Two Things Can Be True: Roger Craig, Football and Formation

Is football a moral issue? I once heard a response to that very question; it stopped me in my tracks. While I do not totally agree, I do know that many parents have stronger opinions about allowing their child play football (or not) than they do about using drugs and alcohol.  Some liken the NFL to the Roman Empire, replete with its gladiatorial games. They would be more than happy if football just went away. The truth is, it's not going away. And the  Pro Football Hall of Fame's Class of 2026 reminded me why it shouldn't.

Those who wear the gold jacket are not ordinary individuals who found success on the gridiron. These athletes are extraordinary men, and each one offered insight into why football is a great game and how it shaped them. Though each speech followed a similar outline—each man recognizing the shoulders upon which he stands, congratulating his classmates, and acknowledging parents, family members, wives, coaches, and teammates—each was also unique. Adversity is a stranger to no one and extends far, far beyond the losses on the field. (I was unaware of Drew Brees' mother's death by suicide.) And still, the second Sunday in August is a day to reflect and remember, give thanks and extend gratitude to God. I can't help but think that if football is a moral issue, then perhaps we should also ask what kind of men—and what kind of people—it helps us become.

As they prepare for a new school year and a fresh season, I believe every high school and youth coach should consider this question. The purpose of this post is to offer one way to enter the season intentionally and collectively—and to begin answering that question together. Thank you, Roger Craig.

Bay Area sports fans were blessed with not one but two Roger Craigs. This Roger was drafted in 1983 by Bill Walsh out of the University of Nebraska (shout out Emerson family!) and was a three time Super Bowl champion. The other Roger Craig also came to Candlestick Park where he managed the Giants baseball team from 1985–1992. In 1989, he led the Giants to the National League pennant—their first since 1962. Humm Baby!

Selected through the Seniors process, it is easy to make a case for Roger Craig’s induction. In fact, his Hall of Fame résumé was evident shortly after his retirement in 1993 (although Canton regulates a five year waiting period). In 1985, Craig became the first player in NFL history with 1,000 rushing and 1,000 receiving yards in the same season. A Four-time Pro Bowler, Craig is known for his distinctive high-knee running style and extraordinary versatility as both a runner and receiver. In 1988, he was named the NFL Offensive Player of the Year. Fun fact: when I ran the Rock n Roll half marathon in San Jose in 2007, I saw him at the finish line. He looked radiant. #33!

Although he was present on the stage—hugging former teammates and friends, Craig elected to show a recording of his speech. Why? He has been diagnosed with vascular dementia—a condition his doctors believe is at least partly connected to head trauma from his football career. This is the price too many players have paid for football. This reality is at the heart of that moral question. And this another reason why coaches ought to show his speech to their team.

One might wonder, Why would a coach spread this story? One might think, What type of parent lets their child play with the pigskin? Craig explains why.

Today, there's another chapter I want to share.

I've been diagnosed with vascular dementia that my doctors believe may be related, at least in part, to the concussions I experienced during my career.

The changes were gradual.

At first, they were easy to dismiss as normal aging.

Over time, my family noticed it, too, and ultimately led us to seek answers from my doctor.

Two things can be true: football gave me opportunities beyond anything I could imagine.

It helped shape the man I became.

At the same time, we know more today about brain health than when I played, and I hope sharing my story encourages people to pay attention to their health and seek help when something doesn't feel right.

I want people to know this diagnosis doesn't define me.

I am still Roger Craig.

I am still a father, a husband, a teammate, a friend, and someone who loves this game and the people who brought it to my life.

If sharing my story helps even one family or one former player, then it's worth it.

Football gave me everything: opportunity, discipline, lifelong friends, and the platform to grow as a man.

What he says is true: a sport can shape a person into who they become—for better or worse. While the health risks always ought to be considered, the truth is that some men are alive because of football. They need the structure, discipline and sacrifice it demands, and for some, football provides a place where aggression and physicality can be channeled in a structured and purposeful way. Football teaches a person what it means to be part of a team and illuminates how different body types, heights and weights can contribute in unique and essential ways. The 5'7" running back and the 6'6" offensive lineman need one another. The player who starts every game and the one who rarely sees the field are both part of something larger than themselves. 

What we must learn from his example is that coaches and athletes have a moral obligation to speak about brain health and the risks of concussions. While many might be tempted to ignore the issue or stay silent, a team should promote a moral imperative to seek help and follow up on any injury, especially to the brain. For those of us who want football to NOT go away, we must speak truth to this power.

Craig said "I didn't realize I was making history, it just felt like we were doing something special as a team." Well once again, he is making history. We know how hard work, staying humble and keeping the faith can transform a person, a team and an entire city. Living out his message is something every football team should do this season. I would start.

Perhaps that is the answer to the question I posed at the beginning: Is football a moral issue? It can be. Not simply because of the risks it carries, but because of the people it forms. Football will teach something to every young person who plays it. The question is whether we, as coaches, will be intentional about what we teach.

So as another season begins, perhaps every coach should ask: What kind of people are we becoming through this game? And what kind of people are we helping our athletes become?

Forty Niner fans got a sense of who Roger Craig was and is. We are better for it. Grateful, too.

Photo Credits
Roger and Bronze
Class of 2026
Niner RB
Video of speech

Two Words, One Rally Cry, Remembering Humm Baby—Roger Craig

The death of a great athlete or coach prompts personal, local, communal, and for some— a national response. Tributes recall their accomplishments and achievements, greatest wins and toughest losses. For others, it's a laundry list of stats, what they did first...or last. For all, it's the sharing of stories or speeches, a replay of the highlight reels, memories and more. And for the late San Francisco Giants manager Roger Craig, it's two words: Humm Baby.

For those seeking "Inside Baseball," Roger Craig was a Durham, N.C., native who joined the Giants in 1985—in what was the final weeks of a 62-100 season. He immediately endeared himself to fans with his folksy charm, Southern accent and "Humm Baby." 

In the article, Roger Craig, beloved former Giants manager, dies at 93, The Athletic reports

The “Humm baby” nickname he gave to a third-string catcher, Brad Gulden, became a beloved phrase to a generation of Bay Area baseball fans.

“It symbolizes to me something special because he didn’t have a lot of talent, but he gave you 180 percent,” Craig told the San Francisco Chronicle in 2006. “That’s the way Brad (was). Humm-baby.”

The phrase later came to apply to the entire team, and especially, to Craig himself. 

His catchphrase, “Humm baby,” caught on and became a rallying cry for the team and the fans, who were desperate for something, anything to get excited about. His style of managing was unorthodox, with suicide squeezes becoming the norm and the deadly split-finger fastball taking over the staff. 

It was fun. Fun! Imagine that, the Giants playing a fun brand of baseball. In 1987, he managed the first NL West winner since 1971, and in 1989, he was the skipper for the pennant-winning team in the earthquake World Series.  

What might be just as important about Craig's unorthodox managing style is the way that Humm Baby was implemented off the field. 

If you only believe that games are won on the field, then pay no mind. If, however, you think there's more—here's a story for you.

In late September, 1989, I got my Dad to take me to the 'Stick to not only go to a Giants game but to secure the giveaway. A poster. The Pacific Sock Exchange. Two men, one black, one white wore suits in the locker room with baseball bats on their respective shoulders. This dynamic duo, first baseman Will Clark and left fielder Kevin Mitchell though different, made Humm Baby work. I loved both players. With their offensive ability at the plate, the Giants stock was rising.

Kevin Mitchell was the National League MVP in 1989. Though he arrived in 1987, he made an indelible mark on April 4, 1989 with his barehanded grab in left on Ozzie Smith's pop fly. (If you've never seen it, stop reading and watch now).With Clark batting three and Mitch in the clean up spot, the Pacific Stock Exchange led the orange and black to the World Series.

But, none of this would have happened without Humm Baby. In her book Intangibles: Unlocking the Science and Soul of Team Chemistry, Joan Ryan offers a story of what that means in the clubhouse..and not on the diamond between the Craig— the manager and Mitchell, his star player.

One day Mitch was checking the daily lineup card Craig had just posted in the clubhouse. “How come Skip [Craig] puts my name up there without knowing how I feel?” he asked Krukow. The question was a bizarre one. It was not the practice of managers to check with players on their availability to play. If a player was hurt or sick, the trainer would let the manager know. Otherwise it was assumed he was good to go. Krukow could have explained this to Mitch. Instead, he took it to Craig. 

Good managers have partners in the clubhouse. Over a long season, players know other players in ways a manager never can. (“We’d joke that you can sit down in the shitter and look at the feet next to you in the stall and know who it is,” Krukow said.) He knew Mitch wasn’t looking for an answer from him. He needed something only Craig could give. 

Before the lineup was posted the next day, Krukow watched Craig stop at Mitch’s locker and ask how he felt. He did this every game from then on. “I was up late last night,” Mitch would answer. Or, “My legs are really aching, Skip.” To which Craig unfailingly replied, “Mitch, we need you.” And Mitch would play, as Craig knew he would. 

This was a guy who once dislocated his finger taking grounders in batting practice, yanked it back in place, and took more grounders. Craig knew Mitch just needed to know he cared. The gesture took a minute of the manager’s day. 

Some players grumbled that Craig coddled Mitch. But if the so-called coddling made him a better player, it wasn’t coddling. It was smart managing. “I did some special things for Mitch,” Craig told me a few years ago when I visited him at his home in Borrego Springs, east of San Diego.

“He was so important to us. And such a sweet kid. I just loved him. If you don’t handle him right, he’s going to crawl into his shell.” Craig was tending his garden. The proof was in the numbers. In sixty-two games with the Padres and manager Larry Bowa in the first half of the season, Mitch hit .245 with seven home runs and twenty-six RBIs. In sixty-nine games with the Giants and Craig in the second half, he hit .306 with fifteen home runs and forty-four RBIs. And the best was yet to come.

Smart managing. Tending a garden. Showing care. THAT'S Humm Baby. That's the legacy of Roger Craig, who brought much more than an NL Pennant to San Francisco. He brought two unlikely words that when paired together, meant much more. It's not only what we do front stage that matters, it's how we operate back stage, too. It's what we see in other people and how we treat them, what we think is possible and what we can give that makes things go...that catches fire...that prompts and creates something entirely new..and fun.

In 1990, the San Francisco Giants motto was "Humm Baby! Let's do it again..."  Let's....

Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May they rest in peace. Humm Baby. Amen.

Photo Credits
Pacific Sock
Humm Baby Kid
Joy
Memorial

Ryan, Joan. Intangibles (pp. 193-194). Little, Brown and Company. Kindle Edition.