Green Bay
Of all the places in the world, Blake would not have dreamed of visiting Green Bay, Wisconsin, to learn about engagement. It was not on Megan’s list of “Before I Die” destinations either. However, this was a slam dunk regarding their search. The clues for this stop were much more direct: they had a map with Green Bay circled, an article about the 1967 Ice Bowl, and the name Luther Gibbons. A quick Google search revealed that Luther had been on the field in 1967 as the groundskeeper for the Packers. Luther, now almost ninety, agreed to meet the couple at his home.
The address was on Shadow Lane, but Blake had no idea Luther actually lived in the shadow of Lambeau Field, the home of the Packers. As they pulled into the drive of the 1960s-style ranch home, Blake could feel his pulse racing. He had been a Packers fan for years—and so had his dad.
Luther graciously opened his home to the couple. They exchanged small talk for a few minutes. Luther shared how he landed his job with the Packers over sixty years ago. He told stories of Lombardi and other Packers legends. Blake was having the time of his life.
Megan, enjoying the company but not as mesmerized by the stories, wanted to learn whatever influenced Jeff to include Green Bay as a must-see destination. “Mr. Gibbons, can you tell us about the Ice Bowl?”
“I would love to . . . but I would rather tell that story on the field,” Luther said.
“On the field?” Blake said. “Are you kidding me? We can go on the field?”
“If you would like to. I gave up my day job years ago, but I still have connections.” Luther smiled like a kid who just pulled one over on his parents. “Let’s go!”
The old man shuffled slowly across the room and through a doorway into his garage, the couple close behind. They found a golf cart charged and ready to go. “Hop in,” he said, “I’ll drive.” Blake wasn’t totally sure this was a good idea, but they were only going a couple of hundred yards across the street.
As they approached a gated entrance, the guard saw Luther coming, waved, and opened the gates so he didn’t even have to slow down. “Thanks, Larry,” Luther said as the cart sped through the entrance. In a moment, they were at the mouth of the tunnel opening onto the field.
“December 31, 1967,” Luther began as the three-some walked toward the back of the end zone. “The NFL Championship Game—the winner would advance to Super Bowl II. The Packers were playing Tom Landry and the Dallas Cowboys. Vince Lombardi and his team had won the championship the two previous years. They wanted to make it three in a row.”
“I guess it was cold,” Megan said.
Blake looked at Megan. “It was the Ice Bowl.”
“Yes, ma’am. If you call fifteen below zero cold—that was the temperature at kickoff, although it really got cold during the game.” Luther smiled and shivered as he recalled the day. “And with the wind chill, it was minus forty-eight degrees.”
Yes, ma’am. If you call fifteen below zero cold—that was the temperature at kickoff, although it really got cold during the game.
“I can’t imagine,” Blake said.
“Hard to explain. So cold, one official almost bled to death,” Luther chuckled.
“Really? What happened?” Megan was trying to connect frigid cold with bleeding.
“Well, not really, but he did require some first aid. His whistle stuck to his lips, and when he pulled it away, he pulled the skin off—blood was everywhere. I can still see it like it was yesterday,” Luther said with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Other than being so cold, why was the game memorable?” Megan asked.
“Well, remember, it was the championship . . . and the Cowboys versus the Packers is always a big deal,” Luther added.
“Anything else?” Blake asked.
“Well, the ending was right out of the movies,” Luther mused.
“Tell us.”
“It was third down, and the Packers had the ball on the two-foot line with sixteen seconds to go; they were behind by three, seventeen to fourteen. The Packers called a time-out, their last. Bart Starr, the future Hall of Fame quarterback, and Lombardi met on the sidelines. What happened next was extraordinary.”
“What happened?” Megan asked.
“Starr called his own number. He told the coach he wanted to run the ball himself.”
“Why was that extraordinary?” Megan was confused.
“It depends on your perspective. Think about the context and the potential consequences,” Luther said. “It was third down, no more time-outs, and if this play failed, no time to get the field goal team on the field for the tie . . .”
“Unless,” Blake added, “you threw a pass. Then, if it was incomplete, you would have time for the kick.”
“That’s what the Cowboys thought. No way were they expecting a run, much less a quarterback sneak; Starr had not done a sneak all year long!”
“What happened next?” Megan was beginning to understand the magnitude of the moment.
“The extraordinary part . . . Lombardi let Starr do it! He gave him the ball and the responsibility for the championship. It took tremendous leadership courage from Starr and Lombardi to call that play.
“And, as they say, the rest is history. Starr ran the play, scored, and won the championship. It was mayhem around here. We all knew we had just witnessed a game that would be talked about for generations—and not just because it was cold.” Luther told the story as if he could still feel the roar of the crowd. “You know, the Packers went on to win the Super Bowl—it all came down to that play.”
“It was a remarkable sequence of events. Thanks for being our guide today. Let’s head back to your house,” Blake suggested.
As they made the short ride back to Luther’s house, the sunset began to usher in the cool night air, although this did nothing to chill Blake’s enthusiasm; he believed they had just discovered another key contributor to increased engagement.
As they said their good-byes, Luther said, “I have something for you.” He went to a drawer and pulled out a black and white photo and handed it to Blake. It was a photo of Bart Starr, under center, looking across the line, his breath and likeness literally frozen in time. It was the play they had just discussed! “I want you to have this.”
“Really?”
“Sure. I’ve got no one else to give it to, and you seem like nice young people. And this way, you’ll have something to remember me by,” he grinned. “That’s me in the background.” He pointed to a slightly out of focus and grainy image of a much younger man watching history unfold on one very cold day in December 1967.
On the drive back to the airport, Blake was speechless. He finally got out the words “What a day!”
“It was really fun,” Megan said, although Blake knew she didn’t fully appreciate what he had just experienced. “And I’m glad he gave you that picture.”
“Me too.”
“So . . .” Megan continued, “did we learn what we came to learn?”
“I think we did.”
“What is it? To tell you the truth, I got lost in the story.”
“I think a key driver for engagement and genuine care is Responsibility.”
“Lombardi was a genius, one of the best coaches who has ever lived. When Starr suggested the quarterback sneak, Lombardi could have said, ‘No, Bart, I appreciate your initiative, your desire, and your passion, but I’m the coach; your idea makes no sense. Here’s what we’re going to do.’ And you know what would have happened?”
“What?”
I think a key driver for engagement and genuine care is Responsibility.
“Starr would have run any play the coach called. However, that’s not what happened. The coach let him decide. He gave him real responsibility. I think about my own life and leadership. I am certainly willing to follow the lead of another, but when I think about the times my engagement has been at its peak, it was when I had been entrusted with real responsibility.”
“I think you just said something important.”
“What was that?” Blake asked.
“When you were entrusted with real responsibility . . . I don’t think we can underestimate the trust that preceded the coach’s decision.”
“Point taken. A leader must build trust before she or he will be willing to give someone real responsibility, but I still think the key is responsibility. Trust becomes tangible when it is expressed in the form of real responsibility. I think it’s our final driver of engagement.”
“Maybe, maybe not. There’s one more piece,” Megan reminded Blake.
“What’s that?”
“I don’t know, but hopefully, we’ll find out in Texas!”