True grit: QB Steve Young finally heads for sidelines
Steve Young's numbers speak of precision and efficiency. His style of play was anything but that.
He was improvisational, even reckless. He was fast and gritty and so unpredictable he could exasperate defenders and coaches -- sometimes on the same play.
On Monday, he retires after 15 years in the NFL and building a Hall of Fame career with the San Francisco 49ers. In harnessing the chaotic forces of pro football, Young leaves with two MVP awards, six passing titles and a Super Bowl crown.
The 38-year-old quarterback remains defined by a seat-of-the-pants, draw-it-in-the-dirt flair that enabled him to carve out his own legacy in his nine years since succeeding Joe Montana in 1991.
A left-handed passer, he put his throws right where receivers wanted them. He and Jerry Rice formed the most prolific touchdown-pass tandem in league history, hooking up 85 times for scores.
But he was also one the great scramblers, and many thought he could have been an outstanding NFL running back. In 1995, in an exhibition game of all things, he shed a tackle and kept running without his helmet.
"He's the best athlete to have ever played the quarterback position," said 49ers general manager Bill Walsh, who as coach pulled off the 1987 trade bringing Young to San Francisco from Tampa Bay.
"He'd been in other systems and hadn't done that well. But our system helped discipline him to where he wouldn't depend totally on athletic ability."
"I really believe he's one of the top five players ever to play the game at his position," said Denver coach Mike Shanahan, the offensive co-ordinator on the 49ers team Young led to a Super Bowl victory in 1995.
Young was driven by an obsession to succeed.
"There are not many quarterbacks you would consider a tough guy," said retired linebacker Gary Plummer. "But Steve Young was a tough guy. He just personified the passionate, tough-guy quarterback."
Young thought that was the best way to play a violent game. In 1996, after sitting out a game with a concussion, he returned for a game in Washington and scrambled for a first down on first series, colliding head-on with an opponent while diving for a first down.
"That's the way I am," he said. "I'm always going to go for the extra yard, for the first down. I'm going to try to make the tough pass, take the hit. To be honest, I don't know any other way to play."
But Young was also vulnerable and longed for acceptance in a city enraptured by the legend of Montana and his four Super Bowls. It didn't help that Young and Montana had a frosty relationship.
In his first years as a starter, Young could look in the stands and find a sea of Montana jerseys. The comparisons worsened after NFC title game losses to mighty Dallas in 1992 and '93.
Fans weren't the only ones who thought Young was coming up short. After a 1991 loss to the Raiders, teammate Charles Haley unleashed a tirade at Young in the locker room.
"It was brutal," said Carolina coach George Seifert, who as San Francisco coach oversaw the tense transition from Montana to Young.
"I mean, Joe was an icon. Steve and I used to kid each other all the time because he came in following Joe and I came in following Bill Walsh. But Joe is a competitor and Steve is, too, so it became very competitive. Joe was The Guy as long as he was in San Francisco, so Steve had quite a task ahead of him."
It would take a championship in 1994 before Young finally won acceptance from the fans and an organization that lived by a Super Bowl-or-bust mentality.
Young basked in that triumph in which he threw for six touchdowns in a 49-26 win over San Diego. He ran along the sideline in the final seconds, joyfully yelling, "Hey, someone please pull this monkey off my back!" Plummer leaned over and yanked away the imaginary weight.
Off the field, Young was engaging and down-to-earth, a millionaire in faded jeans and a wrinkled T-shirt. He donated his time and money to a wide range of charities even as he has plunged into a Silicon Valley Internet venture.
He enjoyed lively exchanges with reporters, whether he was talking about football, politics or some faraway crisis.
Young starred at Brigham Young, founded by his great-great-great grandfather, and earned a law degree there. He talked for years of his desire to marry and raise a family.
That finally happened this spring when he married Barbara Graham. The couple is expecting a child in December and that, along with concern over his history of concussions, was an important part of his decision to retire.
He leaves with his legacy -- and senses -- intact.
Young's two greatest plays might have been a last-minute 49-yard scramble for a touchdown in 1988 to beat Minnesota and a last-second touchdown pass to beat Green Bay in a 1998 playoff game.
Young could become so anxious he would often throw up before taking the field.
"He and I kidded about it on numerous occasions because he was a nervous wreck sometimes," 49ers coach Steve Mariucci said. "He just said, `That's how I am. I can't do it any other way.' But that's what made him tick. He felt that if he played well, we would win and if he didn't, we wouldn't. He took a lot of responsibility on his shoulders."
Walsh was coaching when Young zig-zagged through the Vikings' defence.
"By the time he started running, men were scattered all over the field and he had to make them all miss," Walsh said. "It's not like the running back who breaks the line of scrimmage and there's just a couple people left. Steve had to run through the whole team. It was an incredible effort, just magnificent and that started him on toward a Hall of Fame career."
Mariucci said he thought the quintessential Young was the 25-yard touchdown pass to Terrell Owens with three seconds left against the Packers in '98-- a play that for sheer drama was rivalled only by the Montana-Dwight Clark combination on The Catch to beat Dallas in the 1981 NFC title game.
He nearly didn't get it off, tripping over a clump of sod while backpedalling and then eluding pressure before threading a strike through three defenders.
"It was a drive he put on because he simply wasn't going to be outdone by Brett Favre," Mariucci said. "And while he didn't do it by himself, he certainly found a way to get it done."
As it turned out, Young's last great moment foreshadowed the final act of his career. The 49ers were in Arizona, driving toward a score just before halftime last Sept. 27. The play called was an "all-go," the same one called against Green Bay.
But this time, the protection broke down and Young took a hit from blitzing cornerback Aenas Williams. He crumpled to the turf with his eighth concussion and fourth in three years.
"That's the irony of this whole thing," Mariucci said. "You have two defining moments in his career coming on the same play -- one was this incredible touchdown and the other ended in his injury."
Brent Jones, a former tight end for the 49ers, is one of Young's best friends. And maybe he understands better that anyone what Young was all about on the football field.
"He was," Jones said, "the ultimate competitor."
By Dennis Georgatos