Brad Oremland is a sportswriter and football historian. You can follow him on Twitter @bradoremland.

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This week, the NFL and the Pro Football Hall of Fame announced 15 new members of the PFHOF, the 2020 Centennial Hall of Fame Class. There is a backlog of qualified candidates, so the Centennial class was a good idea. The selection committee included many qualified and knowledgeable voters: coaches Bill Belichick and John Madden; Hall of Fame players with excellent coaching or executive credentials, Dick LeBeau and Ozzie Newsome; executives Gil Brandt, Joel Bussert, Carl Peterson, Bill Polian, and Ron Wolf; historians Joe Horrigan and Chris Willis; and journalists Jarrett Bell, John Clayton, Frank Cooney, John Czarnecki, Rick Gosselin, Elliot Harrison, Ira Kaufman, Jeff Legwold, John McClain, Gary Myers, Sal Paolantonio, Dan Pompei, Charean Williams, and Barry Wilner. I wish they had more people directly involved with the league, and fewer journalists, but I understand why they shaped the committee the way they did, and it was essentially a good panel.

The results of the voting, unfortunately, do not reflect that.

The selections included:

• Two head coaches: Bill Cowher and Jimmy Johnson.
• Three contributors: Steve Sabol, Paul Tagliabue, and George Young.
• 10 players: WR Harold Carmichael, OT Jim Covert, S Bobby Dillon, S Cliff Harris, S Donnie Shell, OT Winston Hill, DT Alex Karras, T Duke Slater, WR Mac Speedie, and DE Ed Sprinkle.

Let’s start with the good:

Contributors

NFL Films President Steve Sabol is the best selection among all 15 new inductees. The league produced a nice tribute that I’d encourage you to watch, but it’s difficult to capture the impact of NFL Films, and of Steve Sabol in particular. I’ve loved football since I was a kid, going to games with my grandfather at a worn-down stadium that shook when the fans were excited. In all my years watching the sport, probably no single player contributed as much to my enjoyment of football as Steve Sabol did.

For nearly six decades, NFL Films has preserved the past, captured the present, and anticipated the future. It is and has been a ground-breaking organization, and Sabol was the most important sports filmmaker of all time — in any sport. He won Emmy Awards in five categories, the most of anyone in television history: cinematography, editing, writing, directing, and producing. He received a Lifetime Achievement Emmy for “revolutionizing the way America watches football and setting the standard in sports filmmaking.” The NFL Network video tribute notes that Sabol “transformed NFL Films from simple chroniclers of the game to epic myth-makers,” and that’s not just purple prose, it’s true. Sabol was the driving force behind how we watch and appreciate football today, and one of the greatest people ever associated with the league. If you’re looking for a silver lining in this massively disappointing class of new HOF inductions, Sabol’s inclusion might be it.

Paul Tagliabue was an effective commissioner, who expanded the league, grew its popularity, maintained labor peace, avoided the steroid controversies that plagued baseball, and maintained a civil relationship with players, which his successor has failed to repeat. Tags anticipated sports leagues’ modern social responsibility, and made the NFL a trailblazer in that area, most notably by moving the Super Bowl from Arizona when the state refused to recognize Martin Luther King Day. Today, that is widely seen as an instance of inspired leadership, the right thing to do and a sign of unity with his players, many of whom considered King a hero. Tagliabue was passed over as a Hall of Fame finalist three years ago, reportedly because of his mishandling of the league’s developing CTE crisis, but I believe the positive aspects of his tenure merit Hall of Fame induction. He looks particularly good in comparison with his soulless successor Roger Goodell, who seeks P.R. solutions instead of practical solutions and who seems to believe that leadership consists of issuing punishments. ^[1]I imagine Chase would like me to clarify that this characterization of Goodell is my own, and does not represent the opinion of Football Perspective, or whatever the appropriate legalese is. If … Continue reading I do worry that Tagliabue’s enshrinement could lead voters to believe they’re supposed to elect all the league’s commissioners, which I vehemently oppose.

George Young has been a Hall of Fame candidate for two decades. A five-time NFL Executive of the Year, Young began his pro football tenure as a scout with the Baltimore Colts two years before they won Super Bowl V. He also served as the team’s offensive line coach, director of player personnel, and offensive coordinator, before moving on to the Miami Dolphins in a personnel capacity. Young is most renowned, however, as general manager of the New York Giants from 1979-97. Young’s first-round draft picks as GM from 1979-90 were: Super Bowl XXI MVP Phil Simms, three-time Pro Bowl CB Mark Haynes, Hall of Famer Lawrence Taylor, RB/KR Butch Woolfolk, Pro Bowl safety Terry Kinard, All-Pro LB Carl Banks, a RB/KR bust named George Adams, two-time Super Bowl champion Eric Dorsey, Super Bowl XXV starters Mark Ingram (1987) and Eric Moore (1988), nine-year veteran Brian Williams, and five-time 1,000-yard rusher Rodney Hampton. If you pay attention to the NFL Draft, you know how extraordinary it is to go over a decade with only one real bust.

Those are only the first-round picks. Young also drafted Mark Bavaro, Michael Strahan, and Tiki Barber, among many other successes. Furthermore, Young helped to assemble one of the greatest coaching staffs of all time, the 1981-82 Giants, with Ray Perkins, Bill Parcells, Bill Belichick, and Romeo Crennel. The head coaches Young hired in New York were: Perkins, Parcells, Ray Handley, Dan Reeves, and Jim Fassel. Perkins was undistinguished apart from his exceptional taste in assistants, and Handley washed out as an NFL HC. But Parcells is a Hall of Famer, Reeves was a Centennial Class finalist, and Fassel led the Giants to Super Bowl XXXV. George Young is a worthy addition to Canton’s Hall of Fame.

While Sabol is the gem, all three contributor selections are fine choices. I would have preferred Seymour Siwoff, chief executive of the Elias Sports Bureau, to Tagliabue, but the selection committee did well here.

Moving on to the bad:

Players

I’ve written at some length about Harold Carmichael. Four years ago, I called him the best possession receiver of the ’70s. He was a consistently good player more than a great one, and he ranked among the top 10 in receiving yardage only twice in a 14-year career. He’s not a terrible choice out of context, but it’s really hard to justify his selection the same year we’re likely to see Isaac Bruce, Torry Holt, and Reggie Wayne passed over as HOF finalists. I’d rate all three of them ahead of Carmichael. That’s before we get into egregious WR snubs like Billy Howton, Harold Jackson (a Carmichael contemporary), and Henry Ellard. Carmichael’s selection over Jackson, who wasn’t even a Centennial Class finalist, is particularly baffling.

Jim Covert was an excellent offensive tackle with a short career, only eight seasons (1983-90) and 111 regular-season games. He was the best o-lineman of the Bears’ 1980s mini-dynasty, and helped Walter Payton sustain big rushing stats into his 30s. Like Carmichael, though, Covert is a puzzling selection compared to contemporaries like Mike Kenn (1978-94) and Joe Jacoby (1981-93). Both had substantially longer careers than Covert, and both were more impactful at their peaks. Jacoby, a three-time HOF finalist (Covert had never previously been a finalist) who has a similar quality-not-quantity argument, makes for an especially stark contrast. One of the big knocks on Jacoby was that he only made four Pro Bowls, which is low for a Hall of Fame lineman. But Covert only made two Pro Bowls. Jacoby was a consensus All-Pro in 1983, and pretty nearly again in 1984. Covert was a consensus All-Pro in 1985, and pretty nearly again in 1986. They both received All-Pro recognition from NEA in 1987, Jacoby first-team and Covert second-team, and both were All-Conference in other years, Jacoby twice and Covert once.

Furthermore, I think everyone agrees that Jacoby’s peak was higher than Covert’s. In his 1984 book The New Thinking Man’s Guide to Pro Football, Paul Zimmerman (Sports Illustrated’s legendary Dr. Z) “polled 25 NFL old-timers and asked them to name their candidates for ‘best ever’ offensive linemen, and these are the ones that kept coming up,” a list that begins with Jim Parker (the first pure offensive lineman inducted into the PFHOF) and continues through history to first-ballot Hall of Famer Jim Otto, before concluding with three-year veteran Joe Jacoby, “the heir apparent.” Anyone who watched football in the 1980s remembers John Madden raving about Jacoby. In his own book, All Madden, the Hall of Fame coach and broadcaster — and Centennial Class voter — named his all-time All-Madden team. The offensive linemen were, in order: Jacoby, Jackie Slater, Anthony Muñoz, Jay Hilgenberg, Nate Newton, and Russ Grimm. Several chapters later, Madden singles out Covert’s teammate Hilgenberg — himself a seven-time Pro Bowl center, and two-time consensus All-Pro — for praise, with no mention of Covert. In the book, Madden specifically writes that Jacoby “should be in the Hall of Fame some day.”

Jacoby made more Pro Bowls and more All-Pro teams than Covert, started in four Super Bowls to Covert’s one, and played 50% longer. There’s no objective argument that favors Covert, and I’m not sure there’s a credible subjective one, either: Jacoby was a legend in his own time. Covert was just a real good player. I don’t think Covert was a bad HOF choice exactly, but he wasn’t a strong one, and that’s pretty easy to highlight by comparison to other great linemen.

One-eyed Bobby Dillon played for the Packers from 1952-59, during the lull between the Don Hutson and Vince Lombardi dynasties. During his eight-season career, Green Bay went 33-61-2 (.351) with no playoff appearances. Dillon, however, was a star, a consensus All-Pro in 1955, ’57, and ’58. He was fast, and he played close to his man. In just eight seasons, he collected 52 interceptions, returned for 976 yards and 5 touchdowns. He had over 100 INT return yards in all but his first and last seasons, and he led the league in 1956. Dillon was a great player. I’m not a big fan of continuing to enshrine borderline HOFers from the black-and-white-film era, when the league was only 12 ^[2]Chase note: The three All-Decade choices for safety in the 1950s were already in the Hall of Fame. teams, but Dillon was one of the stronger selections in the Centennial class. He died last August, which probably generated some sentimental votes on his behalf.

Now we get to a player I’ve advocated for in the past: Cliff Harris. A Dr. Z favorite — he chose Harris as the “killer” free safety on his All-Century team — Harris was a punishing hitter, one of the league’s best tacklers. He was also good in coverage, an effective slot corner when called upon. He played in five Super Bowls in his 10-season career.

I understand why it took so long for Harris to gain HOF recognition. Defensive backs are judged by interceptions, Pro Bowl selections, and Associated Press All-Pro honors. Harris only played 10 seasons, and he was a hitter, not a ballhawk, so his career interception total is low (29). It took the public, and especially the Associated Press, a while to catch on to Harris, so his postseason honors (5 Pro Bowls, 3 first-team All-Pro) merely suggest a borderline Hall of Famer. The Newspaper Enterprise Association (NEA) All-Pro team, voted upon by players, named Harris twice before AP took notice of him. He’s underrated by the traditional criteria, but he was a devastating player.

The Jets’ Winston Hill was an eight-time All-Star in the AFL and NFL. He was the best offensive lineman, and other than Joe Namath and Don Maynard, the greatest standout, of the only period of consistent success in team history. Hill was never a first-team All-Pro, but he received some form of All-League recognition six times in his long career (15 seasons, 198 games). I don’t think anyone believes Hill was ever the best offensive tackle in football, but he was very good for a long time, and he’s been floated as an HOF snub for many years. I see him more as Hall of the Very Good than Hall of Fame, but the selection committee could have done worse. Hill died in 2016. I wish more of the Centennial selections had lived to see their inductions; eight of the 15 are deceased.

Probably the best player chosen by the Centennial panel was Detroit Lions DT Alex Karras. An Outland Trophy winner at Iowa, Karras was undersized, but quick and intelligent. He was sound against the run, and a superior pass rusher. An All-Pro every year from 1960-62, Karras was suspended for gambling in 1963. He returned to make All-NFL again every year from 1964-69, including a consensus selection in 1965. He was a successful actor after his playing career, which may have delayed his HOF induction, as the voters sometimes resent publicity, especially the variety perceived as less respectable. Karras was a loose cannon, an actor and pro wrestler who made impolitic public statements, and combined with the gambling suspension, that kept him out of Canton for many years. Purely on the basis of his play, he probably should have been inducted decades ago.

I wrote recently about the disproportionate honors showered upon members of Pittsburgh’s Steel Curtain dynasty, but I also wrote in 2018, of Steeler receivers Lynn Swann and John Stallworth, “I’d trade both receivers to get Donnie Shell inducted.” Shell played for 14 seasons, over 200 games, made five Pro Bowls, and retired with 51 interceptions. As a point of comparison, fellow strong safety Troy Polamalu retired with 32 interceptions. Shell was a true strong safety, a serious hitter and a plus run defender in addition to his ballhawking skills. And of course, Shell won four Super Bowl rings.

Duke Slater is the oldest player selected by the Centennial committee, playing tackle from 1922-31 for the Chicago Cardinals and two teams that shut down before Slater retired. Here’s how Jim J. Campbell introduced Slater’s career, for a profile in Total Football II:

In the pioneering days of the NFL, there were a handful of African-American players. They seldom played more than a few years, and there were seldom more than two per team. Given that, Fred (Duke) Slater’s career was noteworthy on two counts. None of the early black players played as long as Slater (10 years) and none surpassed his level of performance.

Slater, who graduated from law school during his playing career and became a judge afterward, was named All-Pro seven times. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen film of Slater, but he was highly regarded despite racial prejudice during, and for many years after, his career. He’s been mentioned as a Hall of Fame snub for decades. I’ve written a number of times that I believe there are too many really old players in the Hall of Fame, and I’m not sympathetic to the arguments on behalf of Pre-Modern two-way players. The exceptions are Slater and Green Bay Packers end LaVern Dilweg, who was also considered by the Centennial committee. I’m surprised Dilweg didn’t make it.

I wrote at length about Mac Speedie for my series on the greatest wide receivers of all time. If you’re interested in Speedie, I’d encourage you to read his profile in that series. With respect to the Hall of Fame, the argument is simple, and necessarily compares Speedie to his teammate and fellow receiver Dante Lavelli, who was elected to the Hall of Fame in 1975. His advocates point out that Speedie compares favorably to Lavelli, while his detractors cite his short career in the NFL. For years, I fell into the first camp. Lavelli is in the Hall, and Speedie was even better than Lavelli, so he should be in, too. But is Lavelli deserving? To me, they’re both borderline candidates. Lavelli’s in, and I don’t have a problem with that, and Speedie was out, and that seemed reasonable, too. But Speedie was better than Lavelli.

Ultimately, this is another case of a borderline Hall of Famer chosen for the Centennial class. It’s not that these guys are bad choices, for the most part. Speedie is a reasonable selection, I believe. He was a standout player on the greatest dynasty of all time, a team that probably deserved more Hall of Fame recognition, plus his election is a positive step toward acknowledgement of the AAFC, which was absolutely, unquestionably a major league. But I don’t believe that his induction should have been a priority; the Centennial Hall of Fame Class was commissioned to correct longstanding oversights, to right the wrongs of the past. There are some really egregious snubs out there, especially among receivers, and Speedie wasn’t at the top of that list. To the extent I’m critiquing most of these selections, it’s in comparison to alternatives who were passed over.

Finally, Ed Sprinkle, The Claw. Despite Collier’s magazine naming him “The Meanest Man in Pro Football,” Sprinkle was not regarded as a dirty player — though his nickname was earned partly by ripping off opponents’ helmets. One of the first great pass rushers, Sprinkle played end for the Bears from 1944-55. He was not an offensive standout, which limited his All-Pro recognition in the two-way 1940s, but he was a perennial selection once separate offensive and defensive selections became the norm in the ’50s. Sprinkle is another borderline Hall of Famer. If I had sole discretion over who was in and who was out, I would have him in. For the Centennial class, there are other players I would have prioritized.

Among the 10 players chosen, I rate Harris, Karras, Shell, and Slater most highly. Dillon, Speedie, and Sprinkle were fine selections as well. That leaves Carmichael, Covert, and Hill. Hill is my favorite of the three, and Carmichael my least. None of them are disgraces to Canton, but I would be willing to argue that Covert and Carmichael are the worst players at their respective positions in the Hall of Fame.

In keeping with an oft-used a classic trope, we proceed from the good (Contributors) to the bad (Players) to the ugly:

Coaches

If you’re interested in learning more about my perspective on what makes coaches great, I’d encourage you to check out my 2012 ranking of the greatest coaches in NFL history. Obviously it’s outdated now, but the only major changes are Bill Belichick, whom I believe now should be ranked as the greatest coach in history, or second to Paul Brown if you place a heavy emphasis on innovation and lasting contributions to the game, and Andy Reid, who would be on the Honorable Mention list. The impressions you’ll find in that article are mostly the same way I feel today. If you prefer not to follow the link, it may be helpful to know that I heavily value lasting contributions, in the forms of both strategic innovation and coaching trees. To me, part of being a great coach is forcing other coaches to imitate you, and part of being a great coach is surrounding yourself with talented assistants, and/or teaching your assistants to be great coaches.

Bill Cowher was a consistently successful head coach. He had 11 winning seasons in 15 years, and never finished worse than 6-10. He led teams to the Super Bowl a decade apart, and won Super Bowl XL. Cowher ranks 20th all-time in head coaching wins, and his .623 winning percentage (149-90-1) ranks 6th among the top 20, trailing only Bill Belichick, George Halas, Don Shula, Paul Brown, and Curly Lambeau. I don’t like Bill Cowher on the CBS pregame show, but when he was with the Steelers I always felt like he was a coach I’d want to play for.

I don’t think Cowher was an urgent selection to the Hall of Fame; I prefer fellow Centennial finalist Don Coryell, as well as Marty Schottenheimer and George Seifert, and a number of modestly successful head coaches with hugely significant assistant coaching careers. But I think the feeling after the Steelers won Super Bowl XL was that Cowher had cemented his Hall of Fame credentials. He certainly has one of the less impressive résumés in the HOF, but I don’t think he’s an outrageous choice.

I do think Jimmy Johnson was an outrageous choice. Wade Phillips won more games as head coach than Jimmy Johnson, with a better winning percentage. And Phillips, unlike Johnson, also has three decades as a successful assistant coach. I’m willing to argue that Phillips is more worthy of Canton than Johnson is. I know Jimmy won two Super Bowls as head coach with the 1990s Dallas Cowboys, but Barry Switzer won with that team, too. Jimmy developed the team, and he deserves credit for that, but he also got out when the getting was good. Johnson facilitated a careless culture, failing to rein in the excesses of players like Michael Irvin and Erik Williams, and if we’re going to credit him for building the team, I think we also need to assign him some responsibility for its disintegration. Three Super Bowls notwithstanding, the ’90s Cowboys were not a great dynasty; they only had 5-6 good seasons, and the party school atmosphere that Johnson brought from Miami to Dallas was part of the reason.

Johnson was an excellent talent evaluator, but he wasn’t a great innovator, and he didn’t produce a great coaching tree. He made an excellent hire at offensive coordinator with Norv Turner ^[3]Turner also won almost 50% more games as a head coach than Johnson did but his lasting contributions to the sport are pretty sparse. I don’t think every great coach needs to shape the future of the game, but every coach in the era of the 16-game schedule who has fewer than 100 wins and a winning percentage of barely .550 does.

There are half a dozen HOF-eligible coaches who won more than twice as many games as Johnson and aren’t in. Compare Jimmy Johnson to his contemporary Mike Holmgren, who took two different teams to the Super Bowl and once had a coaching tree that made up a quarter of the league. Johnson won 80 games, with a .556 winning percentage. Holmgren won 161 games, with a .592 winning percentage. What did Jimmy do to make up for Holmgren having more than twice as many wins and a significantly higher winning percentage, plus replicating his success with a second team, which Johnson failed to do? Johnson won two Super Bowls in Dallas but fizzled in Miami. Holmgren won a Super Bowl in Green Bay, nearly repeated the following season, and later led Seattle to Super Bowl XL. Johnson didn’t invent new strategies, he didn’t spawn a great coaching tree, and Barry Switzer duplicated his success.

How about another Johnson contemporary, Mike Shanahan? Shanny, like Johnson, coached in back-to-back Super Bowl victories. But Shanahan won more than twice as many games as Johnson, though Johnson’s winning percentage was marginally higher, .556 to Shanahan’s .552. Shanahan’s peak was just as high as Johnson’s, but he sustained success for much longer, and I doubt anyone would argue that Johnson did more to develop the Cowboys’ talent than Shanahan did for stars like Terrell Davis and Shannon Sharpe. Shanahan was also the offensive coordinator for three Super Bowl teams, and worked with Steve Young in both of Young’s MVP seasons. Even if we want to assign massive credit for developing players, which I (and Troy Aikman) would argue should go primarily to Turner rather than Johnson, does Jimmy deserve more credit for the Cowboys’ Triplets than Shanahan does for Young, Davis, and undrafted WR Rod Smith?

Johnson has exactly the same career record, 80-64, as Brian Billick. Johnson won two Super Bowls, Billick one. Think about how willing you are to consider Brian Billick as a Hall of Fame candidate. Is another Super Bowl win all Billick needs to join the immortals? Johnson ranks 60th all-time in head coaching wins. He has fewer wins than any HOF coach whose career began after World War II. Actually, the only HOF coaches with fewer wins are Greasy Neale (1941-50, 63-43-5, 2 championships) and Guy Chamberlin (1922-27, 58-16-7, 4 championships).

Among the 12 Super Bowl-era head coaches in the Pro Football Hall of Fame, Johnson ranks dead last in both wins and winning percentage, though he’s middle of the pack in Super Bowl victories. Seven of the other 11 coaches won at least 75% more games than Johnson, and one of the remaining four, Tony Dungy, won 74% more, with a winning percentage more than 100 points higher. Dungy is also the best head coach in the history of two different teams, a ground-breaker in the expansion of the African American coaching ranks, and an effective teacher with a respectable coaching tree that accounts for four Super Bowl appearances. That leaves three coaches from the Super Bowl era — over half a century — who didn’t win 1-and-3/4 times as many games as Johnson.

George Allen went 116-47-5. He won 45% more games than Johnson, and his .712 winning percentage is 156 points higher. Allen coached the Rams and Washington for 12 years and never had a losing season. He was twice named Coach of the Year. Allen never won a championship as head coach, but he introduced important innovations on both defense and special teams, and his coaching tree includes Marv Levy and Ted Marchibroda; Allen also gave Dick Vermeil his first NFL coaching job. Allen was defensive coordinator for the 1963 Bears, arguably the greatest defense of all time. ^[4]The ’63 Bears led the NFL in points allowed, yards allowed, rushing yards allowed, yards per carry allowed, passing yards allowed, interceptions, opponent’s passer rating, and turnovers. … Continue reading

John Madden went 103-32-7; his .759 winning percentage is the highest of any coach with at least 100 games, more than 200 points ahead of Johnson. Like Allen, he never had a losing season. Madden coached the team that won Super Bowl XI, and his teams reached the conference championship game in seven of his 10 seasons; Jimmy Johnson’s teams played for the conference championship in two of his nine seasons. For whatever it’s worth, Madden also went on to become the most iconic and beloved announcer in the history of the sport.

That leaves Bill Walsh, previously the only HOF coach of the Super Bowl era with fewer than 100 wins. Walsh went 92-59-1, which is 12 wins and 53 percentage points higher than Johnson. He also coached three Super Bowl victories, and is the most influential offensive coach of the Modern Era. His coaching tree makes up something like half the NFL.

I’m not saying every HOF coach needs to be Bill Walsh, but Jimmy Johnson’s record isn’t comparable to any HOF coach. No Hall of Fame coach in the last 90 years has sustained success so little as Johnson, and the only one who comes at all close was a true mastermind who revolutionized the game in ways that are still felt today. Johnson is a colossal outlier among Modern Era HOF coaches.

With his selection as part of the 2020 Centennial Hall of Fame Class, Jimmy Johnson is the worst coach in the PFHOF. Weeb Ewbank, probably the previous owner of that dubious honor, went 130-129-7, but he won three championships with two different teams, ^[5]Including arguably the two most important games in history and spawned an impressive coaching tree that included Chuck Knox and Buddy Ryan, the latter of whom still has a vibrant branch of Ewbank’s coaching tree. Does anyone in today’s NFL owe a noticeable debt to Johnson or any of his assistants? Marv Levy, another possibility, won 80% more NFL games than Johnson, with a higher winning percentage, and he won two Grey Cups with the Montreal Alouettes in addition to making four straight Super Bowl appearances, the only coach to do so. Levy also helped pioneer the use of no-huddle offense outside of two-minute drill situations, as a strategy for disrupting the defense, and he helmed the only consistently successful NFL iteration of the run & shoot.

The Centennial selection committee, including some of Johnson’s friends, passed over Don Coryell (111-83-1, .572), a massive innovator who was successful with both the Cardinals and Chargers. It passed over Marty Schottenheimer (200-126-1, .613), 8th all-time in head coaching wins, who won division titles with three different teams and whose coaching tree includes Super Bowl-winning coaches Bill Cowher and Mike McCarthy. It passed over George Seifert, who, like Johnson, was head coach for two Super Bowl victories, but who won almost 50% more games with a winning percentage almost 100 points higher. I can’t imagine any criteria that ranks Johnson ahead of all three of those coaches, to say nothing of other potential contenders like Shanahan and Holmgren.

I don’t hate Jimmy Johnson. He simply doesn’t have a coaching record comparable to anyone else in the Hall of Fame; his induction radically lowers the bar for HOF coaches. The twin selections of CBS’s Cowher and FOX’s Johnson make the 2020 Centennial Hall of Fame Class look political, especially given Cowher’s borderline credentials and Johnson’s outright lack of them.

Conclusion

Here’s a concise summary of the philosophy that informs this long post, from Adam Harstad via Twitter:

They had the perfect excuse to make this class exceptional. It is quite literally exceptional, an exception to the regular order! They could have put in anyone without worrying about setting precedent. Or they could have intentionally created precedent.

— Adam Harstad (@AdamHarstad) January 16, 2020

We could have had a class with Gradishar and Howton and Coryell and Sabol and Williams and Slater and Tyrer and Harold Jackson and Del Shofner and Jerry Smith. A class that broke rules and made new ones. A class that mattered!

Instead we get this. A regular class, just more so.

— Adam Harstad (@AdamHarstad) January 16, 2020

To Adam’s list of potential ground-breaking HOF choices, I’ll add: Spec Sanders, a shooting star who dazzled the AAFC and NFL for four seasons ^[6]Chase note: and was relevant this year!, assistant coaches like Clark Shaughnessy and Buddy Ryan and Bill Arnsparger, ^[7]If you aren’t familiar with Arnsparger, please consider reading the obituary I wrote for him in 2015. and combined player/coach selections like Richie Petitbon, who made four Pro Bowls as a safety with the Bears and won three Super Bowls as a defensive coordinator for Washington, and Lou Rymkus, an All-Pro tackle who won five championships with the Browns and head coach of the first championship team in AFL history.

The 2020 Centennial Hall of Fame selection committee did one big thing right, electing Steve Sabol, and many of the other selections were fine. But to the extent the Centennial class changes the Hall of Fame, it’s to lower the standards at multiple positions, notably offensive line, wide receiver, and head coach. I understand why the voters didn’t want to enshrine Jim Tyrer, who murdered his wife before committing suicide, but he’s the best OL not in Canton, and as we learn more about CTE, I hope we can muster sympathy and understanding for its victims without condoning things like domestic violence and driving under the influence. I understand how the selection committee could be turned off by Del Shofner’s short career, or feel that Jerry Smith was a glorified wide receiver, or that Doug Williams’ historical significance notwithstanding, he just wasn’t good enough to merit induction in Canton.

But Adam is right that bold, transformative choices weren’t apparent in the Centennial committee’s selections. Perhaps we should give some credit for the elections of Duke Slater (an African American star in a segregated era), Mac Speedie (acknowledging the importance of pro football leagues other than the NFL and AFL), and Alex Karras (forgiven for his off-field transgressions), and I can’t say enough good things about Steve Sabol. But the Centennial Hall of Fame class doesn’t really set any new precedents, or at least not positive ones, and I think you’ll find a broad consensus among historians that it failed to address the most glaring omissions from Canton. Lavvie Dilweg didn’t get in. Nor did Tombstone Jackson or Randy Gradishar or Chuck Howley. With half a dozen historical snubs at wide receiver, the committee’s choices of Speedie and Carmichael are extremely disappointing. Don Coryell got snubbed again; Schottenheimer and Seifert weren’t even finalists.

There are problems with who the selectors did choose for the Centennial class, but the bigger problem is who they didn’t take. I’d be happy to overlook questionable choices like Covert and Carmichael if we could celebrate slam dunks like Gradishar instead of so many borderline selections. The qualifications of most of the voters notwithstanding, the selection process seems to have been alternately personal and political, emphasizing connections over merit. To those of us unfortunate enough to care about the Pro Football Hall of Fame, it’s a serious letdown.