A VERY LONG NIGHT ... AND A SUPER DAY MAX MCGEE MISSED CURFEW, BUT HE ALSO ENDED UP BEING ONE OF THE HEROES OF SB I.

Byline: Billy Witz Staff Writer

DETROIT - Some of the details are fuzzy for the hero of Super Bowl I, which might be attributed to the passage of time or a few too many knocks on the head. Then again, everything was a little fuzzy for Max McGee that day, too.

``One thing I remember is (Paul) Hornung and I are sitting on the bench at the start of the game, it's a typical pleasant day in L.A., and I'm about half-asleep,'' McGee said, recalling the game at the Los Angeles Coliseum. ``We didn't even stand up for the opening kickoff.''

Not that he couldn't, mind you. It's just that McGee had been out all night, escorting a couple of stewardesses he and Hornung had met at dinner.

``I didn't feel too well,'' McGee said.

There seemed little harm in that since McGee, his career winding down at age 34, had barely played all season. So he and Hornung, who also wasn't expecting to play because of a painful pinched nerve in his neck, sat on the bench planning to rest up and plot the next day's activity - a trip to Las Vegas for Hornung's bachelor party.

But that discussion was rudely interrupted when, on the Packers' first possession, receiver Boyd Dowler suffered a separated shoulder.

``You heard this voice: 'McGee, get your ass in there,' '' Hornung said, mimicking coach Vince Lombardi's growl. ``There was another end who played ahead of Max, but (Lombardi) loved Max. He trusted him.''

Bleary-eyed and weary-legged, McGee, who had caught four passes all season, grabbed seven that day for 138 yards and two touchdowns, helping Green Bay to a 35-10 victory over Kansas City in Super Bowl I.

``Max's game was sensational,'' Hornung said. ``There's not too many people that could have pulled it off.''

As the Super Bowl turns 40, McGee's performance that day - and the previous night - is just one reminder of how much it has changed.

Consider the atmosphere. Whereas tickets to Sunday's game are hard enough to come by, let alone afford at $600 and $700 face value, there wasn't much demand to see Super Bowl I. It drew a crowd of 61,946 to the Coliseum, despite the priciest ticket being $12.

Fans were entertained not by the Rolling Stones, but by college marching bands.

``Obviously the world championship is big, but there were 30,000 empty seats at the Coliseum,'' McGee said. ``Compared to playing the Rams, it felt like an exhibition.''

But if Super Bowl I seemed quaint, it was actually quite serious. The upstart AFL, with its flashy offenses and innovative ideas, was pining for respect. The traditionalists of the NFL sniffed at it as gimmickry, but their real resentment arose from the new league driving up salaries.

``That was the biggest game Vince ever coached,'' McGee said of Lombardi. ``A lot of the NFL die-hards didn't want any embarrassments and he put us through a hellacious week of practice. He didn't want to leave any doubt that we had a superior league.''

Now, there are no rivalries, only partnerships. The game isn't an exhibition as much as it is a spectacle, and the week leading up to it is more like a carnival with recreation, entertainment and lavish parties.

``It's become bigger than life,'' McGee said.

It's become so big that when players break curfew on the eve of the game - Stanley Wilson on a cocaine binge, Eugene Robinson getting arrested for solicitation or Barrett Robbins on a bender into Tijuana - it can become a national story.

When McGee sneaked out of his Beverly Hills hotel, he had only one thing in mind - not getting caught.

Lombardi had told the team that anyone breaking curfew would be fined $15,000 - the winner's share for the game. When he addressed the team on such matters, Lombardi was usually just talking to Hornung and McGee.

When he joined the Packers in 1957 as a Heisman Trophy winner at Notre Dame, Hornung roomed with McGee, forming what may have been the original Playmakers. As two of the few singles on the team, they frequented Las Vegas, Miami and made the most out of the usual season-ending swing to San Francisco and Las Vegas. Fines were considered the cost of doing business.

``Their curfew fines paid for our team party every year,'' said Bart Starr, the Packers' legendary quarterback.

Even Lombardi, because he approved of their work habits and trusted their ability to perform on Sunday, seemed to have a sense of humor about it.

``One time he called out Max in front of the team and said, 'Now, McGee, if you go out again - and that stands for you, too, Hornung - it's going to cost you $5,000,' '' Hornung said, before pausing. `` 'And if you find somebody worth $5,000, let me know and I'll go with you.' ''

So it was that when assistant coach Red Cochran knocked on their door the night before Super Bowl I for an 11 p.m. bed check, both Hornung and McGee were under the covers.

The difference was that McGee had his clothes on.

``I said, 'Red, you gonna check late?' '' McGee said. ``He said, 'You bet your ass I am.' He closed the door and I'm thinking, 'Wow, that's a little scary.' Then Red stuck his head back in and shook it, no.''

Earlier that evening, McGee and Hornung had eaten dinner at Matteo's, then a hip restaurant in Westwood. The owner, a friend of Frank Sinatra's, had introduced them to a couple of girls.

``I made a date for later,'' McGee said. ``If I thought I was going to play, I wouldn't have been out on the street. But I figured it's my last game, I'm in Hollywood, I'm 34 - it's time to have a last hurrah.''

McGee tried to convince Hornung to go with him, but he was getting married three days after the game.

So, as soon as Cochran shut the door, McGee hopped out of bed, dashed down four flights of stairs and jumped in the first cab he saw.

``We closed the place up around 3 o'clock, then went somewhere else,'' McGee said. ``I wandered in around 6:30.''

The fire door was locked, so McGee sneaked through the lobby and had to take the elevator. ``I was nervous about that,'' he said.

Then he really got nervous.

``I walk in and Hornung says, 'I got some bad news for you, roomie: They late-checked you,'' McGee said. ``I said, 'You lying son of a ...' And he said, 'Naw, I ain't lying.' ''

Then Hornung broke up laughing.

A few hours later, nobody was laughing when Lombardi hollered for McGee to get in the game. McGee couldn't find his helmet, so he just grabbed the nearest one until somebody brought him his own a few plays later.

Starr knew just what kind of shape McGee was in ``because I'd seen him that morning when I went to go get a newspaper in the hotel lobby.''

Yet Starr didn't hesitate when he looked over the Kansas City defense midway through the first quarter and noticed McGee had single coverage against cornerback Willie Mitchell.

Starr made eye contact with McGee and audibled to a quick post.

``Max was a freak - the exception,'' Starr said. ``He didn't drink that much. He just didn't like curfew. The big thing is that he never did anything to embarrass the team and he was a clutch performer.''

McGee was about 15 yards downfield, slanting across the middle with a step on Mitchell, when Starr delivered the ball.

``I thought it was going to be an interception,'' McGee said of the ball that was delivered behind him. ``I reached back just trying to knock it down and the (ball) stuck in my hand.''

McGee pulled it in and outraced Mitchell to the end zone for a 37-yard touchdown, the first in Super Bowl history.

Starr kept looking for McGee all afternoon. Late in the third quarter, he made a juggling catch of a 13-yard pass - just avoiding a goalpost, which then were located on the goal line - to put Green Bay comfortably ahead, 28-10.

``When I got back to the bench after the second touchdown, Hornung said, 'McGee ... they're going to give you the MVP,' '' McGee said of the award that came with a new car. ``I said, 'Naw, they'll give it to Bart,' which they did - and deservedly so because he was sober.''

A few days later, McGee attended Hornung's wedding in Beverly Hills, then took his spot in the Bob Hope Desert Classic and won the Pro-Am.

``Max was most talented man I'd ever seen with his hands,'' Hornung said. ``He was a fantastic pool player, great at table tennis, tennis, handling a deck of cards. He was the best putter I've ever played with and I played with Nicklaus, Palmer, all those bastards.''

McGee was set to retire, but after his performance Lombardi asked him to return for one more season. He caught three passes during the 1967 regular season and one in a Super Bowl II win over Oakland - when Dowler left briefly with an injury.

McGee settled into retirement nicely. He parlayed his experience running a restaurant in Green Bay with former guard Fuzzy Thurston into a career in the business, founding the Mexican chain Chi-Chis.

For 18 years, he also humored fans Packers fans with his frank but funny commentary on radio broadcasts.

Married three times, he lives on the shores of Lake Minnetonka, Minn., with his wife Denise, with whom he has two of his four children. At 73, he still works mornings and puts on two golf tournaments to raise money for juvenile diabetes, which afflicts his youngest son, Dallas, 16.

``Everything I did was to make a living, so I'm sure my drive came from insecurity,'' said McGee, who grew up in an East Texas working class family during the Depression. ``I was always pretty serious about what I had to do, but I also enjoyed having a good time. I didn't see why you couldn't do both.''

Billy Witz, [phone]

billy.witz(at)dailynews.com

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(color) Max McGee