Pro Football: In a Word, Money

PRO FOOTBALL

Even the wives of pro-football fans had no trouble divining the reason behind last month's sudden merger of the rival National and American football leagues. In a word, money—the staggering bonuses (up to $600,000 last year) paid to college stars by the hotly competing pro leagues. It was bound to be merely a matter of time until veteran players (and their lawyers) decided to grab for a leaf of the lettuce.

Last week, just as practice for the 1966 season got under way, the N.F.L.'s Detroit Lions were trying to cope with a mass training-camp holdout by veterans demanding pay increases that would put them on a par with untried bonus rookies. Among the balkers: All-N.F.L. Guards John Gordy and Ted Karras, Ends Darris McCord and Ron Kramer, Flanker Pat Studstill, and Defensive Back Bruce Maher. The Baltimore Colts were minus their two top pass receivers, Raymond Berry and Jimmy Orr, and the St. Louis Cardinals had two holdouts: Center Bob DeMarco and Split End Sonny Randle.

The A.F.L. was having its troubles too. Following the example of baseball's Sandy Koufax and Don Drysdale, Oakland's Clem Daniels and Art Powell were demanding identical threeyear, $150,000 contracts. Halfback Paul Lowe, the A.F.L.'s Player of the Year in 1965, still had not signed with the San Diego Chargers. Neither had All-A.F.L. End Earl Faison.

But the holdout who really rattled the rafters was Quarterback John Brodie of the San Francisco 49ers, No. 1 passer in the N.F.L. last year. Before the merger, Brodie had accepted a threeyear, $750,000 contract to play for the A.F.L.'s Houston Oilers. His deal was abrogated by the merger. Brodie took a trip to Hawaii, hired San Francisco Attorney John Elliott Cook to represent him, and threatened a court action against the merger unless somebody coughed up the $750,000 he had been promised—plus damages.

Court action was the last thing the leagues' lawyers wanted, for fear that a charge of deliberately eliminating their own competition might stick. "If it ever gets to court," said one attorney last week, "the merger will be dead—as soon as somebody whispers the word antitrust."