But if Summerall has ice water in his veins, how come he's so dratted emotional? The latest example of this sentimentality came during the opening show of The NFL Today last September. Summerall got noticeably misty-eyed on camera when CBS aired a brief tribute to him on his 25th anniversary.
In Lake City, Summerall supports his 84-year-old mother in a condominium (his father, who worked his way up from janitor to executive vice-president of the bank, died 28 years ago, at 58, of acute appendicitis). Summerall and his wife, Kathy, who was an admiring eighth grader when Pat was a senior in high school, have three children, all of whom live nearby. Summerall still hangs out with Kennon; they have a few cold ones and watch Monday night football together. But Pat doesn't like to talk much about personal things, Mike admits.
"Tell you a story about him," Madden says. "I have two sons, Mike at Harvard and Joe at Brown, and I wanted to go to their game this year, on a Saturday; they were playing against each other. The problem was, Pat and I watch film on Saturday for our Sunday game. For me to get away, he'd have to come up early so we could watch the film on Friday. Well, not only did he come in on Friday, he came in on Wednesday to appear at a dinner where they gave me an award.
"I tell you, I thought about that. The best gift you can give is the gift of time. He gave that. And the best thing about it is he didn't bitch about it. Me, I would have done it, but I would have bitched about it. But he never mentioned it, he never hung it over me, never said, 'I'm doing this for you.' He just came in, did it and never said a damn thing. See, that's the way he is. He does things, but he doesn't want thank-yous."
No way. Hey, Pat Summerall's a tough guy, remember?