America is an unforgiving country for flawed men and its Pilgrim past is never more evident than when it remembers its sporting heroes.
I’ll explain this all later, but first, a joke.
A Jewish father who is concerned about his wayward son asks the local rabbi for guidance and advice.
The rabbi tells the father he has a proven test which will accurately predict the young man’s destiny.
One night while the son is out socialising, the rabbi leaves a bottle of whiskey, a packet of cigarettes, a copy of The Sporting Life and a Bible on a table in the sitting room.
The rabbi and the father then hide behind the curtains, waiting on the son to return.
When the son enters the room, he immediately pours himself a glass of whiskey and lights a cigarette.
The rabbi shakes his head mournfully.
Then the son casually leafs through The Sporting Life studying the racing pages.
Finally, having downed the whiskey and finished the cigarette, the son picks up the bible and takes it to his bedroom.
“Oh no, it’s the worst,” exclaims the rabbi, who bows his head disconsolately.
“Why, what does it mean?” asks the father.
“He’s going to be a Catholic priest,” wails the rabbi.
I tell the joke by way of introducing you to Paul Hornung, a former American football star, who died last weekend .
Chances are you’ve never heard of Paul Vernon Hornung, born on the 23rd of December 1935 and raised by his mother, Loretta, a devout Catholic.
The University of Kentucky were desperate to recruit the supremely talented Hornung but he turned them down in favour of Notre Dame.
“I couldn’t say no to my mother,” said Hornung.
I got to know of Paul ‘Golden Boy’ Hornung when I read 'When Pride Still Mattered', the masterful biography of the legendary American football coach Vince Lombardi.
Lombardi’s relationship with Hornung is one of the most surprising and engaging parts of a truly brilliant book.
Lombardi trained to be a priest before turning his attention to sport. As a football coach, he was like a cross between Brian Cody and Mickey Harte.
Think fear, faith and football.
Yet, all of Lombardi’s most famous character traits were smashed to pieces in his relationship with Hornung.
The gifted athlete with the movie-star looks was famed for epic drinking sessions.
In a 2004 autobiography, Hornung stated he had few regrets about a life that was “all about games, girls, gambling and gin joints, not necessarily in that order.”
In 'When Pride Still Mattered', the author, David Maraniss, recounts countless episodes where Lombardi is called to bail Hornung out of the drunk tank.
He also smoked.
The New York Times said: “Lombardi forgave him for breaking team rules because he trusted Mr Hornung to be at his best on Sunday afternoons. In the locker room before games, Mr Hornung was quiet and intense, chain-smoking cigarettes before leading his team onto the field.”
Lombardi’s faith in Hornung wasn’t misplaced.
He was the National Football League's (NFL) top scorer on three occasions and won the Most Valuable Player Award in 1961.
Hornung’s team-mate Jerry Kramer wrote in his book 'Distant Replay' that “Paul was really the only player we had who came in a superstar and left a superstar.”
Hornung’s career was dealt a serious blow in 1963 when he was suspended for gambling.
Hornung said he only ever bet on Green Bay to win.
While the NFL found no evidence to the contrary, he was still suspended for an entire season.
He also had to face the wrath of Lombardi.
Invoking their shared faith, Lombardi told him: “You stay at the foot of the cross. I don’t want to see you go to the racetrack. I don’t want to hear about you going to the Kentucky Derby. I don’t want to hear about you doing anything. Keep your nose clean and I’ll do my best to get you back. But, mister, stay at the foot of the cross.”
Despite reports that Lombardi would trade his running back, it never happened.
In 1967 Lombardi said: “Paul Hornung is the greatest player I’ve ever coached, and the greatest I’ve ever seen on the football field within the 20-yard-line. He was more than just a player, he was like a son to me.”
Imagine how Ireland would venerate an individual like Paul Hornung. But America is different. And it’s still different.
One of the best footballers of his generation, Hornung had to wait until 1986, his 15th time on the ballot before he was inducted into the NFL Hall of Fame, evidently because of his suspension.
His obituaries in the American broadsheets refused to let it go.
This is The New York Times: “Paul Hornung, one of the most versatile and glamorous football stars of the modern game, the ‘Golden Boy’ quarter-back from Notre Dame who won championships as a running back with Vince Lombardi’s Green Bay Packers but whose image was tarnished by gambling and carousing, died on Friday in Louisville, Ky.”
Apparently in America, your image can be tarnished for “carousing”. We named an airport after George Best.
The opening paragraph of his obituary in The Washington Post also refers to his reputation being “tarnished by a one-year suspension for gambling”.
In Ireland, Paul Hornung would have been feted like a demi-god.
A good-looking footballer, oozing charisma and charm, who took a drink, liked a bet and enjoyed the company of women.
He would have been viewed as the ultimate Irishman. He could have been President.
And if it hadn’t have worked out for him as a footballer, he would have made a damned fine priest!
