'God Bless Mr. D'
For one special night, the 49ers' woes are forgotten
Posted: Saturday March 25, 2006 2:42PM; Updated: Saturday March 25, 2006 2:51PM
A lot has happened to Eddie DeBartolo and the 49ers since his 1995 post-Super Bowl embrace with QB Steve Young, most of it not very good.
Mike Powell/Getty Images
The line snaked across the floor of the Paris Casino, a procession of highly competitive people in pussycat mode. For all of the battles they'd waged in the past -- mostly together, sometimes against one another -- the guests at the Super Bowl reunion bash thrown Eddie DeBartolo had nothing but hugs, handshakes and "How the hell are ya?" hosannas for one another as the 49ers' former owner treated them to yet another display of his legendary largesse.
"God bless Mr. D," one former front office employee said as he waited in the line, which was for contestants in a Friday afternoon slot tournament in the middle of a four-day, three-night Vegas bash from the past that DeBartolo threw for nearly 600 of his favorite ex-employees and associates.
DeBartolo had envisioned the slot tournament, which went head-to-head with golf and poker tournaments as Friday's officially sponsored entertainment choices, as a pleasant diversion for the women in attendance, but the line was in fact filled with some of the more macho men the sport of football has seen. "With poker, there's so much going on; with this I can just walk up, pull a lever and get down to business," Roger Craig, the Niners' star halfback of the '80s, was explaining to the crowd of well-wishers around him.
Soon Craig was embracing a former teammate, onetime star tight end Russ Francis, who looked as though he had just emerged from JimmyBuffet's Cheeseburger in Paradise after a day of beachcombing in Lahaina, Maui. As Francis introduced Craig to his children, similar scenes were playing out behind and in front of them: Rugged pass blockers swapped stories, security guards and secretaries giggled over old times and even journalists co-mingled with the principals whose passions used to drive their sometimes controversial stories.
More than a decade after the 49ers won their fifth Super Bowl in 14 seasons, and eight years since DeBartolo, in the wake of legal and financial troubles, ceded the team to his sister, Denise DeBartolo York, the old feuds and compromised loyalties seemed forgotten.
"It's weird," remarked Redskins vice president of football operations Vinny Cerrato, who was fired as the 49ers' scouting director in 1999. "It's like all of a sudden it's eight years ago, and none of the negative stuff ever happened."
At a cocktail reception Thursday night DeBartolo and his wife, Candy, mingled cordially with former Niners team president Carmen Policy and his wife, Gail. The two couples had once been as close as Bubba Paris and his fork, but after DeBartolo became embroiled in a Louisiana gaming scandal in 1997 -- he ultimately pleaded guilty to a felony, for failing to report an extortion attempt by ex-Louisiana governor Edwin Edwards, and was fined $1 million -- their relationship disintegrated, and for a couple of years they were mortal enemies.
It was DeBartolo who initiated their reconciliation, just as he has attempted to take the high road in dealing with virtually all of his frayed relationships. To this event he even invited his sister, DeBartolo York, whom he used to regard as having taken pleasure in wresting control of the team from him, and her husband, John York, the 49ers' current chieftain. The Yorks declined, an understandable decision considering the long-standing enmity between John and Eddie and the conspicuous contrast in their leadership styles that was once again on display in Vegas.
In other words, for the current 49ers employees who attended, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas -- because what happens in Santa Clara inevitably looms as the ultimate buzz-kill.
York is all about cost-consciousness and condescension, having frustrated his employees with his impassive, know-it-all demeanor and blown up the franchise's once-thriving fan base by fielding an inferior product. DeBartolo, for all his flaws -- he was hot-headed and reckless and impatient, among other things -- never pretended to be anything he wasn't, and that alone endeared him to his charges. He was sloppy and politically incorrect and generous and gregarious and loyal, and he wanted not only to field a winning team but also to make sure his operation was first-class at all costs.
He spent money, to be sure, especially in the pre-salary cap era, but that wasn't the sole reason DeBartolo was loved by so many who worked for him. It was also his penchant for sentimental gestures, the flowers he'd send to the pregnant wives or the get-well baskets that would arrive at the hospital after his players' surgeries.
This was also a man who stood at the entrance to the tunnel leading from Candlestick Park to the home team's locker room handing out towels to his players at halftime -- and while that act might seem trite to an outsider, it resonated deeply with the men in uniform as the ultimate assurance that they were not merely pieces of meat. It was DeBartolo's way of saying, "I understand that your blood and sweat are ultimately responsible for our success," and his players revered him for making the effort.
It was no surprise, then, that the luminaries rolled into Vegas enthusiastically, the Hall of Fame quarterbacks (Joe Montana showed up late Thursday night, with Steve Young due the following afternoon); the well-known dancer (Jerry Rice of reality-TV fame) and the well-tanned front-office castoff (Dwight Clark of drafting Jim Druckenmiller fame) who once caught their passes; the white-haired wizards (Hall of Fame coach Bill Walsh and his highly successful successor, George Seifert); the unparalleled Ronnie Lott and another all-time great defensive back, the Florida fisherman known as Prime Time; the potent pass rushers -- a very heavy Charles Haley and a (seemingly) very heated Tim Harris; Randy (Cross) and Roy (Firestone) and Romo (remember that Bill Romanowski began his controversial career as KeenaTurner's backup with the Niners) and on and on and on.
But in typical DeBartolo fashion, the big names weren't the only ones who got to share in the celebration. The rank-and-file, whose check-in packets included $300 of spending money and $500 of complimentary poker chips, were part of the family once more. There were monsignors and assistant trainers and equipment guys and groundskeepers and, most touchingly, the widow of longtime 49ers offensive line coach Bobb McKittrick, Teckla, who was there with her new husband -- a recent widower who had once been her junior high school sweetheart.
"He'd heard about Bobb and was interested in looking me up, and when my mother died a couple of years ago and he came to the funeral," Teckla recalled Thursday night, tearing up. "The way I look at it is that it was the last gift my mother gave to me."
DeBartolo undoubtedly, will keep giving until his last breath. He moved to Tampa after selling his interest in the 49ers (Denise took the team, Eddie the family's real estate company) and has done well enough in various ventures that he was recently rated by Forbes magazine as the 235th richest American, with a net worth of $1.4 billion.
With a nest egg that fat DeBartolo, if he wanted, could contemplate the prospect of returning to the NFL. The owners who once wanted him banished in the wake of his legal difficulties might well reconsider that sentiment now, especially after watching the 49ers' demise, and DeBartolo did have interest in purchasing the Buccaneers (had Malcolm Glazer been willing to sell for a reasonably cheap price) a few years back.
Now, however, he seems to have moved on, having told friends that football is in his past. He seems devoted to enjoying life and, when possible, mending fences, and for all the cash he shelled out to fund his reunion bash, the money moments came when old foes shook hands and shared a drink or three and took a few minutes to celebrate the greatest sustained run of excellence in NFL history.
Each of his guests was thankful to the man who made it happen -- DeBartolo's true gift had been to make them feel special once more, and the feeling of course was mutual.
Walking the casino floor at 3:30 a.m. Friday, I ran into DeBartolo as he and a few friends emerged from a card room. His smile was as wide as former All-Pro nose tackle Michael Carter and he seemed a highly unlikely candidate to report for the golf-tournament's 7 a.m. tee time.
"Look at you," he said to a journalist who, as a beat writer and columnist covering the 49ers at the start of his career, had ripped the man on more than one occasion. "You're just getting started."
I laughed -- in truth, with a daughter's soccer tournament to attend, I was not long for Vegas -- and asked if his night was still young.
"Forget it," he said. "I'm going to bed."
If only I'd had a towel, I'd have handed it to him on his way to the elevators.
For one special night, the 49ers' woes are forgotten
Posted: Saturday March 25, 2006 2:42PM; Updated: Saturday March 25, 2006 2:51PM
A lot has happened to Eddie DeBartolo and the 49ers since his 1995 post-Super Bowl embrace with QB Steve Young, most of it not very good.
Mike Powell/Getty Images
The line snaked across the floor of the Paris Casino, a procession of highly competitive people in pussycat mode. For all of the battles they'd waged in the past -- mostly together, sometimes against one another -- the guests at the Super Bowl reunion bash thrown Eddie DeBartolo had nothing but hugs, handshakes and "How the hell are ya?" hosannas for one another as the 49ers' former owner treated them to yet another display of his legendary largesse.
"God bless Mr. D," one former front office employee said as he waited in the line, which was for contestants in a Friday afternoon slot tournament in the middle of a four-day, three-night Vegas bash from the past that DeBartolo threw for nearly 600 of his favorite ex-employees and associates.
DeBartolo had envisioned the slot tournament, which went head-to-head with golf and poker tournaments as Friday's officially sponsored entertainment choices, as a pleasant diversion for the women in attendance, but the line was in fact filled with some of the more macho men the sport of football has seen. "With poker, there's so much going on; with this I can just walk up, pull a lever and get down to business," Roger Craig, the Niners' star halfback of the '80s, was explaining to the crowd of well-wishers around him.
Soon Craig was embracing a former teammate, onetime star tight end Russ Francis, who looked as though he had just emerged from JimmyBuffet's Cheeseburger in Paradise after a day of beachcombing in Lahaina, Maui. As Francis introduced Craig to his children, similar scenes were playing out behind and in front of them: Rugged pass blockers swapped stories, security guards and secretaries giggled over old times and even journalists co-mingled with the principals whose passions used to drive their sometimes controversial stories.
More than a decade after the 49ers won their fifth Super Bowl in 14 seasons, and eight years since DeBartolo, in the wake of legal and financial troubles, ceded the team to his sister, Denise DeBartolo York, the old feuds and compromised loyalties seemed forgotten.
"It's weird," remarked Redskins vice president of football operations Vinny Cerrato, who was fired as the 49ers' scouting director in 1999. "It's like all of a sudden it's eight years ago, and none of the negative stuff ever happened."
At a cocktail reception Thursday night DeBartolo and his wife, Candy, mingled cordially with former Niners team president Carmen Policy and his wife, Gail. The two couples had once been as close as Bubba Paris and his fork, but after DeBartolo became embroiled in a Louisiana gaming scandal in 1997 -- he ultimately pleaded guilty to a felony, for failing to report an extortion attempt by ex-Louisiana governor Edwin Edwards, and was fined $1 million -- their relationship disintegrated, and for a couple of years they were mortal enemies.
It was DeBartolo who initiated their reconciliation, just as he has attempted to take the high road in dealing with virtually all of his frayed relationships. To this event he even invited his sister, DeBartolo York, whom he used to regard as having taken pleasure in wresting control of the team from him, and her husband, John York, the 49ers' current chieftain. The Yorks declined, an understandable decision considering the long-standing enmity between John and Eddie and the conspicuous contrast in their leadership styles that was once again on display in Vegas.
In other words, for the current 49ers employees who attended, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas -- because what happens in Santa Clara inevitably looms as the ultimate buzz-kill.
York is all about cost-consciousness and condescension, having frustrated his employees with his impassive, know-it-all demeanor and blown up the franchise's once-thriving fan base by fielding an inferior product. DeBartolo, for all his flaws -- he was hot-headed and reckless and impatient, among other things -- never pretended to be anything he wasn't, and that alone endeared him to his charges. He was sloppy and politically incorrect and generous and gregarious and loyal, and he wanted not only to field a winning team but also to make sure his operation was first-class at all costs.
He spent money, to be sure, especially in the pre-salary cap era, but that wasn't the sole reason DeBartolo was loved by so many who worked for him. It was also his penchant for sentimental gestures, the flowers he'd send to the pregnant wives or the get-well baskets that would arrive at the hospital after his players' surgeries.
This was also a man who stood at the entrance to the tunnel leading from Candlestick Park to the home team's locker room handing out towels to his players at halftime -- and while that act might seem trite to an outsider, it resonated deeply with the men in uniform as the ultimate assurance that they were not merely pieces of meat. It was DeBartolo's way of saying, "I understand that your blood and sweat are ultimately responsible for our success," and his players revered him for making the effort.
It was no surprise, then, that the luminaries rolled into Vegas enthusiastically, the Hall of Fame quarterbacks (Joe Montana showed up late Thursday night, with Steve Young due the following afternoon); the well-known dancer (Jerry Rice of reality-TV fame) and the well-tanned front-office castoff (Dwight Clark of drafting Jim Druckenmiller fame) who once caught their passes; the white-haired wizards (Hall of Fame coach Bill Walsh and his highly successful successor, George Seifert); the unparalleled Ronnie Lott and another all-time great defensive back, the Florida fisherman known as Prime Time; the potent pass rushers -- a very heavy Charles Haley and a (seemingly) very heated Tim Harris; Randy (Cross) and Roy (Firestone) and Romo (remember that Bill Romanowski began his controversial career as KeenaTurner's backup with the Niners) and on and on and on.
But in typical DeBartolo fashion, the big names weren't the only ones who got to share in the celebration. The rank-and-file, whose check-in packets included $300 of spending money and $500 of complimentary poker chips, were part of the family once more. There were monsignors and assistant trainers and equipment guys and groundskeepers and, most touchingly, the widow of longtime 49ers offensive line coach Bobb McKittrick, Teckla, who was there with her new husband -- a recent widower who had once been her junior high school sweetheart.
"He'd heard about Bobb and was interested in looking me up, and when my mother died a couple of years ago and he came to the funeral," Teckla recalled Thursday night, tearing up. "The way I look at it is that it was the last gift my mother gave to me."
DeBartolo undoubtedly, will keep giving until his last breath. He moved to Tampa after selling his interest in the 49ers (Denise took the team, Eddie the family's real estate company) and has done well enough in various ventures that he was recently rated by Forbes magazine as the 235th richest American, with a net worth of $1.4 billion.
With a nest egg that fat DeBartolo, if he wanted, could contemplate the prospect of returning to the NFL. The owners who once wanted him banished in the wake of his legal difficulties might well reconsider that sentiment now, especially after watching the 49ers' demise, and DeBartolo did have interest in purchasing the Buccaneers (had Malcolm Glazer been willing to sell for a reasonably cheap price) a few years back.
Now, however, he seems to have moved on, having told friends that football is in his past. He seems devoted to enjoying life and, when possible, mending fences, and for all the cash he shelled out to fund his reunion bash, the money moments came when old foes shook hands and shared a drink or three and took a few minutes to celebrate the greatest sustained run of excellence in NFL history.
Each of his guests was thankful to the man who made it happen -- DeBartolo's true gift had been to make them feel special once more, and the feeling of course was mutual.
Walking the casino floor at 3:30 a.m. Friday, I ran into DeBartolo as he and a few friends emerged from a card room. His smile was as wide as former All-Pro nose tackle Michael Carter and he seemed a highly unlikely candidate to report for the golf-tournament's 7 a.m. tee time.
"Look at you," he said to a journalist who, as a beat writer and columnist covering the 49ers at the start of his career, had ripped the man on more than one occasion. "You're just getting started."
I laughed -- in truth, with a daughter's soccer tournament to attend, I was not long for Vegas -- and asked if his night was still young.
"Forget it," he said. "I'm going to bed."
If only I'd had a towel, I'd have handed it to him on his way to the elevators.
