Benny Friedman: The Football Innovator Nobody Talks About

Who do we think of as the "innovators" of professional football? Joe Namath, who became the first media superstar and pulled off a titanic upset of the Baltimore Colts? Clark Shaughnessy, who modernized NFL offenses? Vince Lombardi, who took the Packers from a losing team to a dynasty?

There are tons of players who changed the game in their own right, as well as coaches. Heck, even executives play a role. And who can forget how much television has changed the game? There are tons of innovators out there, but one I must get out there is Benny Friedman.

Let's remember. We as football fans love the rifle-armed quarterbacks. Everyone loves a guy with a cannon—like Peyton Manning—but guys like him started to develop after Friedman's time. Born to a Jewish family, he was raised in Cleveland, Ohio, born on March 18, 1905.

Early in life, he did tricks to help his arm strength, such as lift heavy chairs from the leg and throw them from one hand to the other. Those rather unorthodox tricks really helped him out in the long run.

In high school, he was very much overlooked. His head coach at East Tech High, Sam Willaman, had him try out. Even after an impressive workout, Willaman told Friedman that he was too small to play, and that he should transfer to Glenville, where he'd get a chance.

He did that, and got his chance, earning a starting job. The hate from Willaman continued. "I'll bet you dinner on every high school coach in Cleveland that you won't make a football player out of Benny Friedman," said the Tech coach.

After one game, Glenville head coach Erling Theller benched him.

Several games later, Theller left, with four games remaining in the season. Benny finally got playing time, and went on an amazing tear. He got some interest from big schools like Penn State, Ohio State, Michigan, and Dartmouth. However, his choices didn't become so broad late.

Both Penn State and Ohio State thought he was too small, and while Dartmouth showed considerable interest, he wasn't offered a scholarship for football, but rather for academics, and Dartmouth is 502 miles from Friedman's hometown of Cleveland. He decided to attend the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor.

As a freshman, he had his share of downs. He had another bad relationship with his coach, mainly because of playing time. His coach, George Little, agreed with Willaman that Friedman wasn't a special player. Friedman once considered transfering to Carnegie, and once even quitting football altogether.

But he toughed it out, and earned a spot on the squad for the next year. He only played in a few games, but won all of them. He was dubbed as a star of the present and future, and to make matters even better, coach Little would leave after the year.

Friedman looked rejuvenated, leading his team to 39-0, 63-0, 21-0, and 54-0 wins to start the year. And we thought Pete Carroll's Trojans were dominant. On Nov. 12, 1926, old foes met. Sam Willaman, his high school coach, met up with Friedman, whom he referred to as "too small."

However, that "undersized" quarterback was also a Hall-of-Famer and captain of the unstoppable Michigan Wolverines. The 1926 season opened, and it was the same old for Friedman and Michigan. He led 42-3 and 55-3 wins to open things up, and even beat a tough Minnesota team, 20-0.

Friedman started 4-0, and a loss to Navy hurt their national championship hopes, but they continued to roll and beat the powerful Ohio State Buckeyes.

"Benny Friedman passed all afternoon like only Benny Friedman can," said the New York Times.

Michigan finished strong, ending the season with a 7-1 record, including 5-0 in the Big Ten. Of course, who knows if his skills would translate to the pros? There are guys who had dominant college careers, but didn't have any significant success in the NFL, such as Ryan Leaf, Tony Mandarich, Tim Couch, and Joey Harrington.

The thing is, Friedman did dominate in the NFL. He signed with his hometown Cleveland Bulldogs of the NFL immediately after graduating from Michigan in 1927. Of course, statistics on completion percentage weren't kept, but the estimation is he completed over 50 percent of his passes, he didn't throw an interception, and had 11 touchdowns.

He didn't stop there. In his first five years—with three different teams—he had 56 touchdowns, no interceptions, and a 48-17-4 record.

He was the Babe Ruth of football. He was so far above everybody else. A completion percentage in the mid-50's is considered average now, but the ball was much harder to throw. A good completion percentage during Friedman's era was around 35, and Friedman almost doubled that.

The thing that makes him special is simple. He dominated at Michigan, but he didn't have to make any adjustments in the pros. He looked like the same quarterback. In his first game, he made it look easy, throwing a 50-yard touchdown pass to Al Bloodgood early. It wasn't any different from his days at Michigan. That's how good Benny was.

From 1927 to 1930, it's estimated that he had 5,653 yards and 53 touchdowns. The second-place quarterbacks during that era had 3,770 yards and 27 touchdowns. That's Ruthian. He was exponentially better than everyone else. He beat the dreaded Packers, and accomplished as much in the pros as he did in college. In 1931, at the tender age of 25, he was tired of the media frenzy surrounding him and called it quits. It's a shame he didn't play longer than he did, but his legacy is certainly in place.

Red Grange, who starred at the University of Illinois, made a great point.

"They talk about great passers today. but remember that the football has changed three times since the 1930s, and each time, it has been made narrower and the axis pulled in. Anybody can throw today's football," he said. "You go back to Benny Friedman playing with the New York Giants in the late '20s and '30s. That ball was like a balloon. Now who's to tell what Benny might do with the modern football? He'd be the greatest passer that ever lived."

That's exactly it. With a football that was much harder to throw, he had success that Peyton Manning and Tom Brady have with the ball today, which is much easier to wing 40 yards. It's reminiscent of Babe Ruth. During an era in which batters seldom hit homers, Ruth posted numbers that would even be considered elite now. And during an era in which people didn't throw much—at least not for significant success—Friedman took the league by storm.

Knute Rockne, a former coach at Notre Dame, witnessed Friedman's greatness in person, and described it: "There are those who say Friedman is the greatest passer of all time. They are not far wrong. He could hit a dime at forty yards; besides being a great passer, he hit the line, tackled, blocked, and did everything—no mere specialty man— that's what a fine football player should do."

Who are the best athletes ever? Immediately, the names that come to mind include Michael Jordan, Wayne Gretzky, Tiger Woods, Peyton Manning, Derek Jeter, and of course, Babe Ruth. But add Benny to that list, and put him near—or at—the top.

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