, on sacking Bobby Layne and smelling alcohol on his breath....

“I said, Bobby … you must have had a hell of a night last night. He said, ‘I had a few at halftime.’”

Harley Sewell, a guard with the Lions 1953–1962 says, "When I was a rookie, I went with Layne to get a tube of toothpaste, and didn't get back for three days."

Bobby Layne, on a pre-NFL Championship chapel visit, "I didn't come here to shake the SOB's hand. I came to beat his ass."

Layne was also a hell of a pitcher for the Longhorns. This was before the College World Series started, but Texas had one of the nation's best teams, and Layne was its best pitcher. His overall record was 40 - 7, with a 28 - 0 record in the SWC. He had to spend the spring of '45 in military service, but resumed playing in '46. A funny story- he and roommate Rooster Andrews were horsing around and Layne cut his foot on broken glass, requiring stitches. He was scheduled to pitch in College Station the next day, and after showing up lame for a start a few weeks earlier (due to rolling a car), he didn't want to let Bibb Falk know he was hurt. He instructed Andrews (the student manager) to bring him beer during the game to hold the pain down during pitching. The Ags could tell he was hurt, and beat a drum at every limping Layne footstep. Layne pitched a no-hitter, and at the conclusion gave the Ags a "gig 'em" with his middle finger.

That story is illustrative for a number of reasons. It shows Layne's great athletic talent, his great tolerance for pain, and his dependency on alcohol as a coping mechanism. I mean, come on- beer as a pain suppressor? Layne, in his career, made friends wherever he went, and few were willing to come out and call him an alcoholic. Andrews, Walker, his teammates from the Lions and Steelers- they all treasured their post-playing road trips and parties with Layne. Yet there were so many stories, so many DWIs.

Undoubtedly, he was a complex figure, blessed and cursed by the gods. He partied a lot, and used his status as quarterback to "lead" his teams into team-building exercises (parties at bars). He was one of those individuals who only needed about three hours of sleep (such people exist; Jerry Jones is one), and he filled his extra hours awake at night with friends and drinking.

Man, how I love these stories.

From times when men were allowed to be men, even if they were men with vices like drinking, smoking and swearing.

Good God, what have we become?