An old hero returns ~ May 4, 1995

David Heiller

When our son interviewed Alan Page on April 27, it brought an old hero of mine back to life, only this time it was real life.

Alan Page football card.
 Noah has one that he graciously signed.

Like many 40-somethings, I followed the Vikings through their glory years of the late 1960s and 1970s. It was a team filled with many gritty players, but the real star was Alan Page.

He played defensive tackle. He wasn’t the biggest player or the strongest. He definitely wasn’t the flashiest. But he was the quickest, the cleanest, the most determined. When you needed the big defensive play, Alan Page came through.

In my young mind, Alan Page was quite simply the best football player ever, the heart and soul of a big, strong, honest football team.

Bob Hertz, Willow River, remembered one game on Thanksgiving against Detroit. Page was called for roughing the passer. It was a bad call, and you could tell Page was angry.

A player today would storm around and get called for unsportsmanlike conduct and a 15-yard penalty. Alan Page just got even. He sacked the quarterback on the next two plays, then intercepted a pass and ran it in for a touchdown.

Maybe that’s how it went. Maybe Bob’s fertile mind has improved the legend. But Alan Page was that good.

Noah came to like Alan Page vicariously, through me and through his Uncle Randy. Randy’s middle name is Allen, and he was such a big Alan Page fan as a kid that he preferred to be called Alan.

Noah loves football. He’s a straight A student when it comes to football. When he read about Alan Page, his young football instincts told him that here was perhaps the best defensive tackle that ever played. Better than his modern day Viking hero at the same position, John Randle.

Alan Page, 
Minnesota Supreme Court Justice 

My respect for Alan Page went beyond the football field. I voted for him when he was elected in 1992 for Minnesota Supreme Court justice. I felt proud when he was elected, because he had somehow confirmed my faith in him. But my respect rose even more when Alan Page agreed to an interview with an 11-year old kid.

How many past or present sports superstars would do that? Most are too busy endorsing tennis shoes, or shunning publicity, or wallowing in it.

And it skyrocketed when I heard a tape of their conversation. Alan Page knew he had an adoring fan at his feet. He had many oppor­tunities to brag and swagger and laugh at Noah’s innocent questions.

But his answers were patient and precise, and they drilled home a central point the way he used to drill running backs: the importance of education.

He must know what comes from the mouth of babes, because some of Noah’s questions beat anything Sid Hartman could throw out, and so did Alan Page’s answers. Two of them stand out.

One was when Noah asked, “What advice would you give kids that play sports?”

Our boy reporter.

Page answered, “Well, the primary advice would be twofold. One, sports are fun. They are very good for health, both mental and physical. And they can be very enjoyable. But it’s far more important to prepare yourself in the classroom, because ultimately no matter how good an athlete you are, no matter how successful you are, at some point your athletic career ends, and you have to become a productive member of society. I would encourage them to enjoy their sports but also to prepare themselves for the future.”

Time and again, Alan Page turned his answer toward the importance of education. I had to smile in admiration. I wanted to shake his hand. Because this is something we struggle with almost every day, with our two kids.

And here was Alan Page, Noah’s hero, MY hero, talking about the very thing WE talk about and work on almost every night. It was so encouraging to hear Alan Page say it so sincerely and clearly.

The other question that stands out was, “Do you think pro athletes of today should be role models?”

Alan Page could have pontificated on that in Charles Barkley fashion. But his answer was as simple as it was wise. “Whether I think they should be or not, we probably treat them that way. I think that professional athletes make reasonably good heroes because of their athletic abilities, but they don’t necessarily make good role models.”

I still don’t really know Alan Page. But he is no longer just my hero. He’s my role model too, and my son’s, and that is good.

Another vehicle tale… ~ September 6, 1984

David Heiller

THE EDSEL, Ford’s greatest fiasco, was introduced to the American public on September 4, 1957, as the first of 110,000 rolled off the assembly lines in Detroit that year and 1958.

Edsel

The Edsel, named after a Ford son, soon became the laughing stock of the country. They were big cars, with a lot of electronic gadgetry, and perhaps ahead of their time. But most people agree that the reason they didn’t catch on is that they just plain looked funny.

It was the round grill on the front end that created the belly laughs, commentator Harry Reasoner said on the radio this week. No car had ever had a round grill before. It made the car look like an Oldsmobile sucking a lemon, Reasoner said.

Ford, I think has the last laugh, though. Just try to buy an Edsel from someone who has one of those originals. They are collector’s items, worth far more than their original purchase price.

Cars are really an important part of our lives. Whether you are one of those people who can curse an engine to life lying on your back in a grease puddle, or you simply write the checks to pay for them, you probably have some stories to tell about a car or truck.

But it seems to be always the negative we remember about autos. Except for those occasional memories of a drive-in movie or a trip to·a Twins game, I can’t think of much good to say about cars. Take my truck, for instance, (Please.) It’s name is Oscar, for my wife’s bachelor uncle, and it shares the Edsel’s reputation for being a laughing stock.

The truck is rusting badly, and leaks air, dust, and snow in the winter. The right door is dented from a tree while hauling wood two years ago. The steering shaft broke last spring, while my wife and son were driving in McGregor at about 10 miles an hour, fortunately. The brakes quit periodically, so that I always carry an extra can of brake fluid. It gets 10 miles to the gallon, going downhill with the wind.

On Monday, while driving about 50 miles an hour on Interstate 35 through Duluth, the latch of the hood came open and the hood flew against the windshield, blocking my vision. I pulled off to the side of the highway, feeling my way like a blind person, and slammed the hood back into place, broken hinge and all.

I’m not complaining. You get what you pay for, and $600 wasn’t a bad price for Oscar. With 90,000 miles, he’ll probably last a good while longer.

But I don’t like to think about Oscar much, because when I do, I think, “What will happen next with this truck?” The answer scares me.

Instead I’ll think about the Edsel, Oscar’s distant older cousin, celebrating its seventieth birthday this week. I knew I should have bought one.