In the Midwest, Lyle Alzado was a god. Not the Judeo-Christian “Capital G” variety, but to Midwestern kids he was more than a match for Loki, Mars or Zeus. That’s what made his fall all the more painful and tragic.
He was a New Yawker who got no attention from East Coast schools, so he went to a Texas junior college where he was promptly thrown off the team—they said it was for fighting; he said it was because he hung out with the black players. Somehow, he wound up at tiny, TINY Yankton College, where he not only thrived in football but also became a stellar South Dakota Gold Gloves heavyweight boxer. Then, came fate.
A Denver Bronco coach’s car broke down in Montana, and he was picked up by a coaching friend, and to pass the time he watched game film of Montana State playing Yankton….and Alzado simply shined. The Broncos drafted him in the fourth round, and he became a star. He was the bad-ass foundation of the “Orange Crush” defense that would propel the Broncos to the 1978 Super Bowl. He was set…but he wasn’t.
He started having contract issues with the Broncos, and threatened to pick up a career as a professional boxer (thanks a lot, Too Tall Jones, for THAT career option)—and he even fought an exhibition bout with Muhammad Ali. The Broncos were fed up and traded Lyle to Siberia—or rather, Cleveland. But he embraced the Cleveland Browns, and was a key “Kardiac Kids” star and the team responded, as they made the AFC playoffs in 1980, only to lose to Jim Plunkett’s Raiders—”Red Right 88”, anyone? The next year, he had a great season, but the Browns tanked, and he was traded to Oakland, where he found a home with Al Davis and his misfits.
In 1982, Alzado was the NFL’s Comeback Player of the Year, and finally nabbed a Super Bowl ring in 1983 before retiring in 1985. Then, things went wrong. Alzado was legendary for his violent temper swings, both on and off the field. But when he was diagnosed with a fatal brain tumor, he came clean—he admitted that he used steroids from 1969 until his retirement. “I’m sick, and I’m scared,” he told Sports Illustrated. By 1992, he was dead.
I just remember him on his unconventional 1976 card pose. Nasty, afraid of no one, and daring to not look pretty.
Here are some highlights of “Three Mile Lyle” you just have to click on the “Watch on YouTube link”:
