Pro Football: Jimmy, the Giant Killer

PRO FOOTBALL

The biggest obstacle that stands between the National Football League’s New York Giants and their third straight Eastern Conference Championship is Jimmy Brown, the Cleveland Browns’s 235-lb. fullback. Too bad, Giants. This Sunday the Giants play Jimmy and the other Browns in Cleveland’s Municipal Stadium. They ran into theBrowns only last week, and the Giants are still shuddering from shock. For some obscure reason, bookies favored the Giants by three points; the Browns demolished them 35-24—and the best running back in pro football settled an old and bitter score.

Like Peanuts. In years past, the Giants had a double-whammy on Jimmy. Over the course of his seven pro seasons, Cleveland had beaten the Giants only four times in 13 tries, and in one awful game back in 1958 it was all Jimmy could do to gain a bare 8 yds. But nobody has been able to stop him this year (TIME, Oct. 4)—and certainly not the Giants. Ripping off 7 and 8 yds. a carry, he shucked tacklers like peanut shells, once straight-armed Giant Linebacker Bill Winter so hard that Winter collapsed in a heap. With the ball on the New York 5, he picked up 4 yds. with five Giant tacklers clinging to him. He then made the touchdown by hurling himself bodily into the air. A lucky interception and Giant Quarterback Y. A. Tittle’s wonderful passes gave New York a 17-14 lead at half time. But Jimmy was merely warming up.

Back he came for the second half, and 63,000 fans edged forward. In the first half he had shown frightening power—now it was speed. On Cleveland’s first play he gathered in a screen pass on his own 28, took advantage of a block, burst into the clear and simply outran the Giant team. Safetyman Erich Barnes, a 10-flat sprinter, gave up the chase, stood staring in astonishment.

“Nothing to It.” Then it was time for the tricks—the beautiful feints and cuts that only halfbacks are supposed to perform. With Cleveland on the Giant 32, Quarterback Frank Ryan called, “Option seven left.” The snap, the pitchout, and Jimmy Brown was off, barreling through the left side of the Giants’ line. Three Giants had him trapped at the 22. They rushed in. But Jimmy was gone. In one of those incredible flashes of grace that light up professional football, the huge man had pirouetted nearly 180° and was sprinting across the field to his right, looking for protective blockers. Three Cleveland players formed up to make a convoy. Jimmy circled behind them, throttled down to a casual trot for his third TD of the afternoon. Marveled Giant Defensive Captain Andy Robustelli: “We had him, and we still couldn’t get him.”

Before the day was out, Jimmy Brown had carried the ball 23 times, gained 123 yds. on the ground, another 86 on passes, run his season’s rushing total to 787 yds.—almost twice that of any other back in the league. His point output: 60, tops in the league. The Giants had done all they could to stop him: his left arm was bandaged and swollen; there were purple bruises over and under both eyes and on the bridge of his nose. Brown only grinned. Said Giant Halfback Frank Gifford: “That Brown. He says he isn’t Superman. What he means is that Superman isn’t Jimmy Brown.”