HBO’s “Namath” documentary is on target

Posted Jan 23, 2012 by Bob D'Angelo

Updated Jan 23, 2012 at 10:45 PM

To a generation of pro football fans, Joe Namath epitomized cool.

Long, shaggy hair. A Fu Manchu moustache. Pink mink coats. Llama hair carpet in his swanky Manhattan apartment. A playboy bachelor never lacking companionship.

Oh, yeah. He had a rocket arm and gimpy knees. And he not only guaranteed the biggest upset in Super Bowl history, he also pulled it off.
“He was Mick Jagger in a football uniform,” sportscaster Sal Marchiano said. “He wasn’t Pat Boone.”

He also embarrassed himself on national TV in December 2003 with his “I wanna kiss you” comment to sideline reporter Suzy Kolber.

It’s all included in HBO’s documentary, “Namath,” which will air beginning Jan. 28 at 9 p.m. on the cable channel.

It’s a slick production. But slick does not mean glossed over. Namath was controversial, outrageous, and made some bad choices during his lifetime. HBO does not avoid the issues, and Namath, to his credit, is not afraid to air his dirty laundry.

HBO Sports taps into the vast vault of NFL Films to show the New York Jets quarterback in his prime, and also digs out some great, grainy films of the young quarterback during his high school days in Beaver Falls, Pa.

And HBO’s crew talked to many of Namath’s friends and contemporaries in Beaver Falls, including his older brother and sister. HBO does a nice job setting the scene in Beaver Falls, which literally drips with an Americana spirit, a blue-collar town thrilled that a native son made it big.

Interviews with boyhood friends, teammates at Alabama, and teammates with the New York Jets are liberally sprinkled through the show, along with the sportswriters and broadcasters who covered him (most notably Dave Anderson of the New York Times and Marchiano). Rival players and coaches also weighed in.

More than 40 years later, you can still see Don Shula grimace when he talks about Namath’s guarantee to win Super Bowl III. “You’ve got to give credit where credit is due, and Namath, he made the predictions, then he made them come true,” said Shula, the coach of the Baltimore Colts at the time.

Lou Michaels, the kicker who got into an argument with Namath on the Monday before the Super Bowl, was not interviewed. But linebacker Mike Curtis was, and the “Mad Dog” looks as intimidating now as when he wore No. 32 for Baltimore in the 1960s and ’70s. I looked at Curtis and couldn’t help but think of the 1971 incident at a Colts-Dolphins game in the Orange Bowl when a drunk fan wandered on the field, trotted down the line of scrimmage and picked up the football — only to be sent sprawling by a blitzing Curtis. You can still find the clip on YouTube.

The clips provided by NFL Films are magical, too.

The setting HBO provides for Namath to reminisce is kind of stark. He is sitting on a chair in the middle of a room, presumably at his home, and he just looks alone, a small part of a big room — and at 68, much older. That’s a big contrast to his career, when his presence and personality would swallow a room.

But hey, everyone gets older. Shula looks older. Don Maynard looks older. Mike Curtis? I’m still scared of him, so Mike, you look just fine …

There are some amusing film clips from Namath’s past. There’s Namath modeling pantyhose in a 1974 commercial, and there are snippets from some of the movies he acted in, like his lead role in “C.C. and Company,” and second male billing to Glen Campbell in “Norwood.” Yes, they were forgettable, except for Namath’s love scene in “C.C.” with Ann-Margret (written by her husband!). Hardly anything good in “Norwood,” except for this exchange between Campbell and Tisha Sterling:

Tisha, calling out from her bath: “Does that guitar play underwater?”

Campbell, beginning to disrobe: “No, but I do.”

I’m sure Joe would have handled that scene better.

Pop culture fans will be disappointed that there is not a clip from “Mail Order Hero,” that 1973 episode of “The Brady Bunch” where Namath played himself. Bobby Brady lies and tells his friends he knows Namath, and then fakes a serious illness to lure the quarterback to his house.

Must-see TV.

Namath’s failed marriage and his bouts with alcohol are dealt with candidly, as was his slurring monologue to Kolber on national TV. But he also beams with pride about his children and grandchild.

The 90-minute documentary ends where it began, in Beaver Falls, as Namath returns home for a reunion honoring his high school team. Namath is clearly moved, and handles himself with grace.

It’s hard to stuff a career into 90 minutes. But HBO pulls it off. “Namath” is a smart, sassy documentary with just enough pathos and regret to balance off a career that was great, but in retrospect, could have been so much greater.