A Frozen Moment in Browns History: Lou Groza’s Legendary Field Goal

The most famous photo in Browns history — by far, it isn’t even close — and also one of the most famous in NFL history?

That’s easy. And the appearance of the Los Angeles Rams in Cleveland, at Huntington Bank Field, on Saturday afternoon for the preseason finale reminds us of it.

You’ve seen the photo. It was taken from the then bleachers/later Dawg Pound/east end of Cleveland Stadium looking down the field to the west, or closed, end on Christmas Eve, Dec. 24, 1950, in the waning moments of the NFL Championship Game between the Browns and Rams.

It is of Lou Groza’s 16-yard field goal with 29 seconds left that ended up giving the Browns a 30-28 win. The ball can be seen in the air on its way toward splitting the uprights of the old-style ‘H’-shaped goal post on the goal line. The players on both teams, including those from the Rams who had to turn around, and the officials are all laser-focused on the ball. The helmets back then had no face masks, so you can see their faces through the grainy image.

It is a moment frozen in time.

The Browns had rallied from a 28-20 heading into the fourth quarter. This was before the advent of the two-point conversion rule, so at that juncture, they needed two scores to take the lead. The Browns cut the deficit to one, 28-27, on the last of Otto Graham’s four touchdown passes on the day, a 14-yarder to running back Rex Bumgardner.

Cleveland was driving again on its next possession before Graham fumbled the ball away with under three minutes remaining. The quarterback, thinking he had just cost the Browns the game, trudged despondently to the sideline. As he passed Paul Brown, the head coach told him, “Don’t worry. We’re going to get the ball back.”

He was right. The Browns defense forced the Rams to go three plays and out. Graham put together another drive following the punt and this time got the Browns into position for Groza to kick the game-winner.

Graham completed 22-of-33 passes overall for 298 yards with one interception to go along with the four TDs. He also ran 12 times for 99 yards.

When the game finally ended, Graham and his teammates, and Brown and his assistant coaches, let out a collective sigh of relief. This was the culmination — the ultimate goal — of five years’ worth of work.

When the Browns began play in 1946 in the brand-new All-America Football Conference, the NFL people laughed.

When the Browns captured the title that year, beating the New York Yankees 14-9 as Graham hit his favorite target, wide receiver Dante Lavelli of Hudson High School and Ohio State, with a late touchdown pass to win it and began to earn his nickname of “Automatic Otto” and his reputation as one of the greatest pressure players of all-time, the NFL people belly-laughed.

When the Browns deja-vued it in 1947 and beat the Yanks in a tough game to win the crown again, the NFL people chortled.

When in 1948 the Browns finished with a perfect 15-0 record and three-peated, the NFL people giggled.

When, in 1949 in the final season of the AAFC, the Browns completed a 29-game stretch over three seasons in which they went unbeaten (27-0-2), and won a fourth championship, the NFL people laughed so long and hard that they cried.

When it was pointed out that the Browns had put together a staggering cumulative AAFC record of 52-4-3, the NFL people just shook their heads and smirked.

When the Browns, along with the San Francisco 49ers and the first version of the Baltimore Colts, were absorbed from the AAFC into the NFL as part of leagues’ merger, the NFL people put forth the biggest guffaw of them all, pointed their gnarly, accusatory fingers at the Browns and called them “a Mickey Mouse team from a Mickey Mouse league” and “the champs of nothing.”

All along, the Browns, especially Paul Brown, the architect of the team and the man for whom it is named, seethed. They knew better. For about two years, the Browns, expecting the leagues to merge at some point, began to practice for play in the NFL and the opportunity to prove the pompous, disrespectful NFL people — and all their other doubters — wrong.

When the merger — and thus the opportunity — came in 1950, they knew they had to win it all, the title. They knew that just advancing to the league championship game and making it close, would not be nearly enough. It was win or else. Win or bust. There was no in-between.

No wonder, then, they were watching the ball so closely in that iconic photo, which is worth much more than even a thousand words. Their hearts were pounding out of their chest. That kick  — that moment — meant everything.

And to think it almost didn’t happen, save for that impressive rally, spurred at the most critical time by Brown’s reassuring words to his heartbroken quarterback, his most important player.

But it did happen, adding so much to the legacy of the early Browns, allowing it to turn from great to historic five years later when the 10-year run ended and the club had played in 10 straight league championship games, winning seven of them. It’s a streak that had never been done before, hasn’t been done since and in fact will never be done again. A stinging loss to the Rams, who had bolted Cleveland for the wide-open territory of the West Coast after winning the 1945 NFL title, would have prevented it from taking place.

Along with that, there is the fact that the NFL decided earlier this year to absorb all the records and statistics from the All-America Football Conference. It means that those stats take on a whole new relevance and significance.

That decision was no doubt greeted exuberantly by all the Browns legends who were looking down from lofty grandeur. They were right all along, in that league was pretty darn good, and more than worthy of being mentioned in the same breath with the NFL.

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Steve King

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