Talent, flash combined to create Namath legend

The legend is so deep and has been carried to such extremes, you have to wonder where it really began for Joe Namath.

It could have been in the coal mining country of Beaver Falls, Pa., but other than the requisite undefeated senior year, the stories hardly reach Namathian proportions.

Then he moved south to play for Bear Bryant at Alabama -- which is where he really began to distinguish himself -- particularly in the 1963 Orange Bowl in a 17-0 victory over Oklahoma. That was the beginning. His persona exploded on the Tuscaloosa campus, on and off the field.

Already,

Joe Namath was a great athlete, but that was only part of his allure.

we knew about the rifle arm, the fearlessness that allowed him to drill the ball between defenders to seemingly covered receivers. Overcoming the first of what seemed like dozens of knee surgeries, he tried but failed to bring the Tide back in the 1965 Orange Bowl against Texas, even though he didn't start.

But it showed his guile. His courage. The talent was only a small part of the package.

This is Joe Willie Namath we're talking about. His style. His charm. The legendary figure didn't really begin to emerge until Sonny Werblin signed him to a then-staggering $427,000, three-year contract with the New York Jets of the American Football League in 1965. He was named rookie of the year in New York.

Namath in New York ... it was a match made for, well, Broadway. And Joe Willie Namath became Broadway Joe Namath. Not only did he impact the Jets and the AFL, Broadway Joe changed the way people viewed football players.

HIS CHARISMA SUPERSEDED THE TALENT as his stardom exploded. Despite the wobbly knees, his quick feet in those flashy white cleats made him a star of stars. His presence was the antithesis of Johnny Unitas in the old high-top spikes, flat-top hairdo and sometimes creaky arm. Namath had long hair, a Fu Manchu mustache and a rocket arm. Namath was Harrison Ford to Unitas' Anthony Hopkins. Both were huge stars - and as far apart in style as could be.

But for all the adoration Namath had lured from the masses, he was still in the AFL. And the AFL was still looked upon as a renegade league with questionable talent. Was Namath the exception, or really not as good as he appeared? The jury was out as he kept racking up huge stats his first four years through the 1968 league championship game victory over the Oakland Raiders.

On to Super Bowl III -- when everything in football changed for good.

Sitting poolside in Miami, surrounded by reporters, Namath guaranteed, "We will win the Super Bowl," despite being nearly three-touchdown underdogs to the Baltimore Colts. The media was joyous, if not humored by the comment; the fans were aghast, his teammates confused.

Now we had the real thing. Most importantly, the Colts were staggered from the beginning -- perhaps by Namath's bold proclamation -- and the Jets won 16-7. No longer were Namath and the AFL the cute pretenders to the big-time NFL ... they earned the right to merge!.

THE TRANSFORMATION WAS complete. Namath had changed football for good. It was more than just style. There was proven substance. It had grown beyond that -- with AFL teams pressing a wide-open passing attack, the NFL teams suddenly understood it was faster to travel via air than land.

Just as simply as Namath was accepted into the NFL, he became a star on the screen. He shaved off his mustache for a commercial. He was a guest star on "The Brady Bunch." He appeared as the "male sex symbol" in movies with Ann Margaret, Linda Evans and Barbara Eden. He was even so bold as to model panty hose that proved just how confident he was in his societal presence.

To this day, no football player has ever had the effect on and off the field of Joe Namath. Even today, at the age of 56 and with plastic knees, Namath remains one of the most prominent sponsorship vehicles on American television.

Talent is one thing. Charisma another. Rarely have the twain met in such a combustible fashion.