They rolled out the red carpet for Warren Moon's annual Sports Dream Bowl benefiting the Urban Scholarship Fund on Saturday at Texas Station, and the first man to set his feet on it -- size 17 feet -- was former Dallas Cowboys defensive end Ed "Too Tall" Jones.
Jones was carrying a pair of size 17 bowling shoes, because the Texas Star Lanes Bowling Center apparently was out of them, and a size 18 chip on his shoulder. He gave one terse interview and rebuffed an older women's attempt to obtain his autograph on her regular-size Dallas Cowboys football helmet. Apparently, Too Tall still hasn't gotten over being knocked on his keister by Not So Tall Jesus "Yaqui" Meneses during his pro boxing debut in Las Cruces, N.M., in 1979.The second man on the red carpet was Locomotives quarterback Chase Clement, who was mostly mistaken for one of the Hardy Boys or Matt Clement, the former baseball pitcher.
Clement did not refuse any autograph requests; then again, there was none.
Marlin Briscoe was among the next group, and of all the NFL and NBA players and pseudo celebrities and Chase Clement who walked the red carpet on their way to the bowling center -- now there's a prepositional phrase one seldom sees -- his story is among the most compelling. Even if hardly anybody remembers it. Perhaps that is why Moon's production company is trying hard to get a movie made about Briscoe's life.
On Sept. 29, 1968, after Denver Broncos starting quarterback Steve Tensi broke his collarbone and backup Joe Divito couldn't move the team, Briscoe came on and completed his first pass as a pro for 22 yards.
The next week, the 5-foot-10-inch, 177-pound Marlin Briscoe became pro football's first African-American starting quarterback. If one recalls, 1968 was a pretty tough year to be an African-American anything, and as 6-5, 248-pound Cam Newton sauntered by with his baseball cap cocked at a jaunty angle, I asked Briscoe if he thought the strapping kid from Auburn was appreciative at all, or even knew who Briscoe was.
Oh, yes, Briscoe said, surprising his questioner. As a 15-year-old, Newton had attended one of those quarterback camps at which Briscoe was an instructor, and even then Newton stuck out like a thumb that had gotten caught in a facemask. They talked about that at one of the cocktail parties the night before.
About 100 people lining the red carpet asked Newton for his autograph. Only one person asked Briscoe, 65, for his.
"I got him right here," this older gentleman told me, nodding to four or five barely legible signatures on a white placard.
"Briscoe ... little guy ... right here.
"Say, help me out. Who was he again?"
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