Time to put Jerry Kramer in Canton, while he's here to enjoy it

David Steele

Time to put Jerry Kramer in Canton, while he's here to enjoy it image

Ken Stabler finally got into the Pro Football Hall of Fame on Saturday night. He got in posthumously. He died a little over a year ago, at age 69.

Jerry Kramer is 80. The Packers franchise he represented so well during the Lombardi dynasty in the 1960s is well-represented this weekend, with the current team playing in Sunday’s game and with Packers Nation in full attendance Saturday night for Brett Favre. But Kramer won’t be around Canton (according to at least one account) — because Kramer isn’t in Canton.

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So the clock starts again, and so does the race against time. 

Kramer’s in great shape, according to that same account in USA Today last week — and not just for an NFL legend who made his name in the trenches and whose career prime was a half-century ago. But fate is being tempted, and worst-case scenarios form, and the macabre creeps into the conversation.

It’s unavoidable at times like this. There’s Stabler, who waited 26 years, was last a finalist in 2003, and didn’t get the nod from the senior committee until he was gone. There’s the other senior inductee this weekend, Dick Stanfel, a dominant offensive lineman in the 1950s; he died about two weeks before Stabler did last year.

Stanfel was one of the best guards of his era. Kramer, however, was a guard on the NFL’s 50th anniversary team picked in 1969. That’s just one of the long, long list of accolades that have still not been enough to get him into the Hall. Not even throwing what’s probably the most instantly-recognizable block in league history has stuck well enough.

Unlike Jethro Pugh on that snap, Kramer has somehow slipped through every possible crack. No player has slipped through more, for longer, with the least explanation.

Last year’s class was enshrined under the cloud of who wasn’t there, Junior Seau; a conflict over whether Seau’s daughter would be allowed to speak was more or less resolved at the last minute. Seau had died at 43 of a self-inflicted gunshot found. Nothing is promised.

The Jerry Kramer debate spans entire eras of the game’s history. The first time he was eligible, 1973, was just three years after the AFL-NFL merger was completed. The last time he was a finalist on the regular ballot, 1987, Bill Parcells and the Giants won their first Super Bowl. 

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The last time he was a seniors finalist, 1997, Don Shula led the four-member inductee class. All 10 of the other finalists who were left out that year have since gotten in. 

And, irony of painful ironies, Favre and the Packers won that year’s Super Bowl.

In his day, it couldn't have seemed possible that Kramer would never get in. It doesn't seem possible to observers today, many of whom assume he's already in. Eleven Packers from Kramer’s era are enshrined, led by Lombardi.

The living members always petition for his inclusion. The USA Today feature pointed out how Paul Hornung and Bart Starr, up there in years themselves, keep pushing.

His children fight on his behalf. There’s a websiteFacebook page and Twitter account to garner support.

Kramer speaks up plenty on his own behalf. He gets the call to talk at every milepost: Candidates are announced, the semifinalist cut, the finalist cut, the selection at Super Bowl week, the August induction.

Then the cycle starts again, and Kramer assumes his title as The Best Player Not in the Hall of Fame. Or, The Biggest Snub Ever By the Hall of Fame. Neither is flattering or satisfying.

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There’s only so many times anyone can carry that label. 

Literally.

Eventually, others had to advocate for Stabler because he wasn’t there to do it himself.

Kramer deserves better than to have that happen.

David Steele