Journey to Hall salute to Big John
John Lynch Jr. will be inducted in Canton on Sunday. His dad played a huge part.
John Lynch was on his back, gasping for air, looking up at a group of concerned teammates and coaches.
But then the scenery changed for the Pop Warner quarterback of the Torrey Pines Falcons who’d had the wind knocked out of him. The only person the middleschooler could see was his dad, John Sr., also known as Big John, a hulking 6foot5 former linebacker with size15 feet who was a 13thround pick of the Steelers in 1969.
“My dad said, ‘You know, guys, I think he just needs some space,’ ” Lynch said. “So everybody backs up and he said, ‘Johnny,’ — he called me Johnny back then — ‘if you ever lay on the field again for anything other than your neck, it’s going to hurt a lot worse when you get home.’ ”
The message stuck. Lynch, a hellacioushitting safety, would spend the rest of his football career stubbornly trying to get to his feet when told otherwise by trainers or doctors, as if his father was, again, about to
enter the picture. Yes, Big John had a huge impact on his son, the 49ers’ general manager who will be enshrined in the Pro Football Hall of Fame in Canton, Ohio, on Sunday in recognition of a 15year career that included nine Pro Bowl berths with the Buccaneers and Broncos.
Lynch, 49, was a high school QB who was recruited by powers such as USC and Notre Dame. And he was a Stanford pitcher who was a secondround pick in the 1992 Major League Baseball Draft. He owes much of his ability to his mom, Cathy, a runner and golfer known as the family’s best athlete. But the man who once knocked out his brotherinlaw, Bears tight end John Allred, and was placed among the 10 most feared hitters in league history by NFL Films, is known more for his onfield intensity than athleticism. And that defining quality was transferred from Big John.
His dad was his Little League manager … who was ejected from multiple games ( John Sr. didn’t dispute the charge: “I’m still chagrined. What was I thinking? But at the time it was damn important to us.”) And his dad once chartered a jet to Pullman, Wash., hours after his son verbally committed to Washington State on a recruiting trip and had pointed words for Cougars coach Dennis Erickson (His reaction when this was mentioned: “Oh my Lord.”)
And his dad was livid with Stanford quarterbacks coach Ron Turner after his son, a backup QB who was never given a start, was moved to safety. (Explained John Sr.: “I used to get really pissed off at Ron Turner for not playing him and I’d give him the evil eye.”) And his dad had a supporting role in what Lynch terms the best performance of his football career. That was in Stanford’s upset win over Notre Dame in 1992 in which Lynch’s helmet was taken away after he suffered a concussion.
Recalled Lynch of his dad’s message from his seat near Stanford’s sideline in an era where concussion protocols were nonexistent: “It was something like, ‘Get your helmet and get back in the youknowwhat game.’ ”
Lynch laughs as he relays such stories, but he also has reflected deeply on his influences while preparing for induction weekend. And he wants to place his dad in proper context.
Yes, Big John began taking his three children to 5:30 a.m. workouts at a San Diego gym when John was 8, Kara was 10 and Ryan was 5. But then he’d take them to Mass at St. James in Solana Beach, followed by a trip to Solana Donuts because he also was passionate about faith and fun. And, yes, he’d
occasionally lose his cool with teenage Little League umpires. But the businessman who built a radio empire, selling Noble Broadcast Group for $152 million in 1996, never missed his children’s sporting events despite his grueling travel schedule: He’d regularly arrive just before those Little League games after an East Coast flight — and then take the team to a Mexican restaurant or pizza joint afterward.
“My dad was tough, but tough in a good way,” Lynch said. “Tough in that he had expectations. He was also incredibly loving, as was my mom. They both taught that you have to dream big. And you have to set your goals high. And
everything you did, you did your best. And they were such great examples because they always taught us that it was not just a nice thing, but it was responsibility to give back to your community. …
“But, yeah, I’d go 4for5 in a Little League game and he’d say, ‘What happened on the fifth one?’ He did it in such a way that he pulled it off. And my mom was always there to pick me up when he was a little ticked off and I had to walk home because I was 3for5.”
Kara, 51, who runs a health and wellness company, says her dad “expected greatness” from his children but is a “teddy bear.” And Ryan, 46, a former minorleague pitcher who is the coCEO of a realestate investment company, terms his dad — who regularly woke him for 5 a.m. backyard battingcage sessions — a “softy.” And John Sr. was warm, selfdeprecating and funny during a recent 30minute phone interview. Asked about his anticipated emotions during his son’s induction speech, he cracked: “First of all, we’re Irish, so we cry when they mow the lawn.”
Lynch notes his dad never even spanked his children. And Big John, asked about his reaction when John was laying down on the field with the wind knocked out him, said some of his rhetoric was for effect.
“I never would have put John in harm’s way,” he said. “But, yeah, basically it was, ‘You get your ass back in there.’ ”
There’s no question Big John forcefully directed some of his son’s steps on his path to Canton.
In eighth grade, Lynch began regularly surfing with a new group of friends. His dad noticed a change in his attitude, which included an occasionally disrespectful tone with his mom. One morning, Lynch couldn’t locate the surfboard he was certain he left in the garage. He called his dad at work.
“He said, ‘I’ve got your surfboard,’ ” Lynch said. “‘You can have it back after high school. And you’ll thank me later.’ ”
As a senior at Torrey Pines High School, Lynch took his recruiting visit to Washington State, a trip that preceded his visit to Stanford. During his trip, he excitedly called his parents and told them he’d verbally committed. His mom mentioned he’d yet to see Stanford. His dad was mostly silent. The next morning, his dad arrived unannounced at a brunch for recruits at Erickson’s house.
“My dad walks in and asks coach Erickson and me to come into a room for a moment,” Lynch said, laughing. “I mean, it’s not his house. I’m like, ‘Dad what are you doing here?’ ”
Big John explained to the coach that his son would not sign until he’d visited Stanford. Erickson ended up leaving WSU for Miami a few weeks later.
At Stanford, Lynch couldn’t crack the starting lineup at QB and strongly considered turning his full attention to baseball. But head coach Dennis Green convinced him to transition to safety as a junior. This time, Lynch, who knew his dad would be irate, called his parents and explained that he’d made the decision and it was final. In other words: Dad, don’t intervene.
“That was kind of symbolic of me becoming a man,” Lynch said. “I was like, ‘I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I’ve got this now.’ ”
If not for the position switch, Lynch wouldn’t have been stunned by a knock at his house in Rancho Santa Fe in January. Hall of Fame president David Baker delivered the news that Lynch, an eighttime finalist, had finally been voted into the Hall of Fame. In the emotional ensuing celebration, Big John raised a toast to the son he’d loved deeply, pushed hard and, finally, let go — while clinging to a longheld belief.
He said, ‘Cathy and I are so proud of Johnny,’ ” Lynch recalled, “‘although I still think he would have made it as a quarterback.’ I’m like, ‘Dad, give it up!’ ”