Commentary: Remembering Marv Hubbard

Marv Hubbard died.  His name doesn’t mean much beyond the world of sports and to people under 50-years-old.  For me he was Superman.  For almost a decade he pummeled opposing defenses as a fullback for the Oakland Raiders.  As the following link demonstrates it was a long way from home.  Hubbard grew up in the heart of the old Seneca Nation as the son of a state park maintenance mechanic.  When I was a boy I used to see his dad at the main park garage.  My old man worked for the same park commission and my impression of the elder Hubbard didn’t match the bruising image of his son.  I remember seeing his father one day, soiled and stooped in his dark green work clothes and thinking Marv had escaped the hardscrabble life most of us faced in the Northern Alleghenies.

Along with another local football prodigy, Bill Bergey, these guys were what all local ballplayers aspired to become.  My teammates would practically get into fistfights to be assigned Hubbard’s 44 so great was his legend long after he had left the area and become a west coast football god.

Ten years ago I was hosting a radio talk show in Syracuse, about a four hour drive east of where Hubbard grew up and a short distance from Colgate where he played his college ball.  In between I had heard many stories of his off field exploits and some weren’t very nice.  None of the stories were verifiable and I think some bitter people embellished the truth from time-to-time.  One day I was talking about childhood memories of Hubbard while on-air and the telephone rang.  It was Dr. Nichols, a local veterinarian.  The doctor had looked over our cat when we lived near his office.  “Marv is my best friend,” he explained.  The doctor had played his college ball at Bucknell and one summer after poor grades was forced to attend a summer school program, where he met another rural New Yorker.  The two became fast friends.  The vet also explained Hubbard had been disappointed the year the Raiders won the first championship in team history.  Hubbard had been on Injured Reserve and was denied a Super Bowl ring.  The next year he was shipped to Detroit where he played one year and then retired from football.  Some months later Dr. Nichols told me he had told the big old fullback he hadn’t been forgotten by fans, especially one on the radio, who watched him play.  I’m told Hubbard was very much touched by how I spoke about him on-air.

Now he’s gone a few days before his 69^th birthday.  Far too young for the powerful athlete of memory.  As his longtime coach, John Madden, explains right here Hubbard was among the all-time greats.  In the late 60s and 1970s the only other fullback of such renown was Larry Csonka.  They had been fierce college rivals (Csonka played at Syracuse) and then the Raiders/Dolphins contests of the 70s became as big as world heavyweight title fights.  The fullbacks were the power generators for both ball clubs.

I try and not dwell in the past and living there is a waste of life, however.  On a Sunday afternoon watching Marv Hubbard bull through a line and then carry a linebacker another 6 yards revives all the senses and the sweet smell of youth.  Rest-in-peace, Superman.