He Listened to Me and He Never Forgot

Late in Super Bowl XXXI with Green Bay thrashing New England, the editor back in Los Angeles wanted to know what Murray was going to write.

Holding the phone to my ear. I gently asked Murray, sitting next to me, what his twist would be on the Super Bowl.

“I’m thinking about the running backs,” he said. “This Dorsey Levens guy left Notre Dame and went to Georgia Tech and Edgar Bennett.”

But the running backs played no key role in the game, and upon reflection the editor said, “We need something on Mike Holmgren. . . . You have to tell Murray to do Holmgren.”

Sure, and later I can call the pope and tell him he must let women become priests.

The mass of pushy reporters surrounding Holmgren was huge--even dangerous--but Murray the newspaperman stood his ground and wrote a dazzling column that only Murray could write.

Telling Murray what to write was a sin of hellish proportions, but Murray never said a thing. Until this year’s Super Bowl.

The sports editor of The Times called everyone together at breakfast to pass out Super Bowl XXXII assignments, but Murray interrupted him. Adjusting his glasses, his eyes twinkling as they did when a wisecrack was forthcoming, he said.

“I’ll just wait until later when T.J. tells me what to write.”