‘Coach Rob’ did Grambling and himself proud

“I’d coach to 100 if I could. … I’m a football coach. This is the only thing I’ve ever done and the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do.”

— Eddie Robinson

So said the Grambling State football coach on the eve of his retirement in November 1997. By that time, Eddie Robinson’s achievements over more than five decades at the former Louisiana Negro Normal and Industrial Institute were truly legendary.

He started in 1941 at a salary of $63.43 a month — lining the field, taping ankles and heaven knows what else in addition to devising strategy and imposing discipline. His only assistant coach was the night watchman. That first season, the Tigers were 3-7. The next they were unbeaten.

Then “Coach Rob,” an earnest, black-haired young man who could give rousing pregame speeches on Saturday like the best of preachers on Sunday, stayed, stayed and stayed some more.

He stayed six years longer than Connie Mack managed the Philadelphia Athletics. He stayed until Grambling was playing before occasional crowds of 70,000 rather than a few hundred. He stayed until he had won 408 games, then the most of any college football coach in history, leaving in his statistical dust the likes of Amos Alonzo Stagg, Pop Warner and Bear Bryant.

Two of his teams were undefeated, and the 1942 squad was unscored-upon. Twenty-one of his teams won nine or more games; another eight teams won at least eight games. He captured or shared 17 Southwestern Athletic Conference titles and eight black-college national championships. His final record was 408-164-15, a winning percentage of .708.

All those victories were only part of the story, though. He sent 210 players to the NFL, starting at a time when few from traditionally black colleges were drafted. The list included seven-first-round picks, four eventual Pro Football Hall of Famers (Charlie Joiner, Willie Davis, Willie Brown, Buck Buchanan) and the first black quarterback to win a Super Bowl (of course, the Washington Redskins’ Doug Williams, who succeeded him as Grambling’s coach).

In later years, awards poured down on Robinson. He received honorary degrees from (in addition to Grambling) Yale, Southwestern, Louisiana Tech and Springfield College. The NAACP, VFW, Boy Scouts and B’nai B’rith hailed him. He was inducted into the Horatio Alger Association of Distinguished Americans.

But then, in the mid-1990s, an unfunny thing happened: He got older, and success slowed to a crawl. His last three teams suffered losing seasons; after the 1996 campaign, Grambling president Raymond Hicks and other administrators lobbied for Robinson’s retirement. That produced a public outcry that resulted in the coach being granted one more season.

The school’s image also was tarnished by an NCAA probe involving charges of illegal recruiting practices. Although Robinson was cleared of any wrongdoing, the investigation supported the belief that he had lost control of the program. Eventually, the NCAA slapped Grambling with a two-year probation.

“When you’re my age [78], people figure you’re old and [football] has passed you by,” Robinson said before the 1997 season. “But I wanted to come back because I love football and I love Grambling. I wanted one more shot.”

Unfortunately, his “one more last shot” proved to be a blank. Going into its final game against archrival Southern in the Bayou Classic on Nov. 29, 1997, Grambling’s record was 3-7. Nonetheless, dozens of his former players and a crowd of 64,000 were present at the Louisiana Superdome to pay him homage.

“We know time runs out on everyone, but it’s hard to imagine Grambling without Coach Rob,” said Sammy White, a wide receiver for Robinson in the mid-1970s.

Grambling lost that game 30-7 as tears flowed among many in the stands and perhaps in the Tigers’ locker room. The defeat notwithstanding, President Bill Clinton called from the White House to congratulate Robinson. Said Coach Rob: “This is a day I’ll never forget. … These 56 years, I’ve been about the happiest man in the world.”

Robinson was elected and inducted into the College Football Hall of Fame, which waived the usual three-year waiting period, and the Football Writers Association renamed its coach of the year award after him. Then, too soon, things got worse for Eddie Robinson. Much worse.

Shortly after his retirement, friends and family began to notice that he was forgetting some things and repeating others. His wife, Doris, took him to a doctor, and the news was terrible: Alzheimer’s disease.

By 2004, Robinson was “pretty bad,” Doris told the Associated Press. She added, “He gets a little worse every day. … I don’t guess Alzheimer’s has done him any worse than it’s done anyone else — we’re just trying to live with it. If I let myself, I could cry. I never thought I would have to be the strong one, but I have to be now.”

Since then, Coach Rob and his family have lived in the shadows, awaiting the inevitable. We don’t know at this point if Eddie Robinson can remember all or part of his marvelous career and life — but surely a lot of others do.