Notes from the Plague - Remembering Tom Dempsey

As I stay inside, with the Coronavirus pandemic dominating the news…missing games to play and live sports to watch, along comes a story at the intersection of all that. Today’s note takes us back to New Orleans. I lived there from 1975 to 1989.

Tom Dempsey achieved pro football immortality in 1970. It was sad to learn that Tom, six months younger than me, had been in a senior living facility because of Alzheimer’s and dementia that surfaced in 2012. It was Covid-19 that took him out.

He was the place kicker on the sad, woeful, expansion New Orleans Saints. Before they moved into the new Superdome, the Saints played in old Tulane Stadium, on the college campus in uptown New Orleans. His passing reminded me I took some grainy black and white shots of that extinct colosseum.

Tulane Stadium (1975)

In 1970, the team was only three years old and awful…but on this day, Dempsey kicked the longest field goal in NFL history (63 yards) in the last seconds to win one of only TWO games they would take that season. The old field goal record (56 yds) had stood for 17 years and his record held for 43 more before some Denver soccer kicker beat it…by just a yard…in that thin mountain air. Nertz.

Dempsey Connects from 63 (8 November 1970)

Photo from Bettmann/Bettmann Archives via Google

What made Dempsey special was the fact that he was born with half a foot. He had no toes on his kicking foot and, with a custom-made shoe, employed the old, straight-ahead kicking style…which was the only way footballs were kicked until the soccer players transformed the practice. The man was a brute. Six-two and over 250 pounds and half a foot and no right hand didn’t prevent him from kicking my booty like a routine point-after touchdown.

I happened to play racquetball against Dempsey in 1976…in the middle of his career. He was no longer with the Saints but lived in New Orleans in the off-season. He might have looked like a load on the field but he was an athlete. I was a decent player at the time but not in his class. The one indelible memory from that match is the moment I got in the way of one of his forehand smashes. Getting hit with the ball is common in the game. You try to force your opponent to the back of the court so you can control the front area and make the kill shot that ends the rally. That means you often stand between your opponent and the front wall. Let’s just say that when Tom’s shot hit my back, I saw the front of my shirt pooch outward a bit. I needed a moment to put my internal organs back where they belonged.

Tulane Stadium (1975)

Before the Superdome, billed as the Eighth Wonder of the World, opened in 1975, Tulane Stadium was football Mecca in New Orleans. It was the site of the annual Sugar Bowl on New Year’s Day and held three of the first nine NFL Super Bowls.

Opened in 1926 and closed in 1975, it held over 80,000 spectators. Demolition began soon after these pictures were taken and was completed in 1980.

Tulane Stadium (1975)

After seeing these old shots again, I thought about being outside for hours in New Orleans weather, sitting on wood benches. I remember during many of the games and concerts I saw in the Dome, thinking ‘Am I glad we’re inside instead of outdoors with the heat / humidity / torrential rain / wet cold / all of the above out there tonight.’

Rest in peace, Tom.