Phillips was father figure to Hall-of-Fame running back
Published 6:18 pm Thursday, November 9, 2017
Editor’s Note: On Friday, Nederland will host Port Neches-Groves in the Bum Phillips Bowl.
The game is named after Oail Andrew “Bum” Phillips, a former head coach at Nederland (1951-56) and PNG (1964-65) who went on to greater fame coaching the Houston Oilers (now Tennessee Titans) and New Orleans Saints in the NFL. He died on Oct. 18, 2013, at his ranch in Goliad while PNG and Nederland were playing each other.
The game has been played almost every year since 1925, but this is the fourth year the game is known as the Bum Phillips Bowl, with a traveling trophy sponsored by The News awarded to the winner every year. The rivalry is also known as “Mid-County Madness,” a name regularly used since 1994, according to former News reporter Tom Halliburton, that is now applied to all sports events pitting the schools against each other.
The following is a remembrance of Phillips written by arguably his most famous player, Hall of Fame running back Earl Campbell, shortly after the coach’s death. It was recently posted on a Facebook page by Susan Phillips, one of Bum’s daughters.
By Earl Campbell
There are two people who cross my mind every day. One of them is my mother, Ann Campbell. The other is Bum Phillips.
I don’t know if there are words to describe our relationship. You know the song that Willie Nelson sings, “Georgia on My Mind?” Bum Phillips is on my mind. He’s there every day. The city of Houston has lost one of the greatest men, a man who really fit the city.
I don’t think I would have fit in playing with the Dallas Cowboys or New England Patriots or Los Angeles Rams. God blessed me to play for Bum Phillips on the Houston Oilers. That was the perfect fit for me.
Our relationship started as coach and player. The first time he met me, he called me “EC.” That was the first time anybody had called me anything other than Earl Campbell or the Tyler Rose. He would tell me, “EC, you’re the one.” And our relationship grew into something that was unbelievable. We both enjoyed that country lifestyle.
Bum was like the ultimate dad – the dad I’d lost in the fifth grade. The guys on the Oilers, like Curley Culp and Robert Brazile, used to tell Wade, Bum’s son, who was one of our defensive coaches, “Hey, that’s your brother over there. Aren’t you going to make him run,?”
It takes a hell of a man to do what Bum Phillips did with our team.
Every football player has an ego. They were great college players. Earl Campbell had an ego, too. Everybody wants their name mentioned.
But Bum had a way of keeping us together. Do you remember Willie Stargell and that song, “We Are Family,” that he played with the Pittsburgh Pirates? That’s how Bum did it with us.
We had so much fun. We did things like having a pizza party on Wednesday night. We’re grown men. Why are we having a pizza party? But we were all away from our families and it was a way in training camp for us to get together as a team.
Now you see the guys walking around with headphones and earbuds. In my day, we had those big jam boxes. I still have mine in my office. I would play that country music, and Bum would say, “EC, turn it up.”
We never had a lot to say to each other on the football field. All he had to do was look at me. Do you remember the Monday night game (against Miami in 1978) where I had all those yards? He came up to me and said, “EC, you need 3 yards to set a record. Do you want it?” I said, “Ronnie Coleman deserves to play. I took his place. Let him play.”
He told me years ago, “EC, you know that I love you. We don’t have to talk every day or every week. But we know how we feel about each other.”
When he was sick, he would say, “Come see me, but you don’t have to run down here every time. We know how we feel.”
In his later years, you could tell that his life changed, and I believe he was at peace with Christ. Debbie (Bum’s wife) told me that (former Oilers player Mike Barber, now a minister) had baptized him, and I knew that he had given his life to Christ. That was the name of the book he wrote: “Bum Phillips: Coach, Cowboy, Christian.”
The last time I saw him, we sat with Conway Hayman and my brother Steve, watching Texas and Oklahoma play, and we talked about playing golf one more time. When we played, the loser would have to give the winner a hundred dollars in pennies. I still have that jar of pennies, and we talked about one more rematch.
As I was getting ready to leave, I said to him, “I’ve got to go now, but I’ll tell you something: Boy, you really made a difference in my life.” And he looked at me with those blue eyes and said, “EC, that sounds like a song.”
He knew what was happening, and he knew he was getting close to the end, but he wasn’t afraid.
I loved Bum Phillips like no other. Somebody told me in the airport Saturday, “I’m sorry about Bum. But don’t worry. He looked out for you here, and he’ll look out for you up there.”