Big Daddy Lipscomb.
He never went to college—it is questioned whether he was even literate—but in the Marines he was spotted and recruited by a LA press agent who worked for the Rams…a guy named Pete Rozelle.
Married three times (and guilty of not getting divorced first before marrying again at least once) and fond of seducing hotel maids, he was a major alcoholic and died of a heroin overdose…but he also drove the streets looking for kids who were in need, and he would buy them clothes, shoes, food—whatever they needed. He never knew his father, and his mother was murdered—and he carried her crime scene pictures with him.
He didn’t remember names very well, so he called everyone “Little daddy”. So, it seemed natural that he became “Big Daddy”. Like many of his fellow players, he was a professional wrestler, but he insisted on being a “good guy” because of his reputation in football. He also played one year in the NBA, just to show the Baltimore Colts, his team at the time, that he had options besides football. Rozelle himself made him quit when he became commissioner.
On the field, Big Daddy was 6’6” and weighed as much as three hundred pounds—mostly muscle. He was the fastest defensive tackle any one had ever seen. He was an All-Pro Bowl tackle four times, and was defensive MVP twice of the Pro Bowl. His first year in Pittsburgh he had 17½ sacks before they were officially a statistic.
The rumor persists that Big Daddy was murdered; his teammates insisted that he was scared of needles, which makes his heroin OD ever more suspicious. Plus, the needle marks were in his right arm—his dominant arm. Friends believe that Big Daddy partied, got drunk, was robbed and the heroin was used to cover up the crime. His liver was so damaged from drinking that the heroin killed him.
So, to be safe the NFL Hall of Fame has decided not to enshrine him. “People always remember you by the last thing you did,” Lipscomb once said, and that has sadly been his epitaph with the NFL.
