Playboy Interview: Don Meredith

At the end of last summer, while millions of Americans pondered such weighty issues as Koreagate, the fate of Bert Lance and the national unemployment rate, at least one bit of news seemed cheery: Don Meredith was coming back to ABC-TV's "Monday Night Football." Ordinarily, the hiring (or, in this case, the rehiring) of a sports announcer is greeted with the biggest of yawns, but Dandy Don isn't your ordinary sports announcer. In his eight years of broadcasting, Meredith--whose country-boy persona never quite conceals his sense of sardonic humor--has built a surprisingly strong public following.

Meredith's singular brand of urbane corn seems to blend perfectly with the patrician play-by-play of Frank Gifford and the prolix pronunciamentos (as he might put it) of Howard Cosell. Together, they form the most entertaining broadcast team on television today. In fact, the byplay among the three announcers often overshadows the ball game they're covering and by now has become one of the show's chief attractions. Although Faultless Frank usually prefers to take himself out of that particular game, Meredith delights in it--especially when taking the wind out of Cosell's sails if Humble Howard blows a bit too blustery. As a result of his inspired goofing around, Meredith has become one of the highest-paid sportscasters in TV history. To lure him away from NBC, ABC is reportedly shelling out $400,000 a year on a long-term contract that allows him to skip all pre- and postseason football broadcasts, plus up to four Monday-night games if he should be acting in a movie at the time. For a former pro quarterback to whom down and out was threatening to become more a way of life than a pass pattern, Meredith has made one hell of a comeback.

Born on April 10, 1938, in Mt. Vernon, Texas, Meredith was the son of hardworking parents who ran a dry-goods store and raised cattle on 600 acres of nearby land that they owned. "But that didn't mean we were rich," Meredith says. "I didn't realize we were poor until I was 18, because everything had always been smooth--we always ate well and my jeans and T-shirts were always clean, but we never really had any money."

The two Meredith boys--Don and his older brother, Billy Jack--grew up helping out in the store, feeding the cattle and generally enjoying a conventional East Texas childhood. Early on, it became clear that Don was an exceptional athlete, and by the time he was ready for college, he'd become the Southwest's most heavily recruited schoolboy football player. After receiving and weighing scores of offers, Meredith accepted a free ride to Southern Methodist University. "When I was a sophomore, I decided on what I'd do with the rest of my life," he recalls. "I'd marry the campus queen, become a lawyer, work for some people I knew who owned an oil company and live in Camelot."

Meredith's vision of Camelot changed by the time he was graduated in 1960. A two-time all-American at SMU, he set a college record for career throwing accuracy by completing 61 percent of all his passes. Although he and his broadcast colleagues kid about his football days, Meredith, a slick, intelligent quarterback, played nine seasons for the Dallas Cowboys and was twice voted to the National Football League's All-Star team. When he retired after the 1968 season--prematurely, many thought--he'd been the N.F.L.'s second leading passer that season. For more than a year after that, Meredith met with resounding financial failure, and he seemed on the verge of becoming just another bottomed-out ex-jock, until, in 1970, he suddenly found himself on "Monday Night Football."

To interview the 39-year-old announcer and aspiring actor, Playboy sent Lawrence Linderman to meet with Meredith at his home in Los Angeles and to follow him around on the Monday-night circuit. Linderman reports:

"Meredith often seems to be a 6'3", 200-pound version of Huckleberry Finn, except that there's also a good deal of Mark Twain in him, which makes things confusing for everybody, including Meredith. But at least this much is clear: He is as bright as a San Antonio sunrise, as charming as he wants to be (and usually he wants to be) and as private as he can be. In many ways, his world begins and ends with his wife, Susan, a sensitive, independent woman who is her man's anchor. What they have is each other and son Michael, Meredith's ten-year-old from a second marriage. Very little else has meaning for Meredith, though it should be noted that he prefers to travel in style. The Merediths live in a snazzy home in a snazzy section of Beverly Hills, but they don't really make the Hollywood scene. You won't see Don and Susan at openings and previews, for their social life consists primarily of visiting friends or having friends visit them.

"Ironically, Meredith is perhaps the most approached--and least approachable--member of ABC's Monday-night triumvirate. People don't run up to Howard Cosell, because he intimidates them, and they don't slap Frank Gifford on the back, because he is such a nice guy (he is) they just don't want to disturb him. But ole Dandy Don is everyone's country cousin--and Meredith, being a well-brought-up, extremely polite man, rarely fails to respond in a proper manner. Acting thus suits him very well, for, in truth, Meredith has been playing a role for many years: He's about as much a bucolic bumpkin as Cosell is.

"Behind the mask of Dandy Don there lurks a very guarded man, and although interviewing him was a pleasure, it was also work, for Meredith is rather reluctant to open up about himself. Still, when he finally got semicomfortable with the idea of having his thoughts recorded for Playboy and posterity (that's what interviewers shout as they charge into battle), Meredith warmed to the project. Since the N.F.L. season was in full swing when we started taping, Dandy Don's reappearance on 'Monday Night Football' provided the opening subject for our conversations."

[Q] Playboy: Last summer, when Roone Arledge announced your return to Monday Night Football, he called it "a great leap backward." Arledge was being facetious, but was there any truth to his remark?

[A] Meredith: I don't think so. My contract was up at NBC, and I felt that if I were going to continue doing football games on TV--which I'd decided to do--then ABC was the best place to do 'em. Aside from that, there's a big difference to me in the way the two companies are structured. I know who to talk to at ABC; I didn't at NBC. When I left ABC three years ago, I left knowing and liking a lot of people there and feeling that they liked me. At NBC, the only person I really got to know was Curt Gowdy. That's an exaggeration, of course, but the point is, I'm much more comfortable at ABC. I do the same thing I was doing at NBC, but instead of doing it on Sunday afternoons, I do it on Monday nights, when the exposure is greater. To me, it's like, why play in Greenwich, Connecticut, when you can be on Broadway? I had an opportunity to go back and I took it.

[Q] Playboy: You went back to a job that you were very eager to leave just three years ago. Has the job changed--or have you?

[A] Meredith: A little bit of both, I think. Before I went to NBC, acting was a very important consideration to me, and it still is. At the time, ABC had a different management setup on its entertainment side; maybe I hadn't pushed my acting quite as hard as I might have, but ABC really wasn't interested in me other than for Monday Night Football. There are very few secrets in television. My contract was up--I'd finished my fourth year--and I was either going to sign with ABC or go someplace else. Well, NBC offered me a chance to do fewer ball games, ten a year, and implied that I'd be used quite a bit in entertainment shows. That was the important part: I'd become more involved in acting. I also think NBC wanted me off Monday Night Football, and that was fine with me: I felt that if I were going to give acting a serious run, Monday Night Football was getting to be too strong an identification. I thought that being part of the Monday-night trio would make it very difficult for people to find me believable if they saw me doing anything else. That still might be a problem.

[Q] Playboy: We don't doubt that what you say is true, but people who work with you at ABC believe the real reason you left was that you were in some way disturbed by the telecast's huge success. Are they wrong?

[A] Meredith: In a way, that did bother me. Almost from the first game, it was like being on a hit series, and maybe Arledge knew that Monday Night Football would work out like that, but I don't think anyone else did. Our ratings kept picking up steam throughout our first season, and by the second year, all kinds of things would happen when we'd go into a town: The mayor would greet us, there'd be ribbon-cutting ceremonies, breakfasts, luncheons, cocktail parties--it was a carnivallike atmosphere, and you can get tired of going to the carnival. And then there were the speaking engagements. When you're hot, you're hot--and we were hot. I think I spoke at 47 sports banquets in three months, and I finally realized it wasn't Monday Night Football that was bothering me so much, it was myself. If you want to speak at sports banquets, there are so many of 'em around that you can pick up good bread doing it, but I really didn't want to do it and now I choose not to do it. But when Monday Night Football started, we were kind of obligated to ABC to promote the show, and there's still a little more of an obligation that way than I'd like to see. Anyway, after four years of it, I found that I just got tired, and I expect I'll get tired again.

[Q] Playboy: Why?

[A] Meredith: Because, physically, the travel is tough to take. I don't fly well; my head stops up every time I get on a plane and, unlike players who have half their games at home, just about all of ours are on the road. That really does get tiring; by the end of the season, you kind of meet yourself coming and going from airports and hotels. I just hope that I've got the thing in a little better focus now.

[Q] Playboy: Did you see any proof of that during the past season?

[A] Meredith: I think so. One thing I never really liked about Monday Night Football was the emphasis on the announcers. I always felt that the emphasis should be on the ball game, but now I can understand what makes us different from Sunday games: We're on in prime time, so there almost has to be more entertainment involved.

[Q] Playboy: How do you define your duties on Monday Night Football?

[A] Meredith: I'm an impartial social observer. Isn't that what I am? No? Well, how about just plain social observer? What I try to do is pick up on things most people don't, and then point them out in a way that will make the game a little more fun to watch. By now, I have a fairly good knowledge of football and I definitely think there are occasions when I can spot what makes a particular play work or not work. For instance, on interceptions, I'm said to be notoriously protective of quarterbacks. Well, that's the only position I feel I know a great deal about, and if a quarterback throws a bad pass, I don't hesitate to say so. But I'll also check out the part of the frame you might not see on your TV screen, and if I see that one receiver ran the wrong pass pattern or that another forgot to check-block the linebacker before he went out, I'll mention that. I think that's informative; not earth-shaking, but that's what my quarterback experience is good for. You know the way the Air Force uses flash cards to teach pilots how to identify foreign aircraft? Well, it's almost the same thing with quarterbacks and films of offensive plays. Teams break down their game films into offensive and defensive plays, and after you watch those films for a while--and I watched 'em for a really long time--you start relating to 'em like flash cards. The plays get into your head and you kinda feel like one of Pavlov's dogs. So I can see what goes wrong with a play that starts off well and doesn't develop as it should. I can see things that aren't there. Isn't that amazing? That's why I'm considered an expert analyst. But I've never really considered that a proper handle. I still like impartial social observer.

[Q] Playboy: Does the impartial social observer ever find it difficult to sandwich in his observations between Frank Gifford's play-by-play and Howard Cosell's commentary?

[A] Meredith: No problem there. I'm responsible for talking about the action the first time the replay is shown, which is also what color commentators do on the other networks. Only thing is, I think we show too many replays. I think we should look for something other than a situation where I'm going to have to say, "Well, you can see it right there, he went off right tackle, yes, sir, there he goes. Off right tackle." That kind of play makes it very tough to keep from repeating yourself.

[Q] Playboy: Is that one of the more difficult aspects of your job?

[A] Meredith: Sure it is, but when I started out, the most difficult thing was trying to hold my train of thought with the plugs in my ears and the director talking to me and, at the same time, trying not to step on somebody else's lines while saying what I wanted to say in 20 seconds. It was a matter of adapting to the time span. I would try to explain what had happened, but by the time I'd explained it, three other plays had gone by, which was definitely a handicap to my broadcasting future. Also, the folks at ABC said I had an accent.

[Q] Playboy: Don't believe 'em, Don. They have the accent. Most of them don't even come from Texas.

[A] Meredith: I never really did believe them. They said I had a drawl and that I talked slowly. Of course, it did seem to take me forever to say something like, "What he really was trying to do was, he had the end out there a little bit and he was trying to get him on the inside," and I'd go on and on, until I learned a slightly different vocabulary that could fit the time frame of the medium.

[Q] Playboy: Since you obviously didn't know what you were doing when you started out on Monday Night Football, how were you able to get the job?

[A] Meredith: Fate, it must have been fate. Actually, it's a fairly involved story. I retired from football after the 1968 season. I'd just played out the first year of a three year contract with the Dallas Cowboys, which made it kinda difficult to quit--I was making $100,000 a year, and that's a heck of a lot of money. But I'd had it for a combination of reasons. One had to do with a play-off game the Cowboys played against Cleveland in '68. We had a beautiful game plan backed up by at feast 14 game films of the Browns, and we were ready for them. We knew, for instance, that they would always do the same things defensively against a certain offensive formation, and so we worked on plays to beat their defense. Well, when the game started and we got the ball, I called a pass play, dropped back, read the keys and threw--and a guy intercepted my pass. All of a sudden, it hit me: The Browns weren't doing what they were supposed to do! There's a point where you can rely on the system too much, and that's when it's gotten you--and when I went to the side lines, that was the cloud hanging over my head. The same thing happened twice more during that game, and by the end of it, I'd lost what I really believed in most. I couldn't get over it. The Browns just wouldn't do what they were supposed to do. I left the field thinking, Wow, I have gone too far, they have gotten into my head. And then I thought, They can't have that.

Well, I didn't retire right then, but the following summer, I was in Augusta, Georgia, filming a commercial and it was almost time to report to the Cowboys' training camp in Thousand Oaks, California. That's when the decision was made. I thought of going back to my same little room in training camp; of going to bed at 11 and getting up at seven; of going to meetings and two-a-day practices; of starting off again with things like dive right and dive left; of getting on my little bus and going to the quarterbacks' room--and I didn't want to do any of it anymore. So while I was flying home from Augusta, just grazing along up there in the clouds, I said to myself, OK, kid, what is it? We know what's coming up--we've been there before. Is that what you want to do? The answer was no. If that's all there was to the circus, it was time to break out the booze and dance.

[Q] Playboy: Is that when you decided to go into broadcasting?

[A] Meredith: Nope. I immediately went from $100,000 a season as a football player to $1000 a month as a stockbroker. After getting my license as a stockbroker, I went into business with my brother and some other guys in Dallas. I knew I wasn't going to be a stockbroker all my life, but it was a way out of football for me.

[Q] Playboy: How did you do as a broker?

[A] Meredith: I was a miserable failure. I just couldn't make cold calls. I remember the thing that got me out of it in a hurry. One day, I went to see a man in Dallas who had bookoos and bookoos of money--the guy was a sports fan and a pretty active trader. I'd learned all these things about how you sell a new customer, so when I called on the guy, I gave him our spiel: We were a small regional firm and occasionally we'd have unique investment opportunities because of the companies we were close to, so we'd like to call on him from time to time.

Well, this guy was smoking a big ole cigar in his big ole office, and after I finished, he leaned back in his big ole chair and said, "I'll tell you what, Don. I like you. I've always liked you. I do some investing, as you know, so every now and then, I'll make it a point to throw you a bone."

I walked out of there thinking, Shit, man, I can't handle that. He's gonna throw me a bone? To use a cliché, you expect that your name is gonna get your foot in the door. Well, all it meant to me was that somebody was gonna slam it on my foot.

[Q] Playboy: Didn't you enter the brokerage business just as the stock market began to fall?

[A] Meredith: I certainly did; timed it just right. In addition to that, I really didn't and don't have a genuine feel for the handling of securities. Never touch 'em myself, which can be a definite handicap to someone who wants to be a stockbroker. But I stayed with it for a few months and then went to Africa for five weeks to hunt cape buffalo for the American Sportsman TV show. My first day over there, they told me that the cape buffalo is one of only five animals in the world that will attack man on sight. That wasn't very comforting; I'm basically a coward. Besides, I had nothing against cape buffalo, and I hoped they had nothing against me. I just wanted that trip because I was restless and uncomfortable with what I'd been doing. It was a great example of escapism.

[Q] Playboy: Did you resolve anything while you were over there?

[A] Meredith: Yes, I really did. When you're camped out on the Zambezi River and you see and hear all those animals in their own environment--hey, it's not a zoo, they're there. Africa is just so alive, you can't help being overwhelmed by it. And, somehow, being there gave me an opportunity to re-evaluate myself and what I was doing with my life. What I resolved was this: I had to start making better choices and more honest choices. I knew something was out of sync. For instance, the guy in Dallas who wanted to throw me a bone--I'd overreacted to that, but I still considered it a demeaning situation. I realized that we all prostitute ourselves, to a degree, but it's the degree that we must try to control. So I began making plans to get out of what I was doing, and after I came back from Africa, I bluffed my way through the stockbroking song and dance until spring and then called Frank Gifford. I'd gotten to know Frank through playing against him and meeting him at different functions, and I was confident I could ask him about TV work and he wouldn't say he'd throw me a bone. I knew if there was something Frank could do, he'd do it and, if not, he'd tell me so.

I don't know whether you can imagine this or not, but at that time in my life, I was fairly sensitive about people throwing me bones. Things just weren't going right for me. When I called Frank, I'd basically run out of all my cash. I was a guy who'd played nine seasons of pro football and had earned top dollar, and one year out and all of a sudden, I was broke.

[Q] Playboy: Where did all your money go?

[A] Meredith: Well, I'd deferred some of it and the rest just kind of went away. So I said to myself, I want something to help me make it through the fall. I want to pick up a little change, and I think I can get it by doing football on TV.

Anyway, when Frank got back to me, he told me that, yes, CBS was interested. In the meantime, he'd flown somewhere with Roone and had mentioned my name to him. Roone said he wanted to talk to me and that I was to call him. I called, and Arledge never called me back. So I called him again, and again I didn't get a call back. By then, I'd talked to CBS and they said yes, they wanted to do a deal and that I was to go to New York and close it out. I was going to do regional telecasts of Cowboy games, and the day I was leaving Texas to meet with the CBS guys, Roone finally returned my call. He gave me all his reasons for not getting back to me and I was very brash. I told him, "Hey, I just want to see you and tell you what a horse's ass I think you are." He didn't know whether I was teasing or not. I didn't, either. When I got to New York, the CBS people offered me $20,000 for the season and I told them I appreciated it--and that I was going to meet Arledge. I said something like, "I don't think I'm going to ask for a ridiculous amount of money and there's no way he's going to do it, anyway, but I have an appointment and I'm not going to come back and bargain with you. I accept your offer as being legitimate and I appreciate it."

Roone and I went to Toots Shor's restaurant, where we drank our lunch and shook hands on a $30,000 deal.

[Q] Playboy: Had you been more interested in Monday-night games than in the Sunday variety?

[A] Meredith: I wasn't interested in any of it. I wasn't interested in football at all. I was just interested in saying, "OK, this is something I can do, and right now, I don't have anything else going for me." Which wasn't quite the truth. Burt Reynolds is a friend of mine, and his agent, a guy named Dick Clayton, had gotten me a screen test in '66. I'd been out to Los Angeles to play in a couple of Pro Bowl games and Dick and a few people I met there felt I could go to Hollywood after I retired and give acting a shot. By then, I'd done some commercials and a TV show in Dallas on which I'd reviewed film clips and so forth--one of your typical coach's-corner-type shows. So I felt that I at least had a chance to do something in the entertainment business, but whether it would be television or movies I didn't know. Clayton told me it would help if I went to Hollywood, but I couldn't see myself making that move right then. That's what my situation was when I started working for ABC.

[Q] Playboy: In his Playboy Interview, Cosell told us that before Monday Night Football went on the air, you, he and Keith Jackson worked an exhibition game as a test and that you were so depressed by your performance you were ready to chuck the whole thing and go back to Texas--until Cosell convinced you to stay on. Was that the case?

[A] Meredith: I always appreciate Howard's interpretation of what went on that day. He tells that story all the time, and every time he tells it, I come off a little bit more frightened. The last time I heard it, I think I'd made it all the way to the airport before he saved me and brought me back to ABC. The thing I remember is that I didn't know anything about Howard Cosell. I'd met him one time at an awards show, where he was doing interviews. Several people had told me to be careful, but I didn't know what they meant.

[Q] Playboy: Had you seen him work?

[A] Meredith: No. I'd never seen Cosell on television, and I don't even know if he was on television at that time. Was he?

[Q] Playboy: Yes, he was. In those days, Cosell's TV career was mainly limited to boxing telecasts, often of Muhammad Ali's bouts.

[A] Meredith: Well, I don't like boxing, so I guess that explains it. I never watch boxing. Anyway, when we did that test broadcast, I felt very sorry for him.

[Q] Playboy: Why?

[A] Meredith: Well, I don't know what they were saying in Cosell's ear, but in my earphone, they were really all over him. Everybody was new at it, of course, and, granted, I had no idea of what I was doing. But they screamed and yelled at him, and Howard got mad and pouted and wouldn't say a thing for an entire quarter. Keith did the play-by-play that first year, and I was sittin' in the booth with them and thinkin', What am I doing in Detroit?

My disappointment wasn't so much about my performance as it was about, What is all this? Why am I doing this? In any case, I was not very good. I caught myself repeating almost every cliché I'd heard sports announcers use, and even while I was doing it, I was thinking, This is just awful. It was awful when they said it, and it's twice as awful when I say it. Terrific original lines: "He really got his foot into that one, didn't he, folks?" "Bango, look at those two guards pulling out in front of the runner." I even said, "Hello, football fans everywhere." Just awful.

[Q] Playboy: How long did it take you to improve?

[A] Meredith: Not too many games, actually. It turned out that there weren't as many things to learn as I'd anticipated. I think that's where my major mistakes were during that practice run. I saw all of that equipment and I didn't know what any of those people did up there, so I assumed it must be very, very difficult. In that first game at Detroit, I think I had six monitors in front of me. The idea was that I'd help Chet Forte, our director, point his cameras by anticipating things. Unfortunately, I used the only terminology I knew, which was coach Tom Landry's terminology--green right, triple X open power, 49 E-G-O, things like that. It was very simple for me, but there I was, trying to teach Forte Landry's entire system, which I hadn't really learned in nine years of playing for the Cowboys. It was all very confusing.

[Q] Playboy: In spite of that, you still managed to win an Emmy that first season. Did it surprise you?

[A] Meredith: A little bit. I think they gave it to me for that year's Dallas--St. Louis game. The Cowboys were favored, and St. Louis beat 'em 38--0. It was my first broadcast of a Dallas game and I was excited about it. I was really prepared--boy, I had more information than you can possibly imagine. I talked to everybody. I had the Cowboys' game plan in my hand, knew what they'd do all over the field--had it down. I was ready. And they didn't do any of it. I mean, it was just the worst game you've ever seen. Everything the Cowboys tried went wrong. I got so into it that I finally apologized for the Cowboys. I said something like, "I don't know what the heck they're doin' out there, but I've never seen anything like it in my life." It was just a total emotional involvement with a particular team, and I wound up saying whatever came to my mind.

[Q] Playboy: Was it difficult for you to become objective about your job?

[A] Meredith: I don't believe so. In terms of my actual performance on the air, during that first year, I'd call up Gifford every week--he was my critic. And I'd try to watch Frank's games, 'cause, at that time, he was doing the same thing for CBS that I was doing for ABC. Frank, of course, joined Monday Night Football after our first season. Keith, a really smooth and delightful guy, was assigned to ABC's college games and came out with a much better deal for himself. I was really pleased with the shift, because it meant my pal was coming over. Since I was going to have to travel to all those cities, with Frank around, it would be more like taking a weekend vacation. In the meantime, I'd gotten to know Howard. He happens to be very entertaining and he's really fun to be with--as long as he holds everything under control. He has tendencies like all of us to let it slip sometimes, but, by and large, he really is a lot of fun.

[Q] Playboy: Once Gifford joined the show, you and he almost seemed to come off as Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid--with Cosell being cast as a black-hatted villain audiences love to hiss. Has that caused any problems among the three of you?

[A] Meredith: No, and I feel Howard handles it extremely well. Howard became an immediate star through Monday Night Football--and whether he wears a black hat or a white hat, he's a celebrity, and a big one. Frank and I, through our athletic careers, had each been dealing with being a celebrity for a fairly long period of time--though not necessarily on the same level, because television is much bigger than the athletic things we'd done. I think becoming a celebrity was a bit more of a shock for Howard than it was for us; don't forget that Cosell was 50 years old when it happened, and when you come into it late, it might be a little more difficult to deal with. And as far as Howard's being criticized--I'm using your thought now--and our being applauded, well, Howard's never been malicious about it or allowed it to interfere with what we do on the air.

[Q] Playboy: In various polls, Cosell has ranked as the least-liked sports broadcaster in the nation, and reactions to him often tend to be almost vicious. Does that surprise you?

[A] Meredith: Not completely, because I think that when Howard burst onto the scene, he shocked our rather staid culture to the extent that he was immediately rejected. After that, the reaction to him turned into heavy frustration and then aggressive rejection. I think now the pendulum's starting to swing his way a little bit and people are starting to listen and respond to what he says. And yet, when you walk through a stadium with Howard, the reaction to him is almost frightening.

[Q] Playboy: In what sense? Do you feel physically threatened?

[A] Meredith: Absolutely, and that's a very frightening thing. I don't like crowds to begin with, but to walk through one with Howard--man, people shout all kinds of things at him. And they're not kidding around. I've heard curse words yelled at him, we've had bomb threats--people can be very violent toward Howard. One time in Miami, Cosell got a letter threatening his life, and I don't remember exactly what it said, but, for some reason, it had a ring of reality to it. Howard had been getting a lot of criticism in Miami because people held him responsible for the fact that highlights of the Dolphin games weren't shown at half time. He had nothing to do with choosing which highlights were shown, and finally had to begin announcing that on the air. Well, the letter said something to the effect that he was going to get it when he got to Miami, and at first, we didn't pay any attention to it. Cosell had received a few of those before and they'd always been from cranks. But this one just didn't seem like a crank letter, so we had a police escort when we got to the Orange Bowl. To get to the press box there, you have to walk across a little catwalk and you're briefly exposed to the crowd. Well, that night, there were policemen at both ends of the catwalk, but when we walked across it, hey, it was just frightening.

[Q] Playboy: Why?

[A] Meredith: Because as we started across it, there was a rumble from the crowd. The whole psychology of crowds--it's really wild. You can get them turned one way or the other and you never really know what's going to happen. Maybe I'm exaggerating a little, but I occasionally do fear physical harm when we do those games. I don't envy Howard's position at all, but I guess a certain degree of that goes with being Howard Cosell.

[Q] Playboy: Does it seem strange to you that people can get so worked up over such trivial things as half-time highlights and the men who announce football games?

[A] Meredith: Oh, I think it's strange, all right. Unfortunately, Howard is a perfect foil for a lot of frustrations that are running rampant through our society in general and in the sports community in particular. That's a very volatile community. If you win, then your team is really fantastic and the whole community is really up. If your team loses, the community is really down--and there are more losing teams than winners. When it gets toward the end of a season, everyone realizes that there's gonna be only one winner, and I think it causes certain tensions to build up. And because Monday Night Football is national, Howard is, too, and people focus their frustrations on him.

[Q] Playboy: What makes him such a perfect foil?

[A] Meredith: Physical characteristics--the way he looks. The way he sounds. Howard's a New York Jew and he has all the things that set him up for bigotry and abuse. He's been accused of everything from loving blacks to hating blacks, and the complaints run the spectrum. Whatever it is, he's accused of it. His delivery, his vocabulary--when he uses that vocabulary with that delivery, one tends to think that he's talking down to one. Throwing you a bone, so to speak. And I think that's the most offensive thing about Howard.

[Q] Playboy: Has Cosell thrown you bones, so to speak?

[A] Meredith: Well, he used to needle me about different things, my inability to do this or that, and he'd tease me about the Cowboys, but that never really offended me. I used to get uptight, though, when he'd occasionally pick on Frank for not identifying a player right--Howard loved to do that. I'd really get mad, because I felt that was unnecessary. It was like somebody's picking on my brother. Look out: I can say what I want to about him, but don't you say anything about him. So I'd get upset, but Howard's so doggone clever he might have been doing it 'cause maybe I was going to sleep or he was trying to get a rise out of me. I don't know what the heck he's doing out there sometimes. What he mostly does is this: He does his number.

[Q] Playboy: What does that number consist of?

[A] Meredith: Howard just knows what works. He is one of the top personalities in the United States of America and he didn't get there by accident. He's smart; he knows what to do. His talent lies in the area of presenting things the way no one else can present them. If you'd heard as many Howard Cosell imitations as I have, you'd realize the impact of the man's style--and he created that style. I think Howard can go too far with it, and I've told him that, but in other areas, I don't think he goes far enough.

[Q] Playboy: For instance?

[A] Meredith: Politics. Three or four years ago, he talked about wanting to run for the Senate, and if more people had taken him seriously, he definitely would've run for the office. I think Howard would make a very good Senator, because he has a way of getting in and doing things like nobody else can. As I say, I have tremendous respect for him. There's no one else like Howard on any network, on any show. He is that different.

[Q] Playboy: If that's true--and leaving aside the matter of his style--what can Cosell do that other sports announcers can't?

[A] Meredith: I think Howard is the finest interviewer in America. That's when he's at his best, and he's proved it with Ali, with Joe Namath and with Tom Seaver during the last World Series. In terms of football broadcasts, I think he needs to be complemented by a Frank and a Don. He'll still be Howard, but he can be a better Howard if he has the right ingredients to play with. To me, Monday Night Football is like the presentation of a three-character play, and every one of us has to do well or else the whole thing will be out of sync. True, Howard spouts off and probably talks too much in trying to sum up too many things--but he makes it easy to work in that booth, because he's always going to say something totally outlandish that'll be fun to play off. Howard also tries to answer questions that he's asked me or Frank, or he may try to comment when it's Frank's turn to talk. But that's part of the madness that goes on in the very short time that we have to talk about each play.

What I see now that I didn't see my first time around is a more clearly defined role--if you'll excuse the word--that each of us plays. I think Howard's interrogations and comments give the broadcast its balance. Frank is a sensational play-by-play guy who's developed a unique style of combining play-by-play with color, and that's because he's done both. Frank is under the heaviest pressure of all of us, because you're not going to notice a lot of what he does until he says something wrong. Howard and I have the flexibility of bluffing, generalizing, philosophizing and being opinionated--and Frank doesn't have that luxury. Frank has to get everything right. I think he's worked very hard at the mechanics of his job, and the reason he's so good is that he adds some of his own expertise as a player to the play-by-play.

[Q] Playboy: That leaves your role to be explained. Cosell once said that you're worth your weight in irreverence, but do you ever feel under the gun to continually come up with satire, songs, sayings and whatever else strikes your fancy during a ball game?

[A] Meredith: I really don't know if I feel that pressure or not. The only thing I know I feel is a responsibility to present whatever it is I'm saying as honestly as I can. But your question ties into the reason I was hesitant about returning to Monday Night Football. I had a fear that the image was bigger than the person--that Dandy Don was coming back and maybe he didn't have that much magic.

[Q] Playboy: Has Dandy Don become your alter ego, or is he just a character you trot out on Monday evenings during the fall?

[A] Meredith: I think I looked at it more as an alter ego a few years ago, but I'm not really sure anymore. Sometimes I'll say certain things and later on, when I look back at them, I'll think, Right, that's what Dandy Don would have said. I'll tell you this, I like Dandy Don more than I did a few years ago. I used to think he was some sort of buffoon, but now I don't. He's just one of your basic, fun-loving guys who kind of floats along.

[Q] Playboy: When did you first become aware of Dandy Don, Dandy Don?

[A] Meredith: In a way, he kind of got his start when I was maybe 12 years old and I went to the movies and saw James Stewart in Harvey. That was the name of the imaginary rabbit he talked to and, not having much of an imagination, I called mine Harvey, too. But my Harvey wasn't a rabbit. As I remember, he really wasn't anything, at least not anything I could see. He was just Harvey. He then became Harley, but later on, he got himself an older brother named Harvey. He also got himself a last name and a profession: Harley Smydlapp of Smydlapp, Smydlapp and Calhoun, which is a large fact-finding organization.

[Q] Playboy: Where are they located? In your head?

[A] Meredith: Oh, no, they're everywhere, and they're retained by the American public to find out what's going on. Harley, of course, is the president of Smydlapp, Smydlapp and Calhoun. Knowing Harley, I can tell you that the man's a natural in that he doesn't really treat fact finding as a profession. He's somewhat spongelike and just absorbs.

[Q] Playboy: Did Dandy Don grow out of your acquaintance with Harley?

[A] Meredith: I suppose so, though I can't really be sure. To me, Dandy Don was the quarterback. That got started in college; people would write about this quarterback, but I could separate the quarterback and myself, 'cause I knew they really weren't the same. Playing quarterback was just one of the things that I could do. People called the quarterback Dandy Don the same way blacksmiths were once called smithies.

[Q] Playboy: Did Dandy Don take football as seriously as the rest of Texas seems to?

[A] Meredith: Football is taken seriously everywhere, not just in Texas, but you hear it said more about Texas because they have very good high school football down there. I grew up in Mt. Vernon, a small town of 1400 people, and for me, athletics, school and church--that's about all there was to do. It was just a natural thing to play football and I started out with good vibes about it. It was fun, it was healthy and I could do it, so I enjoyed it. I liked basketball better and when I graduated from high school, I was All-State in both sports. I figured every college needed a 6'3" pivot man who shot a lot. The more astute scouts who recruited me realized, I think, that I wouldn't be able to play center. The question was, could I shoot from the outside? I wasn't really that good, but everything's relative.

[Q] Playboy: How many scholarship offers did you receive?

[A] Meredith: A whole bunch, and it got a little crazy at times. Mt. Vernon is in northeast Texas, about 100 miles from Dallas and 85 miles from Texarkana, but a lot of coaches seemed to be passing through town during my senior year. I wound up traveling a bit myself. Went to Oklahoma, Arkansas, Louisiana, other parts of Texas--I suppose I did get a lot of offers, or at least feelers. I also heard from schools outside the Southwest like West Point, Colorado, Notre Dame and UCLA. But, to me, the decision was whether Austin--the University of Texas--was too far from home. I knew it was as soon as I took my first plane ride, to visit Texas Tech in Lubbock. My mother went along and we flew in an old DC-3. The day we went to Lubbock, West Texas had its worst dust storm in 30 years and we were right in the middle of it. I got sicker than a dog and threw up: I didn't take to airplanes right off. Never have, really.

[Q] Playboy: Did you get any outrageous offers?

[A] Meredith: The most extravagant one I got was from an alumnus of a college that didn't have a law school. I'd decided I'd be a lawyer, and this one guy offered to put in writing his promise to personally send me to any law school in the country that I wanted to attend. That same guy offered me $1000 a month during the summer, which was just a whole lot of money in 1956. That was still a very placid time in America--there was a lot of apple pie and flag waving and motherhood around, and recruiting was less outrageous than it is today. I mostly got offered cars and jobs, plus one school offered to make my high school coach an assistant dorm director. But it never got too far out of hand, because all along I had it pretty well in mind that I'd go to Southern Methodist University. So I went to SMU and broke my ankle playing freshman football and didn't get to play freshman basketball. I still wanted to, though, and I went out for the team in my sophomore year. My illusion of playing big-time basketball was thrown back into my face about as rapidly as my hook shot was.

[Q] Playboy: Did that upset you?

[A] Meredith: No, I really didn't care. I was happy doing what I was doing. I had a good year in football and I'd already figured that was what I'd probably concentrate on. It was just like playing sand-lot ball, and I had a really good time. Football was fun at SMU. We'd make up plays in the huddle, and that was fine with our coach, a nice man named Bill Meek, who now lives in Salt Lake City. I was definitely a hot dog and I loved to hot-dog around. We wound up using a spread formation and one of my favorite plays was real simple. I'd say, "OK, hike the ball and let's see who can get open--you guys hold 'em if you want to."

[Q] Playboy: Was that more fun than the N.F.L.'s brand of football?

[A] Meredith: It was a totally different kind of fun. The fun part of any team sport is when you've got a lot of good players around you and you're part of an over-all concept of fine athletes doing what they do well and transmitting their enjoyment of that fact to one another.

[Q] Playboy: Was that the case when you were graduated from SMU and began playing for the Dallas Cowboys?

[A] Meredith: No, because the Cowboys were an expansion team about to start their first year in the N.F.L. I was in for a heck of a shock, because I was certain that playing for the Cowboys would be a kind of continuation of college. At SMU, I was president of the freshman class and dated the home-coming queen, and I was sure I'd also be president of the Cowboys' freshman class. Well, it didn't work out that way. Tom Landry was a very remote, totally different kind of coach than I'd ever run into. And all of a sudden, he put me on the bench, and I didn't know what that was. I'd never sat on a bench in my life.

Anyway, my first couple of years there were very tough to take. We didn't have a good team, plus I was on the bench. My personal life wasn't in good shape, either. I'd gotten married right out of college--married the campus queen--and in one year, we were divorced, remarried and divorced again.

[Q] Playboy: Arledge has said he believes that playing for the Cowboys "scarred" you. Do you agree with that?

[A] Meredith: No, it didn't scar me. Physically, I have some scars to show for having played in Dallas, but, considering my body, those scars would have showed up had I played anywhere else. The stories about my troubles with the Cowboys often had to do with the clash of two giant egos--mine and Landry's. I was bound and determined not to go along with all the regimentation of his system. The Cowboys have a reputation for being pro football's most computerized team, and they probably are. In retrospect, I probably was wrong in being as adamant as I was in fighting Landry's system. If I were doing it again, I'd try to be more aware of his approach in structuring the game. I did follow a lot of the rules and worked within that system because it happens to be a good system. But there was a lot of it that I didn't like and did my best to flat-out resist.

[Q] Playboy: What kinds of things did you resist?

[A] Meredith: Just about everything, from curfews to the fine system. I felt that we should've had a more relaxed atmosphere, which I still believe is more conducive to bringing out the best in the individual. I think there's been a great change in the game and that it's become more and more regimented. Coaches have eliminated the margin of error and the play is more sophisticated--which tends to erode the ability of the athlete to blend in and adapt to different situations. The biggest argument I had with Landry had to do with who called the offensive plays. When Eddie Le Baron left and I replaced him, Landry wanted to call all the plays, as he does now. I think he knew me enough to know that wouldn't work out very well, and since I was all he had, he made some allowances that he probably wouldn't make now.

[Q] Playboy: What kind of allowances did you have to make?

[A] Meredith: Well, Tom was the coach, so I'm not sure that I had any allowances to make. Landry is single-minded in his purpose; his purpose is to win football games and he approaches it in a very analytical way. I don't think there's an executive in any of the top ten corporations in the U. S. who spends the number of hours that man does in running his business. He is very prepared. In a real way, I've always had great admiration for him. Incidentally, he has a lovely wife; she's bright, sharp and cute, and they seem to be really happy. I just can't believe anybody as neat and sweet as she is would put up for so many years with someone who seems so totally cold. Tom's really not a bad guy, and I'm sure that he's got his own Harvey or Harley or Dandy Don.

[Q] Playboy: Have Landry's coaching methods changed since you met him?

[A] Meredith: I think the only thing that's changed is that the Cowboys have learned to execute his system a lot better. Landry took his concept with him and utilized it from the time he arrived in Dallas. One of the key elements for any team, whether you're computerized or not, is having the right players to plug into those positions, and Tom didn't have a lot of top material to work with at the beginning. He brought in a sophisticated version of the option play, we used a man in motion, we shifted--we did a lot of things. But since all the teams basically know what the other teams will be doing, it still boils down to a question of who has the best horses out there. Anyway, it was a much different approach and an abrupt change from what I'd known, but I guess that happens one way or another to everyone who gets out of college. You think you're going to go out and conquer the world--and you find you have some reckoning to do. As I said, I really couldn't understand why I wasn't playing, but it wasn't that big of a deal. I really did figure that I'd eventually get in there.

[Q] Playboy: How long was it before you were playing regularly?

[A] Meredith: My third year. By then, we'd started to get some good players. Bobby Hayes came in in '65 and Ralph Neely about the same time. We were beginning to get guys who could catch and run and block and tackle; it's remarkable how much more fun football can be when you have good players on your team. Meanwhile, I was always getting hurt. Broken ankle, nose, ribs, thumbs, shoulder separations--it was always something. In '66, though, I stayed healthy almost the entire season, and after six years with it, I finally had confidence in Landry's system. But I insisted on calling my own plays. I'd just say, "Tom, I don't want to talk to you--just slip your game plan under the door." That really shocked him, but I was able to pick what I wanted from his game plans and we had a great year. We finished the season playing Green Bay, with the winner to go on to the first Super Bowl. They beat us, but that '66 championship game was one of the most enjoyable games I ever had as a pro. It was an exceptional experience for me.

[Q] Playboy: Even though you lost?

[A] Meredith: Losing didn't bother us. We were kind of like young stallions, with most of the guys 25 or 26, and nobody was supposed to beat Green Bay that year. We had a great game plan, we were ready and it wasn't going to make any difference if we didn't beat 'em. It was a heck of a game. We kicked off to the Packers and they scored, and then they kicked off to us and we fumbled and Green Bay went in for another touchdown and the score was 14--0--and me and the guys on the offensive team were still on the side lines, waiting to take the field. We caught up to them and tied the score, then they went ahead again 21--20, and then 34--27, and we got down to the two-yard line and didn't make it and that was it. We weren't expected to even come close to beating the Packers, and suddenly people started saying, "Hey, those guys are really good." We were good, all right, but we weren't that good. The next year, we were that good. We had a much better team in '67 and should easily have beaten the Packers in that subzero championship game.

[Q] Playboy: Is there any particular reason you didn't?

[A] Meredith: If this is a cop-out, it's a cop-out: I really believe the frozen field hurt us more than it did Green Bay. True, both teams had to play on the same field. I would love to have played the Packers in the rain, in a windstorm, in the desert--anywhere we could've gotten some kind of footing. But the Packers' field was totally frozen--and on offense, we were a speed team. We had wide splits in the line, we ran a lot of trap plays and our passing game concentrated on deep patterns and quick-cutting routes designed to spread their defenses. We couldn't do any of that on a frozen field.

[Q] Playboy: You retired after the following season at an age--29--when most quarterbacks are just hitting the peak of their careers. Did you ever have second thoughts about that decision?

[A] Meredith: Yes, I did. After the first year of Monday Night Football, I felt I had a different perspective on playing, particularly for the Cowboys. Playing for Dallas had become a hassle, but having been away from it for a while, I thought I'd be able to go back and deal with it better. I felt that maybe I'd gotten a little too close to the forest to see the trees. But that was the only time I ever considered going back. My first year out, I didn't even think about playing and I watched very few games.

[Q] Playboy: Is that unusual for players who quit the N.F.L.?

[A] Meredith: It probably is, because there're a lot of things you can miss when you retire. Any sport, really, is a terrific outlet of expression, and whether you're running, jumping, throwing, kicking, hitting--whatever--it's there. I found an almost sensuous pleasure in football, in the sense that you experience it with your body. My nose was broken 14 times on various football fields, and I can't tell you that I loved getting my nose broken, but it's really something to experience that kind of shock, to have the shock lessen and to then go beyond it. I remember feeling the warmth of the blood running out of my nose after it had been broken, and I know this sounds weird, but physically, there's pleasure in being able to extend yourself, in knowing you can take yourself a step further. I suppose that's tied to a physical macho identification we get programed with very early in life. We're seeing a softening of it now, but for a long time, sport was one way of defining what it means to be a man. And football, I think, represented a kind of hard-core masculinity that baseball and basketball didn't.

Football also has, like every other sport, the immediacy of result. You can see things happen, you know what the requirements are and one of the biggest thrills of playing is the feeling of accomplishment it gives you. I mean, it feels good. And what frequently happens is that professional athletes miss those thrills so much they try to recapture them the rest of their lives. They become real bores in reliving all those moments, which usually become more glorious and more dramatic than they ever were. Guys like that meet with a great deal of frustration, because they'll try to duplicate something that can't be duplicated for several reasons, the most obvious of which is physical.

[Q] Playboy: Were you able to avoid that frustration?

[A] Meredith: It really wasn't tough on me at all. The reason I left with two years to go on my contract was that I could tell myself, I don't want to do this anymore. There are other extensions that I care to challenge in my life and my personality. But it would've been a terrible shame if I hadn't been able to extend myself in sports. I really loved playing football; my heart was in the game and I'm delighted I played it for 24 years. I know what it feels like and I don't feel I have to do it again.

I've also been lucky in that I've found other interests that give me pleasure. They may not seem like adequate substitutes to some people, but they are to me. I've started to paint. I'm interested in writing and I'll be doing screenplays soon. I'm very interested in acting and I'll be in a couple of ABC-TV films this year. On several counts, I think these things have helped me avoid the identity problem a lot of ex-athletes have: A player will have been on the front pages for several years, and then one autumn it all stops. He'll probably be doing a job that's not nearly as visible, and if you need the same kind of gratification from a job that you got from football, you're in for a tough time.

[Q] Playboy: If anything, your work with ABC has made you far more visible than you ever were as a player. If your telephone call to Gifford hadn't worked out the way it did, do you think you'd have escaped the problems you've just described?

[A] Meredith: I don't know, but I don't worry about it, because it didn't happen like that. I'm sure life would be different for me right now if Frank hadn't come through for me, but I also know that whenever something didn't feel right in my life. I changed it. I like change. I like trying different things. By doing that, I've found I can eliminate those I don't want to do anymore and can identify those I want to go back to. I've climbed a mountain in Colorado; I don't want to climb any more mountains. My wife, Susan, and I got tired of living in cities, so we bought a 22-acre farm in Pennsylvania. For the better part of the past four years, we experienced life on that farm and we loved it, and so did my son, Michael. We still own it, and whenever I'm there and walking around in the fields, I'll think, Isn't life beautiful, isn't life gay, isn't this a perfect way to pass the time of day? And now I'm living in Los Angeles and enjoying our life here. I think that's the key: Enjoy where you are.

Since I really do live like that, it tends to cause a schizoid sort of pattern, in that I flit here and I flit there, which can be interpreted as restlessness. We always want to put labels on things, so call me restless. Call me a cab--I don't care what I'm called, as long as I'm comfortable with what I'm doing. I have my ups and downs, and at times my enthusiasm is greater than at other times, but I don't look for the real high peaks or the low valleys. Neither am I looking for the constant hummmmmmmm that life can become when it's totally predictable and regimented. I like to stay on the up side of that hummmmmmmm.

[Q] Playboy: That shouldn't be a problem, considering how easy it's been for you to go from a successful football career to a successful broadcasting career. Do you ever wonder if perhaps things have come too easily for you?

[A] Meredith: I think one of my biggest problems is that I often have felt that way and haven't given myself credit for making things happen. None of the things I've done have happened just because I was standing in the right place, but that's what you wind up with when you have a background of good, solid East Texas Protestantism. You're brought up to be extremely humble and to kind of walk around saying, "Gosh, everybody else did it," and, "Gee, it was nothing at all." It carries over and you have tendencies to downplay whatever it is that you do. But when things look easy, it doesn't necessarily follow that they are: I've had personal problems and I've had financial problems. I owed money all my life. Most people look at professional athletes and say, "My God, look at all the money they make." When I started out in pro football, I signed for $150,000--a five-year contract, $30,000 a year, and, at that time, that was big money for a player. Well, take almost $15,000 off the top for Uncle Sam, get divorced after a year and see what's left over. My point is, I've had all those wonderful experiences that seem to put hooks in a lot of us and hold us back. I've felt them, didn't like the feeling and have dealt with them. We've always got a choice, and if we don't make one, nothing happens, nothing changes.

[Q] Playboy: If change is the one constant in your life, what kind of commitment do you have to your work?

[A] Meredith: My commitment is to do as well as I can at it. But I'm not consumed by it. I don't broadcast football 12 months a year. Basically, my commitment is to my life and what I'm doing with it--and doing TV football games is only one part of that. Acting is another; I've done a little bit of it and I'll find out pretty soon how much more I really want to do. But the core of my life, the stabilizing part of it, is my relationship with Susan, and I can take that with me wherever we go. We're together almost 24 hours a day, every day, and we like to travel--we travel to cities all over the country and we like to go to different countries and experience different cultures. But people want you to put a tag on you. It's like they're still asking me, "What are you gonna be when you grow up, little boy?" In a way, you just asked me the same thing: "Where you goin', boy?" What am I going to do when I grow up? Hey, I don't want to grow up. What is it that people want that little boy to do when he grows up? Why do I have to have a goal? Why do I have to have a championship? Man, I don't have to have any of that stuff. And I don't. I just want to live the way I want to live. And right now, I have that. Do I have any goals? Yes, I do, but they're not career goals.

[Q] Playboy: What kind of goals are they?

[A] Meredith: They're fantasies. One fantasy is to learn how to sail and get a boat big enough to literally sail around the world in. That would be an outstanding experience. I don't have a desire to do it as an accomplishment; I want to do it just because it would be immensely enjoyable and I'd like to share it with people I care about. I care about Susan. I care about Michael. And I think I will do it. And on that particular trip, I'd love to keep some sort of reflective diary. Really, the idea of sailing into a lagoon, dropping anchor and saying, "Let's stay here for a month" is extremely exciting to me. Think of the pleasure we could have in planning and pulling that sort of thing off. To do it, the number-one qualification you need is flexibility.

[Q] Playboy: Since you've already said you might tire of Monday Night Football, acting and other media trips, do you have any occupational fantasies to fall back on?

[A] Meredith: Sure do. Gifford and I have a running thing about owning a small restaurant and bar in Algiers, with beads hanging down from the doorway and big ceiling fans. Frank's going to be the maitre de, I'll be the bartender and Susan will run the cash register. If Frank can't make it, I might do it myself. One of the things I love about traveling is experiencing the foods of other countries. My kind of restaurant would therefore close down at least three months a year, so that Susan and I could experience different cuisines around the world and if we found things we liked and could prepare, we'd incorporate them on our menu. I'd also like to have a nursery and flower shop at the same place.

I can daydream myself into that sort of existence very easily. I do think about having that kind of restaurant, and if not in Algiers, maybe somewhere along the coast of California. I'd want my house set back on a hill overlooking the Pacific Ocean. But I wouldn't want to depend on the restaurant to earn a living. That's a hard way to make money and I'd like the thing to be fun all the way. I'm sure there's a lot of hassle involved that I don't see, but I choose not to look at it. Thank God I have Susan for the practical side of things. She can deal with that crap. I mean, who are we talking about? I'm America's guest.

"To me, it's like, why play in Greenwich, Connecticut, when you can be on Broadway?"

"I can see what goes wrong with a play that starts off well and doesn't develop as it should. I can see things that aren't there. Isn't that amazing?"

"Roone Arledge finally returned my call. I told him, 'Hey, I just want to tell you what a horse's ass I think you are.'"

"Howard Cosell is a perfect foil for a lot of frustrations that are running rampant through our society in general and in the sports community in particular."

"I like Dandy Don more than I did a few years ago. I used to think he was some sort of buffoon, but now I don't. He's just one of your basic, fun-loving guys."

"Tom Landry has a lovely wife. I just can't believe anybody as neat and sweet as she is would put up for so many years with someone who seems so totally cold. Tom's really not a bad guy."

"I remember the warmth of the blood running out of my nose after it had been broken, and I know this sounds weird, but physically, there's pleasure in being able to extend yourself."