Just days ago, before covering the Oakland-Pittsburgh Sunday night game, some NFL writers fell into a press-box conversation about whether former Dallas Cowboys receiver Bob Hayes deserves enshrinement in the Pro Football Hall of Fame.
Truthfully, I had never given the topic much thought before then. I remember watching Hayes in the second half of his 11-year NFL career, and was aware that he was one of those controversial figures who always raised the issue of whether the Hall of Fame is for great citizens or great players. Beyond that, I didn't feel strongly either way.
But the topic of Hayes' NFL legacy surfaced again, of course, on Thursday, when the news came that the man they called "Bullet Bob" died of kidney failure in Jacksonville, Fla., at age 59.
After looking at the record, and listening to what others had to say, here's what I know now:
First off, Hayes' speed undeniably changed the way pass coverage was played in the NFL. In that sense, he was a ground-breaker deserving of lasting recognition.
Secondly, Hayes' career statistics measure up to Hall of Fame stature, especially if touchdowns are considered the game's greatest currency.
And lastly, a good number of Hall of Fame-level football figures seem to think that Hayes belongs among the game's greats, despite his well-documented troubles with substance abuse and addiction, as well as a brief prison term.
"Bob should have been in [the Hall of Fame] a long time ago," Hall of Fame receiver Lynn Swann said recently. "Bob changed the way defenses played wide receivers. He was so fast that you could no longer cover him man-to-man, and they started creating zones. If one man has that kind of effect on the game, that's enough to put him in the Hall of Fame."
Added John Madden, the former Raiders head coach and current ABC Monday Night Football analyst: "What Bob Hayes did and what he brought to the game, with the speed and everything, I think he probably should be in the Hall of Fame."
Watching footage recently of Johnny Unitas playing in his hey day of the late 1950s and early '60s reminded one of how much slower the game was in that era. Linemen seemed to almost dance with each other. Receivers and defensive backs seemed to amble by today's standards.
Hayes help change all that, introducing his world-class, gold-medal-winning speed into the NFL in 1965. He stretched the field like nobody else had done, and made zone defense a staple of NFL life.
Hall of Fame linebacker Sam Huff told a story about trying to defense the Cowboys and Hayes in the mid-1960s, when Huff was with the Redskins. Huff called a blitz, and Washington cornerback Jim Shorter immediately disagreed with the decision.
"He said, 'Hey, you can't call a blitz,'" Huff said. "I said, 'Why not?' And he said, 'That would leave me covering Bob Hayes and I can't cover Bob Hayes.' So I said, 'What do you want to do?' And he said, 'I want to play a zone.'
"Bob Hayes was so fast and so good that you had to play zone on him all the time. He's in my Hall of Fame ... He's the fastest thing I've ever seen in cleats. He brought a new dimension to the game."
And Hayes wasn't just a novelty. He was a weapon. Before finishing up with just a six-catch season in San Francisco in 1975, Hayes caught 365 passes for 7,295 yards and a team-record 71 touchdowns in his 10 seasons in Dallas. He was a Pro Bowl pick three times and a four-time All-Pro selection.
If you want to compare Hayes to somebody in today's NFL, Minnesota's Randy Moss, with his blend of size and speed, comes closest to reproducing the impact that Hayes had in most every game he played. And Hayes' numbers are a good match, too, in terms of touchdowns, average catch and percentage of catches for touchdowns.
In Moss' first four seasons (1998-01), he had 308 receptions in an era of pass-happy offense, with an NFL-leading 53 touchdowns, and a 17.5-yard average catch. Seventeen percent of his receptions have gone for touchdowns, and his catch-per-TD ratio is 5.8.
Hayes had just 212 catches in his first four seasons, but he caught 45 touchdowns and averaged 19.5 yards per reception. Twenty-one percent of his catches went for touchdowns, and his catch-per-TD ratio was an eye-popping 4.7.
Hayes' detractors will point to his 10-month prison sentence for delivering narcotics to an undercover police officer in 1979-80, and his long battles with drug and alcohol abuse.
"Most of the things that happened to Bob he did to himself," said Falcons head coach Dan Reeves, who broke in with Hayes in 1965 as a Cowboys rookie. "He had a tremendous problem trying to overcome alcohol. If there's anything that led to his early death, it's that. You hate to see somebody -- I don't know that waste his life is the right way to put it -- but you try and reach out and help someone like that. It boils down to it just didn't work out."
Because of his personal demons, Hayes may never make it into the Hall. Fairly or unfairly, character will always be an issue in his candidacy. But of this much I'm now sure: Hayes left his mark on the game. Whether or not that mark ever ends up being honored in Canton, it doesn't change what he did.
