The 7 Touchdown game. The 40 for 60 guy. The toughest, meanest sob to ever play QB. The hurdling opponents and the knocking out of an opposing linebacker. He gave nor took any quarter.
I'll always remember the famous fight with Warwick.
"I took my bottle of tequila and I went downstairs to a gloomy corner of the basement to wallow in my despair. Somebody was already there, wallowing in his despair. It was Lonnie Warwick, the mighty hillbilly from West Virginia and Tennessee, the ex-fighter who had been working on a railroad section gang when the Vikings had signed him. Of all the players on the club, Lonnie had become one of my favorites, and I think I had become one of his—ever since I had put that shoulder into him on the practice field.
We sat there together for an hour or so, sipping tequila and commiserating. We told each other what a great football team the Vikings had, and how we're going to win the Super Bowl next year, and how we were the closest bunch of athletes ever assembled together in sports, and how we would die for one another. Then I said: "It's too bad I had to blow that game for us today."
"You didn't blow the game," Lonnie said. "The defense lost the game."
"No, no, Lonnie," I said. "Don't try to make me feel better. I blew it."
He climbed to his feet, looked down at me and said, "Listen, you crazy Mexican, I told you we lost the game, not you. Stop feeling sorry for yourself."
"Knock off all that bull, Lonnie," I said, standing up myself. "I'm the one that dropped the ball, not the defense."
This went on for about five minutes, with neither of us giving an inch, and finally Lonnie informs me that if I will not admit that the defense blew the game we will have to settle it outside in the garden. So now we're walking side by side out the back door and I'm saying that this is crazy and he's saying that it may be crazy but what's going to happen next is we're going to fight, and I say that's perfectly O.K. with me.
The noise attracted some of the other guys, but by the time they were able to stop us we'd been flailing away at each other for about five minutes by the light of the moon. When it was over, with him on top, Jim Marshall and Roy Winston made us get up and shake hands. "Good night, Lonnie," I said, and Lonnie said, "Good night, Joe," just as if we were both normal in the head.
The next morning Lonnie called and he said, "Jeez, Joe, I don't know what got into us."
"I know what got into us," I said. "Tequila. L-S-T—T for tequila, T for truth."
"Yeah," he said, "and T for trouble. I don't know about you, but I got to go to the dentist."
I said, "Well, I'm on my way to the eye doctor. One of my eyes won't open."
"I got a bad eye, too," he said. "Let's go to the eye doctor together."ys remember his famous fight with Warwick.
"Here comes Diggins"!