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Oh yes, the drawl. Namath's lazy inflections still suggest that his forebears fought under the tattered banners of Beauregard and Breckinridge. But as every true fan knows, Namath was born and raised in the Pennsylvania steel town of Beaver Falls (pop. 14,404), the youngest of four sons of a Hungarian-born steel puddler. Joe is sincere about his deep family ties. In his autobiography, / Can't Wait Until Tomorrow...'Cause I Get Better Looking Every Day (written in collaboration with Writer-Sportscaster Dick Schaap), Namath proudly observes: "When I was growing up, my mother was a maid in Patterson Heights, the fancy section of Beaver Falls. At night, she'd stay up late, cutting down my brothers' old baseball and football uniforms to fit me. Now my mother lives in Patterson Heights."
In Beaver Falls, Joe starred in baseball (and was eventually offered a major-league contract), was the fanciest dribbler and best shooter on his high school basketball team, and became one of the town's leading pool sharks. He stayed in football only at the head coach's insistence and ultimately led Beaver Falls to a western Pennsylvania championship. His college boards kept him out of Maryland and Notre Dame, so he headed south to Alabama and the ineluctable embrace of Coach Paul ("Bear") Bryant. No one has ever dominated the Bear, but Namath at least baited him to a draw. Bryant did suspend his errant pupil once for breaking training. On the other hand, Bryant's own mother would likely quail at the thought of slinging an affectionate arm over his shoulder and calling him "Bear"—a gesture Joe regularly indulged in. Namath won Bryant's sufferance by throwing for 3,055 yds. and 29 touchdowns in three years, and winning a national championship for Alabama in 1964. He was then drafted in the first round of both leagues by the Jets and St. Louis Cardinals, despite the downbeat reports of his glass knees.
Sonny Werblin, the Jets' high-rolling owner, got Joe with what was until then the biggest salary-cum-bonus offer ever given to a football rookie. Namath quickly won the starting assignment from Regular Mike Taliaferro and the man who had beaten him for the Heisman Trophy, Notre Dame's John Huarte. Before Joe, the Jets might as well have been the Pottstown Firebirds for all anyone cared about them; their only fans were grumpy football buffs who could not afford to pay scalpers' prices for scarce New York Giant tickets. Werblin knew what he was about; in fact, he was positively prescient. "I don't know how to define star quality," he said, "but Joe Namath has it. Few do. If we knew what makes it, we would have had 100 Marilyn Monroes. But it's something Joe will always have. When he walks into a room, it changes." Werblin added in extravagant understatement: "Joe likes excitement. He's single and young and doesn't have to be at work until noon. You can't ask a man like that to sit at home and read a book."