Chiefs Posnanski:On last day with Chiefs, Carl Peterson is defiant and not ready to retire

**Tribal Warfare** · 11:10 AM

On last day with Chiefs, Carl Peterson is defiant and not ready to retire

Ask yourself this: What would you write? Tuesday, in an odd scene, Chiefs former President/CEO/General Manager Carl Peterson stood behind a wooden lectern in the new team practice facility and for 40 minutes or so relived his time with the Chiefs, ripped the media, was overcome by emotion when talking about his wife, Lori, and Chiefs founder Lamar Hunt, was noticeably cool when talking about Herm Edwards and thanked every single person in his Rolodex.

What would you write now? Everyone in town has read a million words about the man who ran the Chiefs for two decades. What’s left to write? Everyone has read about how he brought football back in Kansas City. When he arrived in December 1988, the Chiefs had made the playoffs once in 18 years, and there were so few people in the stands that NFL Films guru Steve Sabol used to send his cameramen out with the order to “shoot low” in order to not show the empty upper deck.

Peterson hired Marty Schottenheimer to coach, and he put on stark black-and-white television commercials showing the Chiefs as a hard-working bunch, and he drafted Derrick Thomas, and he opened up the parking lot for tailgaters, and he moved the Chiefs broadcasts to the rockin’ 101 the Fox to go after a younger demographic, and he put it into contracts that players had to be a part of the community. And the Chiefs went to the playoffs seven times in nine years, they played in front of some of the most raucous crowds in the NFL, they became the biggest thing in the heartland.

Well, that has been written many, many times, including a few weeks ago when we found out Peterson was leaving. So what now? Would you write about the last 11 years of the Peterson era? The Chiefs made the playoffs only twice in that span, lost both playoff games, were led by four different coaches and lost 12 more games than they won. Peterson had built a model of stability in the early 1990s, but in the 2000s there were bad drafts and dreadful free-agent signings and plainly bizarre decisions like hiring Gunther Cunningham to run the defense three years after he was fired as head coach and telling Tony Gonzalez they would try to trade him and then not trying very hard at all to trade him.

No, that has all been written, too. What would you write? What could you say about Carl Peterson — good, bad, diplomatic, insensitive — that has not been written a hundred times already? What could you say about Carl Peterson that would not infuriate or annoy a huge number of readers who made up their minds about the man a long time ago?

Few want to read anything cruel about him now — that would impolite. And yet few want to read anything nice about him either. Over the years I wrote a lot of nice things about Peterson, and every time people would write in enraged — they didn’t want to see him as a real person, refused to believe that he had good qualities. Then, over the last couple of years, I have written that Peterson needed to go, and many people were still enraged because I didn’t say it often enough or loud enough.

He had that ability to tick people off, and that was true even when the Chiefs were winning. Peterson has always been a hard man for fans to love. He never had much of a sense of humor or a light touch. I remember in 1997 asking readers to offer up a nickname for that great Chiefs defense, and I wanted Peterson to be one of the voters. He said, “I vote for Chiefs defense. I don’t like nicknames.”

He didn’t mean anything by it; that was Peterson — straitlaced, serious, organized, certain, wearing a dark leather jacket. And sensitive. That was his most enduring quality. On Tuesday, it made me sad to hear him tear into the media for the first 10 minutes of his farewell address — not because we in the media are undeserving but because it made Peterson look small. He never could let go of criticisms, though, or stories he felt were inaccurate or even truths that had come from unofficial sources. In that way, he went out as honestly as he could.

What would you write? Would you write how in the end Peterson seemed to abandon his hire and longtime friend, Chiefs coach Herm Edwards? It seemed pretty obvious. Peterson spent a couple of enthusiastic minutes praising his old sidekick Denny Thum and aggressively campaigning for Thum to be the next president of the Chiefs. But he only mentioned Edwards when talking about how much he appreciated all four of his coaches through the years. And afterward when asked directly about Edwards, he told the story of how when he arrived in Kansas City he had to fire coach Frank Gansz. It wasn’t too subtle.

Then he said: “I don’t make that decision, and frankly, that’s probably good.” That was even less subtle.

Would you write about how defiant he was on his last day with the Chiefs, how he made it clear that he is not retired, and he still feels like he has a lot to do in football? Many people around Kansas City never appreciated how much he wanted to win, how much those three big playoff losses — 1995 to Indianapolis, 1997 to Denver, 2003 to Indianapolis, all at home — crushed his spirits. He thought he had built Super Bowl teams; he could not imagine those teams losing at home in front of 80,000 raging Chiefs fans. When they did lose, he simply could not show his emotions, not publicly. He needed to present a face of calm. And because of that, people thought that winning was low on his list and he only wanted to fill the stadium and make the team a lot of money.

“Let me ask you something,” he asked me often. “How is someone supposed to fill the stadium without winning? Can you answer me that? Sure, I want the stadium filled. The only way to do that is to win games. Right? How can people think I don’t want to win?”

He agonized over these things. He highlighted what he considered errors in newspapers and sent long admonishing letters to the writers. He could get provoked by agents he felt were unprofessional and by players who felt like they got a raw deal. Also, before every home game, he walked through the parking lot, talked to fans, smelled the barbecue and felt very much at peace with the world.

What would you write? There’s a great moment near the beginning of “Citizen Kane,” when the producer of the newsreel on Kane’s life points at the screen and says: “All we saw up there was a big American.”

And somebody chimes in: “One of the biggest.”

Carl Peterson was one of the biggest. He made Kansas City a football town, and the town turned on him when the losing settled in. He made Chiefs football an event, and then fewer people came to games. He traded for Joe Montana and drafted Trezelle Jenkins. He signed Priest Holmes and Brian Waters and also signed Kendrell Bell and Vonnie Holliday. He kept Tony Gonzalez in Kansas City for more than a decade, but Jared Allen wanted out and so did many others.

As he said on Tuesday, he didn’t do these things alone. There were always people around to suggest, to coach, to argue, to support. But the Chiefs were his team, and like Harry Truman he kept a sign on his desk that said, “The buck stops here.” What would you write? I suspect two words would suffice after all these years. Good bye.

01-07-2009, 12:02 AM	Topic Starter
Tribal Warfare The Boom Boom Room Join Date: Aug 2000 Location: Far Beyond Comprehension Casino cash: $362813	Posnanski:On last day with Chiefs, Carl Peterson is defiant and not ready to retire On last day with Chiefs, Carl Peterson is defiant and not ready to retire Ask yourself this: What would you write? Tuesday, in an odd scene, Chiefs former President/CEO/General Manager Carl Peterson stood behind a wooden lectern in the new team practice facility and for 40 minutes or so relived his time with the Chiefs, ripped the media, was overcome by emotion when talking about his wife, Lori, and Chiefs founder Lamar Hunt, was noticeably cool when talking about Herm Edwards and thanked every single person in his Rolodex. What would you write now? Everyone in town has read a million words about the man who ran the Chiefs for two decades. What’s left to write? Everyone has read about how he brought football back in Kansas City. When he arrived in December 1988, the Chiefs had made the playoffs once in 18 years, and there were so few people in the stands that NFL Films guru Steve Sabol used to send his cameramen out with the order to “shoot low” in order to not show the empty upper deck. Peterson hired Marty Schottenheimer to coach, and he put on stark black-and-white television commercials showing the Chiefs as a hard-working bunch, and he drafted Derrick Thomas, and he opened up the parking lot for tailgaters, and he moved the Chiefs broadcasts to the rockin’ 101 the Fox to go after a younger demographic, and he put it into contracts that players had to be a part of the community. And the Chiefs went to the playoffs seven times in nine years, they played in front of some of the most raucous crowds in the NFL, they became the biggest thing in the heartland. Well, that has been written many, many times, including a few weeks ago when we found out Peterson was leaving. So what now? Would you write about the last 11 years of the Peterson era? The Chiefs made the playoffs only twice in that span, lost both playoff games, were led by four different coaches and lost 12 more games than they won. Peterson had built a model of stability in the early 1990s, but in the 2000s there were bad drafts and dreadful free-agent signings and plainly bizarre decisions like hiring Gunther Cunningham to run the defense three years after he was fired as head coach and telling Tony Gonzalez they would try to trade him and then not trying very hard at all to trade him. No, that has all been written, too. What would you write? What could you say about Carl Peterson — good, bad, diplomatic, insensitive — that has not been written a hundred times already? What could you say about Carl Peterson that would not infuriate or annoy a huge number of readers who made up their minds about the man a long time ago? Few want to read anything cruel about him now — that would impolite. And yet few want to read anything nice about him either. Over the years I wrote a lot of nice things about Peterson, and every time people would write in enraged — they didn’t want to see him as a real person, refused to believe that he had good qualities. Then, over the last couple of years, I have written that Peterson needed to go, and many people were still enraged because I didn’t say it often enough or loud enough. He had that ability to tick people off, and that was true even when the Chiefs were winning. Peterson has always been a hard man for fans to love. He never had much of a sense of humor or a light touch. I remember in 1997 asking readers to offer up a nickname for that great Chiefs defense, and I wanted Peterson to be one of the voters. He said, “I vote for Chiefs defense. I don’t like nicknames.” He didn’t mean anything by it; that was Peterson — straitlaced, serious, organized, certain, wearing a dark leather jacket. And sensitive. That was his most enduring quality. On Tuesday, it made me sad to hear him tear into the media for the first 10 minutes of his farewell address — not because we in the media are undeserving but because it made Peterson look small. He never could let go of criticisms, though, or stories he felt were inaccurate or even truths that had come from unofficial sources. In that way, he went out as honestly as he could. What would you write? Would you write how in the end Peterson seemed to abandon his hire and longtime friend, Chiefs coach Herm Edwards? It seemed pretty obvious. Peterson spent a couple of enthusiastic minutes praising his old sidekick Denny Thum and aggressively campaigning for Thum to be the next president of the Chiefs. But he only mentioned Edwards when talking about how much he appreciated all four of his coaches through the years. And afterward when asked directly about Edwards, he told the story of how when he arrived in Kansas City he had to fire coach Frank Gansz. It wasn’t too subtle. Then he said: “I don’t make that decision, and frankly, that’s probably good.” That was even less subtle. Would you write about how defiant he was on his last day with the Chiefs, how he made it clear that he is not retired, and he still feels like he has a lot to do in football? Many people around Kansas City never appreciated how much he wanted to win, how much those three big playoff losses — 1995 to Indianapolis, 1997 to Denver, 2003 to Indianapolis, all at home — crushed his spirits. He thought he had built Super Bowl teams; he could not imagine those teams losing at home in front of 80,000 raging Chiefs fans. When they did lose, he simply could not show his emotions, not publicly. He needed to present a face of calm. And because of that, people thought that winning was low on his list and he only wanted to fill the stadium and make the team a lot of money. “Let me ask you something,” he asked me often. “How is someone supposed to fill the stadium without winning? Can you answer me that? Sure, I want the stadium filled. The only way to do that is to win games. Right? How can people think I don’t want to win?” He agonized over these things. He highlighted what he considered errors in newspapers and sent long admonishing letters to the writers. He could get provoked by agents he felt were unprofessional and by players who felt like they got a raw deal. Also, before every home game, he walked through the parking lot, talked to fans, smelled the barbecue and felt very much at peace with the world. What would you write? There’s a great moment near the beginning of “Citizen Kane,” when the producer of the newsreel on Kane’s life points at the screen and says: “All we saw up there was a big American.” And somebody chimes in: “One of the biggest.” Carl Peterson was one of the biggest. He made Kansas City a football town, and the town turned on him when the losing settled in. He made Chiefs football an event, and then fewer people came to games. He traded for Joe Montana and drafted Trezelle Jenkins. He signed Priest Holmes and Brian Waters and also signed Kendrell Bell and Vonnie Holliday. He kept Tony Gonzalez in Kansas City for more than a decade, but Jared Allen wanted out and so did many others. As he said on Tuesday, he didn’t do these things alone. There were always people around to suggest, to coach, to argue, to support. But the Chiefs were his team, and like Harry Truman he kept a sign on his desk that said, “The buck stops here.” What would you write? I suspect two words would suffice after all these years. Good bye. Last edited by Tribal Warfare; 01-08-2009 at 11:10 AM..
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