Rob Oller commentary: Lavelli made the best of what life tossed his way
The year was 1943, and Ohio State underclassman Dante Lavelli was pulling a back-in-the-day "Beanie" by bolting for greener pastures via the draft. In Europe.
Except after reaching those pastures, the receiver continued on to the woodlands, where in the Hurtgen Forest of Germany he learned a valuable lesson that would carry him through his Hall of Fame career with the Cleveland Browns.
As German World War II artillery pulverized the pine canopy that provided cover for members of the 28th Infantry Division in 1944, and as soldiers died around him in the build-up to the Battle of the Bulge, Lavelli, who died Tuesday in Cleveland at age 85, quickly came to distinguish between fields used for play and those used for more serious business. He was one of only a handful of soldiers to survive from his company.
By the time he returned to the United States in 1945, Lavelli never again would look at football as work to whine about.
"After what guys went through when looking down a loaded rifle barrel, compared to getting hit in the face (by a linebacker) ... he realized that football is a game. The other is life or death," said Edward Lavelli, who spoke of his father as an athlete who played for fun, but did so ferociously.
Under his grin, Dante Lavelli owned a mostly serious outlook, which explains why he meshed so well with Paul Brown, his even more serious coach at Ohio State in 1942, when the Buckeyes won their first national championship.
Lavelli played only two games at OSU before suffering an injury to a knee in week three against Southern California. But Brown saw enough to know the kid could catch, so he persuaded Lavelli to forfeit his final two years of eligibility at OSU -- he continued to attend classes and graduated in 1949 -- to join the new pro team.
In seven of Lavelli's 11 seasons in Cleveland, the Browns won a league championship. In three others they won a conference title but lost the championship game. The receiver who in '46 earned the nickname "Gluefingers" after catching all 40 passes thrown to him, finished with 386 receptions and 62 touchdowns before retiring in 1956.
During his final season, Lavelli left a legacy that remains a foundation of the NFL. He helped unionize players on the field so they would have benefits off the field.
"He would take a sign-up sheet and pencil in his hip pad and when he'd get tackled he'd have players sign the sign-up sheet right in the middle of the field, when the refs were pulling guys off to place the ball," Edward said.
Typical of his propensity to think of others first, Lavelli wanted players to get something close to a fair deal. The union's goals were modest: meal money on trips, minimum pay and a pension plan. Owners weren't happy, but Lavelli's efforts helped birth the NFL Players Association.
Lavelli, who played quarterback in high school in Hudson, Ohio, had offers from other top college teams, but his mother was "100 percent Italian," as Edward put it, so he picked Ohio State in part to remain closer to family.
Brown initially put Lavelli at running back in '41, when freshmen were ineligible, but moved him to end the next year after determining his short stride was not suited for the backfield.
Smart decision.
"His speed was deceptive and he had very good hands, and when the ball was thrown to him I remember he always made himself bigger than he was," said Darrel Brewster, who joined the Browns as a receiver in 1952 and became Lavelli's roommate on the road.
More than athletic ability, Lavelli was a man of uncommon kindness and class, say those who knew his well.
"He was just a different breed of cat," said Bruce Paschal, who befriended Lavelli when the two were members of Delta Tau Delta fraternity at Ohio State. "Whatever you write about him won't be enough. He came with great credentials. When he got his first money from the Browns, he bought a car and set the keys on the counter and said, 'Here's the keys. You don't walk anymore.' His grace typified him."
Lavelli seldom discussed his football career or his war experiences, choosing instead to quietly go about his business as owner of an appliance and furniture store in Rocky River. It wasn't until the past 10 years, after watching the HBO series Band of Brothers, that information began to leak out.
"He was in the Army but didn't talk about the action -- none of it," Edward said. "It wasn't until later that I found out he went 96 days without a shower because he was in battle."
What stinks worse is losing Gluefingers, a near-perfect player. And person.
Rob Oller is a sports reporter for The Dispatch.
More football
Rob Oller's columns
- 30-day archive