Former Oakland Raiders coach John Madden gestures toward a bust...

Former Oakland Raiders coach John Madden gestures toward a bust of himself during his enshrinement into the Pro Football Hall of Fame in Canton, Ohio, Aug. 5, 2006. Credit: AP/Mark Duncan

We are all better for having had John Madden in our lives, whether it was watching his histrionics on the sidelines during one of the most glorious coaching careers ever, or listening to one of his broadcasts that elevated our understanding of the game while at the same time appreciating one of the funniest men alive, or playing the iconic video game in his name.

We lost a legend Tuesday. After a life well lived — incredibly well lived — Madden died at age 85.

His Everyman personality drew everyone connected with football to him. His legendary Raiders teams of the 1970’s, which included some of the most colorful personalities the game has ever known — see: Kenny "The Snake" Stabler, Ted Hendricks, John Matuszak, Fred Biletnikoff and so many others — were appointment TV for fans of that unforgettable era. His demonstrative sideline behavior was as interesting and watchable as the games themselves — including his rants about believing he was jobbed in a playoff game against the Steelers featuring "The Immaculate Reception." Madden went to his grave believing that Franco Harris’ catch and run for touchdown half a century ago was no catch at all, that it hit the ground and should have been ruled incomplete.

If you dared discuss that play with Madden, you would see genuine anger in his face, because he was convinced that play robbed his own team of a chance for another Super Bowl.

Madden was one of the game’s premier coaches, and his 103-32-7 record represented the highest winning percentage (.759) of any NFL coach with more than 100 games. He won Super Bowl XI and missed the playoffs only twice in 10 seasons. He turned the Raiders into champions for maverick owner Al Davis, and he’d already cemented his legacy as one of the NFL’s all-time greats when he retired after the 1978 season.

But there was another career to be lived for Madden, one that transcended the game itself and turned him into one of the entertainment industry’s most beloved personalities. To watch a game with Madden as the color analyst for understated announcer Pat Summerall was to behold broadcasting perfection. Madden expressed his emotions like no one ever before, and like no one since. If there was a play in which a running back would dash through the line and cut one to his left on his way to a touchdown, Madden would go "Boom!" while analyzing a replay of the moment the runner broke into the open field.

He brought offensive line play into the mainstream by explaining their jobs the way no one else ever had. Madden, a big man himself, loved to describe their movements and offensive line choreography, and he made us smarter every time we watched and listened. He loved Joe Gibbs’ "Hogs" on his championship teams in Washington. He adored Lawrence Taylor’s explosiveness as the game’s best defensive player ever. And he appreciated Bill Walsh’s intellectual style of coaching that gave rise to the 49ers’ dynasty and generations of coaches who have adopted Walsh’s West Coast offense to this day.

"There will never be another John Madden," NFL commissioner Roger Goodell said in a statement Tuesday night announcing Madden’s passing. "And we will forever be indebted to him for all he did to make football and the NFL what it is today."

The NFL owes Madden an incalculable debt for growing its popularity even more during the golden era in which he announced. And while young gamers may have never heard a Madden football telecast, they’ve carried on his legacy through the virtual "Madden NFL" games they play on computer monitors.

He was the most lovable person on television because he was so relatable. A man who worked his way up the coaching ranks with low-paying assistants jobs, he never lost sight of who he was or where he came from. He cared deeply about football, and even in retirement, he advised Goodell and the NFL about important matters concerning competitive aspects of football and ways to make the game safer.

Madden was so many things to so many people. But not to Madden himself.

"People always ask, are you a coach or a broadcaster or a video game guy?" he said after being selected for the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 2006. "I’m a coach, always been a coach."

Perfectly said. As always.

Madden was also one of the greatest interviews ever, and I had the good fortune of speaking with him for a book, "Guts & Genius," the story of Walsh, Gibbs and Bill Parcells and their epic rivalries of the 1980’s. After all these years in journalism, there have been very few times I’ve been nervous about interviews, but the heart was racing for this one. It’s John Madden, for heaven’s sake!

His storytelling was incredible, his recall of the smallest details remarkable. He remembered the time he’d met with Gibbs in the late '80’s, with the Washington coach telling Madden he was glad the team had done away with the "5 o’clock club," where players would drink beer in an equipment shed after practice.

Madden kept a straight face during his talk with Gibbs, all the while realizing that he had just come from having a few beers with the players, who had continued the club unbeknownst to the coach.

He told the story of Walsh, after he’d retired from the 49ers, playing a joke on Don Shula when the Dolphins coach was applying for membership at an exclusive golf club Walsh belonged to. Walsh said Shula’s membership was in doubt because he wasn’t showing his personality to the other members, and he convinced Shula to mingle more with them and open up — all the while knowing that there was no doubt Shula would get into the club. Madden described him and Walsh doing everything possible not to laugh. And they’d never told Shula.

And the time Madden thought he was about to work with Walsh on the Raiders’ staff, and then found out Walsh had resigned to take over as head coach of a semi-pro team. "Before the ’67 season, I’m moving in, and I got Bill’s desk," Madden said. "He was moving out to coach the San Jose Apaches. I couldn’t believe it. I thought, ‘You shouldn’t be doing that,’ but he wanted to be a head coach."

Things worked out just fine for Walsh, and he and Madden remained friends until the day Walsh died in 2007.

When you were friends with Madden, you were friends for life. The bonds he forged with players, coaches, executives, commissioners and the broadcasting community were unbreakable. The impact he left on fans was immeasurable.

We lost a great one. A Hall of Famer by every measure.

Rest in peace, John Madden.

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