Just as important to the paying public, Longley carried himself with the swagger of the proverbial Texan.
Longley was certainly likable, the kind of person who would grow on a fanbase. “Captain America” never materialized as even an undercard attraction on a Thousand Oaks practice field during the 1970s is reflective of the fact that Longley was, in fact, not.
Because he had, perhaps inadvertently, proven superior to Captain Comeback on Thanksgiving Day, fans had automatically assumed that Longley was cut from the same cloth as Staubach competitive, disciplined, and a natural leader. And he knew what to do in crunch time throw the ball deep to Drew Pearson. Oh, yes, make no mistake about it: Longley, after less than two quarters of action on an NFL field, was already a legend.īut what the local fanbase didn’t know was the Longley behind the scenes. He obviously was an expert on inspiring a huddle. Longley had a stronger arm than Staubach. Of course, Longley didn’t have enough Catholic initiative to coin the phrase in the postgame locker room. Longley’s 50-yard heave to Drew Pearson that downed the Redskins was the Hail Mary before the Hail Mary. Longley had given the city of Dallas – if only for a day – something they had come to expect a hero. Thanks to Staubach, nobody could hold the Cowboys back. Since that day when Staubach guided the Cowboys past Miami in Super Bowl VI, accomplishments had become limitless in Dallas. Staubach was the pearl of the Cowboys’ spanking-new football palace in Irving, the reason for the season of hope and conquest that the Cowboys were enjoying during the 1970s. Eddie Lebaron or Don Meredith? Meredith or Morton? Morton or Staubach? There was supposed to be a controversy in Dallas, right?Ĭonsider the two participants in what was thought to be a newly-budding quarterback rivalry. There had always been an argument centering around the position. By answering the bells ringing in Staubach’s head with a comeback of his own versus Washington, Longley was deemed deserving of at least a chance to captain the Dallas offense in 1975 and beyond.Īnd who could blame locals for such delusion. Fans in Dallas couldn’t remember the last time that the quarterback situation for the Cowboys was unquestionably settled. Staubach, once upon a not so distant time, had saved the day versus San Francisco in the 1972 Divisional playoffs, consequently establishing himself beyond a shadow of a doubt as the fan-favorite over Craig Morton. The thought process to arrive at such a conclusion was quite logical, if you relied solely upon a small transcript of franchise history. In short, there was a growing expectation among fans that Longley would push Staubach for the starting quarterback job. Having watched Longley’s powers on display in front of a national television audience, cheery locals found cause to hope for much more from Longley when the Cowboys convened for training camp the following summer. To be sure, Longley’s day in the sun did more than provide the history books with an all-time one-hit wonder to behold, and more than preserve the Dallas Cowboys’ playoff hopes for another week that particular season. That’s a good question, and one which has befuddled the minds of a handful of longtime Cowboy enthusiasts for more than four decades. So, you ask, if Longley was capable of rallying the Cowboys on that day, what prevented him from developing into an NFL starting quarterback? The magic of a Thanksgiving Day miracle in 1974 provided Clint Longley an unforeseen taste of the national spotlight. Coming off the bench in relief of an injured Roger Staubach, this unheralded rookie out of tiny Abilene Christian shocked the entire football world by tossing a pair of late-game touchdown bombs to erase a thirteen-point deficit and nip the Washington Redskins 24-23. Rookie QB Clint Longley was the toast of Dallas after guiding the Cowboys to a comeback victory over Washington on Thanksgiving Day in 1974.
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