Tom Landry

Born in Mission, Texas, back in 1924, Thomas Wade Landry cast an

unforgettable shadow along this earth’s landscape for 75 years. What a

remarkable blend of diligence, creativity, and strength in leadership mixed

with dignity, discipline, and quiet confidence in style. What a class act!

More important, what a legacy he left!

Like all famous heroes, he lived his life in the public arena. As head coach

of the Dallas Cowboys, his was a dog-eat-dog world of competition and

violence, where privacy is invaded and criticism is constant. I’m referring,

of course to the high-powered and enormously pressurized National Football League, where head coaches are known for their short-term tenure with any team. To borrow a line from one of the more colorful characters of the past, Coach Bum Phillips, “There’s only two kinds of coaches – them that’s been fired, and them that’s gonna be.” In today’s win-no-matter what philosophy, coaches don’t last.

But Landry did. For 29 consecutive years he coached his team and left such an indelible mark on his players, they scrambled to find the right words to describe their profound feelings of appreciation. His 20 consecutive winning seasons on the same team form a record in the ranks of professional football that will never be broken. Not anymore. Coaches aren’t allowed to stay that long to prove themselves as winners. Greed, self-centered hype, and the public’s insatiable hunger for immediate gratification undermine the patience that is needed to cultivate character on a team.

It was my privilege to know Tom Landry “up close and personal.” He served on our Board of Incorporate Members at Dallas Theological Seminary for 22 years. Faithfully, he sat with us during some of our best years and in the midst of many difficult tests. He never failed to bring quiet-spoken wisdom and seasoned maturity to the table, adding perspective to our discussions and increasing depth to our decisions.

Many heroes look better from a distance. Those who move in closer and spend time behind closed doors with them often tell other stories that surprise and disappoint us. Not so with Tom Landry. The better you knew him, the more you admired him.

Death often opens once-sealed vaults – where ugly skeletons start to rattle

as hidden, shameful secrets get exposed. None of that has happened with this man. His death has only enlarged the public’s admiration. As more of the truth is being told from this unguarded vantage point, the stories only get better.

The world viewed him from a distance and considered him a good man. I can tell you from personal experience, he was a great man. Great in integrity. Great in generosity. Great in determination. Great in priorities. {He referred to them often: God first, family second, football third.} And

especially great in humility.

With the homegoing of Tom Landry, it seems like the ending of an era. The

ranks of humble heroes are dangerously thin. Ours is fast becoming a world of self-important people who wear their successes much too

conspicuously…whose achievements, rather than left unannounced for others to discover on their own, are now arrogantly highlighted by none other than the achievers themselves. Few things are more distasteful.

We long to find authentic heroes who, when examined closely, are even better than we expected. Our longing is even more greatly satisfied when we discover that our heroes have remained genuinely humble of heart.

Solomon once wrote, “Let another man praise you and not your own mouth, a stranger, and not your own lips.” That’s good advice. And how needed it is in this day of self-promotion, chest pounding, and peacock strutting among those in the limelight.

Let’s take our cues from our Savior, who “did not come to be served, but to

serve, and to give,” especially if we’re influencing others (who isn’t?). And

just in case you wonder if I’m being realistic…if heroism and humility can

ever be blended in the same life, pause and remember the man with the hat, who paced the sidelines in coat and tie, looking like a model for

GQ…conducting himself like a Christian gentleman.

We shall all miss him greatly.

– Chuck Swindoll