NO TWO WAYS ABOUT IT : In Chuck Bednarik’s Book, Gordie Lockbaum Is Just a Real Good Kid

Chuck Bednarik actually got to meet Gordie Lockbaum and, like everybody else, was charmed by the kid.

But there are two-way football players and then there are two-way football players, and Bednarik, the last of the real ones, has not forgotten the distinction.

“You’re not comparing apples to apples,” Bednarik said, not unkindly. “More like apples to crabapples.”

As the last of the dinosaurs, mean-spirited men who stalked the turf 60 minutes a game, Bednarik reserves the right to quibble over Lockbaum’s glory as a two-way player at Holy Cross. Lockbaum, a running back-corner back, has become more of a novelty item than a throwback, famous beyond his talents, kind of the Vanna White of college football.

“I saw him in a game with Lehigh,” Bednarik said. “Great athlete. But two-way player? Gordie Lockbaum is a decoy, more than anything. Once in a while, he’ll run the ball. On defense, they’ll put him in three plays. I’m saying to myself, ‘This guy is not an authentic two-way player.’ Good kid, but . . . “

Bednarik, who wrapped up a 14-year career with the Philadelphia Eagles in 1962, was the genuine article, if not always the good kid.

Here’s what a real two-way player does: At the age of 35, he plays 58 1/2 minutes of football in the 1960 championship game against Green Bay.

“I guess you’re wondering what I was doing that minute and a half,” he said, pausing. “I was taking a rest!”

OK, OK.

“When I played both ways, I was really playing both ways. I was offensive center and linebacker. I was in contact, physical contact, on every single play. I was being hit on every play, not taking a fake handoff or covering some wide receiver.

“I mean, I was snapping punts, tackling on kickoffs and blocking on return teams. Let me tell you, if all I did was play those special teams today, I’d still be making $100,000.”

Today, in an age so specialized that some players get in only on third and long, Lockbaum does indeed stand out for his versatility and stamina. But in 1948, when Bednarik was drafted out of Pennsylvania, the two-way player was hardly a phenomenon. College players did their time, all of it, on a playing field.

Even in the NFL, it was not uncommon. The Eagles drafted him as a center-linebacker, to be used according to their needs, not necessarily his talents. “I was drafted as an all-around,” said the Hall of Famer. “So was just about everybody.”

To be fair to Lockbaum, Bednarik did not spend 14 years flip-flopping on the field. Even in the early ‘50s, pro football was approaching the game with some science in mind. It had passed out of playground sport into a big-money business.

“It was starting to get specialized even in 1949,” he said. “In fact, I had a big lull in the ‘60s until, at 35, I went both ways in four games, including the championship game with Green Bay. At that point I figured, ‘Well, I’ll just play center for another five years. Not that difficult to hike the ball.’ But our linebacker went down in the second game with Cleveland.”

Bednarik had been away from that part of the game for a while. “Then out of the clear blue sky, (Coach) Buck Shaw sends me in on defense. I no longer had any idea what defense was. Somebody told me in the huddle that if it was a running play, I rushed, if it was a pass, I got the first guy out of the backfield.”

It must have worked out fine, although Bednarik obviously had some adjustment problems. In fact, Cleveland Coach Paul Brown laughed kind of loud when Bednarik got blocked near the Browns’ bench, “As if to say, ‘You dumb jerk, why don’t you quit before you get hurt.’ ”

The Eagles, and Bednarik, had the last laugh, rallying to beat the Browns, 31-29.

Including the championship game, the Eagles won all four games in which Bednarik played both ways.

“Maybe if we’d lost those games, I’d have felt worse, physically,” he said. “But football is mind over matter. So it only took me three or four days to get over those bumps and bruises. Although I did feel some pain Mondays.”

By the early ‘60s, even the rest of the dinosaurs were wondering about Bednarik.

“Art Donovan (Baltimore lineman of the day) used to talk about me, how stupid I was, how nuts.”

If you’ve ever heard Donovan talk, well, for him to call somebody stupid or nuts is a chilling thing indeed.

“People were saying, I get paid to play offense or defense. Why jeopardize your health doing both.”

What they couldn’t understand, of course, was that Bednarik couldn’t stand not playing football. “Also, I never lost that ornery desire,” he said.

Bednarik, now 62 and a traveling salesman for a corrugated box company based in Philadelphia, has watched the game evolve into the space age, where ornery doesn’t count quite so much. For seven years, he was a motivational assistant to Dick Vermeil with the Eagles, and he marveled at what it takes to play football these days.

“Meetings, film,” he sighed. “About the only good thing I can say about all this specialization is, it gives another kid a chance to play. I liked it better in the old days.”

Recently he got to see how it is today. He was visiting his mother in Bethlehem, Pa., and walked the two blocks to Lehigh University to watch Holy Cross practice for the next day’s game. He had a team manager bring Lockbaum over for introductions and the two hit it off nicely.

Bednarik even went to the trunk of his car, where he had a spare copy of “The Last 60-Minute Man,” and autographed it for Lockbaum, “From the second-to-last 60-minute man.”

It was a gracious act. But Bednarik stayed for the game and almost decided to revoke the inscription.

“He’s a beautiful kid, a great athlete. He can play baseball, golf, tennis, that kind of athlete. You can see that as a runner. Hey, he has good moves and speed. But is he an authentic two-way player?, Can’t be!”

We are inclined to agree with Bednarik, as any straight-thinking person should be so inclined. Bednarik, you see, brooks little discussion over important matters. His prayer each morning, he says, is that he doesn’t lose his temper that day.

It’s not always answered.

Recently, a bulldozer operator was threatening his property and Bednarik was compelled to pull the poor man out of the cab.

“Fined me $250 for choking,” he said, still disbelieving, as if he didn’t know the offense was still on the books.

“I’m 62, look like I’m 40 and act like I’m 19,” he said. “The last of the two-way players.”