Crossroads' Top 10 Most Fascinating People - No. 2: Bum Phillips
Late-life calling attracts coach to new playbook
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TIMELINE
Bum Phillips, one of the most colorful NFL characters of all-time, has lived an equally compelling life.
Sept. 29, 1923: Bum is born Oail Andrew Phillips. Later, he receives his famous nickname from a stuttering sister who couldn't pronounce ...
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TIMELINE
Bum Phillips, one of the most colorful NFL characters of all-time, has lived an equally compelling life.
Sept. 29, 1923: Bum is born Oail Andrew Phillips. Later, he receives his famous nickname from a stuttering sister who couldn't pronounce Oail (said O-L).
September 1937: Receives a whipping three nights in a row from his father, who discourages the high school freshman from playing football. A broken leg keeps a teen from working on the ranch, his father reasoned.
Sept. 29, 1941: Enlists in the U.S. Marines on his birthday. Serves in the South Pacific during World War II.
1950: Lands his first coaching job as an assistant at Nederland High School.
1957: Recruited by the legendary Paul "Bear" Bryant as an assistant coach at Texas A&M.
1967: After coaching stints all across Texas, is hired by Sid Gillman to serve as defensive coordinator for the San Diego Chargers.
1975: Becomes head coach of the Houston Oilers. Quickly leads ailing team to consecutive AFC Championship games.
1985: After five seasons as head coach of the New Orleans Saints, retires from professional football.
1995: Moves to a 250-acre ranch south of Goliad.
Heart Sign
In addition to the prison ministry and other charitable work, the Phillipses vow to better help connect deaf children with their parents, who often struggle with American Sign Language.
The Phillipses' Goliad daughter and son-in-law, Kimann and Mark England, founded Heart Sign, which provides classes, workshops, retreats and camps for anyone who wishes to learn sign language. Phillips agreed to donate a chunk of his land for use as the foundation of a future charity headquarters and camp.
For more, visit www.HeartSign.org.
Bum Phillips, the famed former Houston Oilers head coach, rested in his oversized leather chair. He stared out the window to his right and to the back end of his 250-acre Goliad ranch. The living room was warm, peaceful. Prison was far from his thoughts.
The 86-year-old mulled over a plug of tobacco, a wad of Tinsley, like he has since 1937. He discussed John Wayne movies, the battles he survived during World War II and the football legends he will forever remain linked to: Paul "Bear" Bryant, Earl Campbell, Terry Bradshaw.
Phillips remains famous for his down-home quips, for wearing cowboy hats when fedoras graced pro football sidelines, and, as a Cincinnati sports writer noted during the 1970s, for pausing to spit tobacco juice where punctuation marks belong.
Friends and family say God propelled Phillips to the limelight as a younger man so he could now use his good name to serve even greater purposes.
Leaving for prison
Like most Saturdays, the Phillips' front door swung open and shut.
Visitors, whether a neighbor from down the road or the owner of the local feed store, drop by unannounced and like they're family.
Phillips began coaching in the National Football League in 1967. He quickly became one of the league's most beloved characters ever. He's a hit in Goliad, too.
In the home office, Debbie Phillips, the coach's wife, and Dee Jean Hurta, one of his six children, hovered near a computer. In the kitchen, Mike Barber prepared notes. Phillips drafted Barber as a tight end in the second round of the 1976 NFL Draft. Barber, 51, looks like he could still run block.
After an hour, the group climbed into an SUV and drove south toward Beeville.
"We're probably the only people you'll meet who want to go to prison," Phillips said.
Returning to his roots
Phillips grew up in east Texas during the Great Depression and not far from his grandfather's Orange County ranch. During rare trips to town, he rode with his mother up front in a horse-drawn wagon.
Carl Mauck, a feisty former Oilers center, played for Phillips.
"He was like the people I grew up around. He was like those farmers back home," Mauck said. "We'd sit on the jump seat on the back of the plane. We sat back there, drank beer, dipped chew and played 'Name That Tune.' That was Bum."
Phillips is a product of his cowboy upbringing. Although his mother studied the Bible at nights, the family never discussed the book's contents. Phillips knew God existed, but he lived by the era's golden rules: keep your word, work hard, don't lie. Follow those rules, and you go to heaven.
"Ignorance was bliss," Phillips said. "I didn't know."
Phillips served in the South Pacific during World War II. He returned stateside to play college football, compete in rodeos and indulge in a thirst for beer. During one risky fishing trip, he almost drowned in the Gulf of Mexico.
"You didn't have a bit of sense at all. God kept you alive despite your stupidity," Debbie Phillips told her husband. Her eyes narrowed but her face formed a half-smile. "God had more in store."
After working as an oil refinery grunt, Phillips found a passion: coaching Texas high school football. He excelled, worked his way into the college ranks and landed in professional football. Sid Gillman hired Phillips as the San Diego Chargers' defensive coordinator.
In 1975, Phillips became head coach of the Houston Oilers. In a short time, he turned the struggling franchise into a contender - and Houston into a football-crazed city.
After football, he commentated games and endorsed products. He moved to Goliad in 1995 to escape the big-city bustle and to return to his rural roots.
A fateful trip
During the trip to Beeville, Phillips visited with Barber. Debbie Phillips sped down the highway. A decade ago, the group first visited the prison together.
After football, Barber and Phillips lost touch. Barber began a full-time prison ministry. He hosts his own religious program on the Trinity Broadcast Network.
"That's my favorite man in the world right there, but for years I put off calling him," Barber said, tapping his cowboy boot on the floor mat and pointing to Phillips. "Bum was the very first man I felt loved me. I made up my mind one day and called him. Coach said, 'Mike, I've been waiting for you to call me.'"
Barber enticed Phillips to join him in a visit to the Beeville prison. Barber asked Phillips if he'd given his life to Jesus Christ.
"I was kind of surprised," Phillips said. "He surprised me so much I lied. I didn't realize how important it was. The God part I was already up on. I didn't know you had to accept Jesus as your savior."
Phillips spoke to the inmates that day 10 years ago and was moved by prison ministry. At age 76, he considered devoting his life to Jesus Christ.
"Can a beer drinker make it to heaven?" Phillips once asked Barber.
"Let me put it this way," Barber told him. "You want to be an All-Pro for God or just a regular player?"
"I want to be an All-Pro," Phillips said. After proclaiming Jesus the Lord of his life, Phillips quit drinking and cussing. He also began attending a cowboy church in Goliad.
'I could be in here instead of them'
The tall fences and rows of razor wire at once seem intimidating. The prison looms on the other side.
The T.D.C. Garza West maximum security unit houses the most violent criminals: gang members, murderers and rapists. The prison chaplain escorted the group through a checkpoint, into the administrative building and down a series of narrow concrete hallways. Heavy doors closed and locked behind the group after each short burst of progress.
Barber and Phillips entered the solitary confinement wing. Each inmate housed in this long, lonely hallway hung his head low or covered it with a forest-green blanket.
Phillips knocked on a narrow window. A balding, sullen-faced man stood.
"Bum Phillips from the Houston Oilers?" the 45-year-old asked.
"Yeah," Phillips said. "Just here to say we love you and we're praying for you. You're in the cell by yourself, but you're never alone."
Phillips walked from cell to cell. Young or old, the inmates recognized him. They told him they're fans or that they root for his son, Wade Phillips, who coaches the Dallas Cowboys.
"I'll be," one inmate said, laughing. "I saw you on TV all the time."
Phillips stepped back and whispered, "They're just regular people who did something irregular. I used to drink and drive. By the grace of God, I could be in here instead of them."
'Get off your lazy butt'
After 20 minutes, the prison chaplain led the group to the yard. They walked to a metal building located at the middle of the unit. More than 300 prisoners and two guards gathered inside. The group passed through a narrow alley between the folding chairs and to the front where they faced the crowd.
"Are you all ready for some church?" Barber said. The inmates cheered.
Music played and the prisoners sang. Some clapped, swayed and hollered. Others cried. The music cut the room's tension like a referee who finally signals touchdown.
"I wish my church looked like this," said Hurta, Phillips' daughter. "Look at this crowd."
"To see them have such joy and comfort, it's just an emotional thing," Debbie Phillips said. "It's something that can convict your heart."
Barber introduced Phillips. The crowd, just as it did in NFL stadiums, cheered in unison.
"There are a lot of places I could be today," Phillips told the inmates. "I'm retired and I make good money, but I want to be here with you. Believe me, if you're not saved, you'll be right back here once you get out. I gave up drinking. It's a problem when a man drinks and wakes up regretting what he's done. Believe in Jesus Christ. He is your savior."
Phillips passed the microphone to Barber.
"I'm a blunt talker," Barber told the crowd. "It's time to grow up and become a man. Just because you bench press 500 pounds does not make you a man. You've been stuck on stupid. I'm fired up."
Barber yelled and moved side to side while motioning with his big arms. The inmates listened intently, barely seeming to notice the hot, thick air that filled the room to the high ceiling.
"Get up off your lazy butt. Stop wearing your britches so low and get rid of the tattoos. 'What it is, what it is,'" he said, mimicking gangster talk. "Learn how to speak. Stop being stupid."
Barber softened his harsh words with lessons from the Bible. He preached scripture and hope. Phillips preached common sense. The inmates seemed to respond.
"I like that," one inmate, who called himself Nelson, said in private. He pointed to his tattoo of the Santa Muerta, the matron saint of death. He said he's in the Texas Syndicate prison gang. "It's surreal, an eye opener. I'm not used to listening to good people. This is a change for me."
Something still to do
The group told the prisoners goodbye and returned to the SUV. They ate lunch in Beeville.
"Coach can say more in five words than I can say in an hour," Barber said, biting into a cheeseburger. "He saved my life. I wanted to know my coach was going to be in heaven with me. Just like he taught me football, how to be a man, I wanted to help him. All I know is we're here and we're on our way together."
The two travel to prisons across the country. They once stood on the sideline during the Crunch Bowl, an out-of-state penitentiary football game.
"I've always been able to talk to people and convince them what I was thinking," Phillips said. "That's my gift. If you get a guy to listen, you have a chance to convince them. If we all had a better belief in the Bible, we'd have fewer criminals. I wished I knew God when I coached because I had a real chance to influence a lot of players."
The group returned to the Goliad ranch and watched college football. On a bookshelf near the TV, a title stood out: "God's Coach."
"Maybe He's still got something for me to do. I don't know," Phillips said. "I'd like to help a lot of people."
His wife mulled again in the office. She walked into the living room and stood straight.
"Bum lived a good life. He was raised right but he didn't know he needed a savior," she said. "He thought if he lived right and treated people right he'd go to heaven. If there's a message in all this, it is that good people need Jesus, too."
Most Fascinating People list so far:
Comments
I so appreciate reading these kind of wonderful stories. I once got Mr. Phillips' autograph on a napkin during a lunch hour at the Swinging Doors Cafe in Richmond, Texas, I cherished that autograph and then someone took it. I am with joy in my heart to know Mr. Phillips is using his popularity for the grace of God.
November 30, 2009 at 2:08 p.m.so that makes PEPPER #1, lol.
what is up with RLW????? We know Nation is still in the playoffs or is he just keeps reminding himself that they are this far? Would like to see you guys play Lake Travis if in the same bracket!
November 30, 2009 at 1:19 p.m.This comment was removed by the site staff for violation of the usage agreement.
November 30, 2009 at 12:55 p.m.I LOVE BUM PHILLIPS! I called Coach Phillips in 1996 when I was A.D./Head Football Coach in Goliad and I left a message on his home phone offering him a coaching position on our staff. People thought I was crazy and maybe I am but I thought it was worth a shot to be around my hero. I thought he was my hero then and I know he is my hero now. Vernon Glass coached with me at Goliad and Coach Phillips would have been icing on the cake.
November 30, 2009 at 12:54 p.m.Great Article Gabe, Thanks for reporting on a new topic and telling us something we didn't know.
Bum,A Merry Christmas to you and your family!
November 29, 2009 at 9:18 a.m.This is Awesome! Such a great thing that such a great person will spend his time helping others! I've had the honor of hearing Barber live and it was a great life changing experience. I was one of those people that knew religion but had no relations hip with my Lord and Savior. It is Awesome to see God work though people! Keep up the great job that God has called you to do Barber and Phillips!
November 29, 2009 at 4:22 a.m.