Hall of Fame awaits
Only 46 players have been elected to the Pro Football Hall of Fame on the first ballot. Anthony Munoz should join that select group Saturday.
The Cincinnati Enquirer
Others have been awed by Munoz for years.
Munoz, 39, recently was named a Hall of Fame finalist in his first year of eligibility, reflecting the 11 consecutive Pro Bowl selections he earned in his 13 Bengals seasons (1980-'92) and the berth he secured in 1994 on the NFL's 75th Anniversary All-Time team.
Though Munoz is almost certain to reach the Hall of Fame eventually, his entry this year is far from assured. Only 46 men were elected to the Canton, Ohio, shrine in their first appearance on the ballot. Munoz, former Bengals quarterback Ken Anderson and the other 13 finalists will learn their fate Saturday after the Hall's panel of 36 electors meets in San Diego.
It's not up to Munoz to determine whether he's a Hall of Famer. Not that he would if he had the chance. Anybody who knows the former left tackle has sensed the unfailing humility that adds stature to his 6-foot-6 frame.
''We're all the same according to God,'' said De De Munoz, his wife of 20 years. ''Some people get blessed in certain areas but that doesn't make them better. That's kind of where he is and who he is.''
So let Munoz's friends, teammates and coaches tell how he has approached the Hall of Fame's doorstep. They know best the strength of his stride along that path, and the unerring direction he followed.
''I don't think you could talk to anybody who would ever say anything bad about him,'' said Mike Alonzo, one of Munoz's baseball coaches at Chaffey High School in Ontario, Calif.
Three knee injuries prevented Munoz from having an extensive football career at USC. He missed 16 of his last 25 games. But with each knee injury, he came back even stronger. Munoz's dominant performance in the 1980 Rose Bowl, when running back Charles White followed his block to score the game-winning touchdown against Ohio State, eased doubts about his health. So did the battery of pre-draft tests he took. At one, he actually broke the leg machine designed to test his strength.
Suitably impressed, the Bengals selected him in the first round of the 1980 NFL draft, third overall behind University of Oklahoma running back Billy Sims, who went to Detroit, and University of Texas wide receiver Johnny ''Lam'' Jones, who went to the New York Jets.
''He hit some balls that went so far. There's a tournament out here called the Pomona Elks Club tournament; back in the '60s and '70s it was the tournament in southern California. They played games on (adjacent) fields. From home plate to home plate it had to be 900 feet. As a junior, he was MVP of this tournament. I'm not going to exaggerate - he hit a ball that almost struck the shortstop on the other field. That ball had to be 475 feet. It was amazing. Then he came up the next time and did it again.
''When he was a senior, there was a junior at Eisenhower High School by the name of Ronnie Lott (the future All-Pro defensive back). Ronnie was an excellent baseball player. But he couldn't hit a curveball and Anthony had a good one. They had a few battles.
''When you throw anywhere from 86 to 88 mph with a good curveball, you have good stuff. Anthony's control was excellent. I just left him alone, because he threw strikes and got people out. He was so in tune with his body. And I think that made him a good offensive lineman.''
''I remember the first one-on-one drill in my freshman year. That's when the offensive linemen block the defensive linemen. Most of the time the defense has the advantage, obviously, because we're not allowed to use our hands and they can.
''(Coach) John Robinson stopped practice and put Anthony on the spot - 'Anthony Munoz, we're going to show you what it means to be a Trojan.' He put Anthony against Gary Jeter (a future New York Giants defensive tackle who was three years older). Anthony moved Gary Jeter 15 yards backwards. There was this silence because nobody expected that result.''
''Paul (Brown) thought I should go to USC and work him out. He had done a great job rehabilitating the knee injury, and he could really move. Everything I put him through, he was just outstanding. ''I was trying to see how he would react to different moves on the pass rush. I was not a defensive end by trade, but I certainly knew how they rushed. So I lined him up and rushed against him a couple of times.
''Then I got tricky with him. I rushed like I was going inside and then I went outside on him. He reacted like a football player would. He jammed me on the chest with both hands and knocked me on my rear. He was very apologetic and I said, no, no, no, you did what you were supposed to do.''
''When he played in the Rose Bowl, my father and brother Pete and I watched the game on television. We just watched him. It got to be amusing because he toyed with the guy he was blocking. Our team doctor then, George Ballou, examined Anthony and told us he thought he was a reasonable risk. George gets some credit, too. We went forward with it and we were big winners.''
''That's the way he played for 13 years, like he was trying to work his way into a starting spot,'' said former guard Max Montoya, himself an outstanding Bengal from 1979-89.
Munoz's influence was obvious immediately. The Bengals surrendered 37 sacks in his 1980 rookie season after allowing 63 in 1979.
Bengals running backs have rushed for more 1,000 yards only eight times. That milestone was reached six times during Munoz's watch. He and Montoya anchored a line that helped Cincinnati lead the NFL in rushing in 1988 and 1989.
Munoz's streak of Pro Bowl appearances was the longest since the 1970 AFL-NFL merger until Green Bay's Reggie White notched his 12th last year.
''I didn't see any flaws in his game. I watched film on him, because they had played a couple of preseason games before we played them (in Munoz's rookie year). I was amazed. I hadn't seen anything like that before, guys trying to get off his blocks and him 'pancaking' them. When we played them, I felt that same type of force. I knew this was a very, very special individual with an awful lot of ability.
''I tried every trick in the book. None of it worked. It got to the point where you knew you were in for a very long day against Anthony Munoz. You just hoped you could survive.''
''His second year, we played Seattle and he got 27 pancakes. Just flattened the guy . . .
''When we played Detroit, he faced William Gay, who would kind of 'hot-dog' it when he made a sack or a great play. He and Anthony were friends, because they were both from USC. All week I told Anthony, you don't want your Southern Cal buddy dancing around. When we got into that game, there were probably seven or eight times he knocked William Gay right off the ground. He just smushed him . . .
''(Washington's) Dexter Manley was very good against the run. He could stay really low and he'd stand everybody up, shuck them right off and make the tackle. Early one game we gave Ickey Woods the ball, and Anthony got under Manley, lifted him, carried him a couple of yards and gored him right into the ground. Anthony did the intimidating.''
''He epitomized the importance of offensive line play at left tackle. He brought a great grace to a violent position in the line. Most of the time, at least among linemen, you'd have the best athlete on defense. I think Anthony brought a pride to offensive linemen that you didn't just have to be fat to be one. You could be a great athlete.''
''Anthony was flexible, nimble and strong, just a unique combination. Usually a guy may have tremendous flexibility but not great body strength. Then you have guys who are unbelievably strong, but because of that, they're muscled up and not very flexible. He had both . . . I never saw the guy really out of position, and when he did somehow get beat for a second, he had the recoverability of a much smaller athlete. When I first saw him on the practice field, he moved like a 220-pound guy.''
''What impressed me was he was very gentle, very kind, not just to certain people but to everyone,'' De De Munoz said, recalling her first impressions of him. ''He's still like that.''
He has devoted countless hours to charity service, which the NFL recognized in 1991 by naming him its Man of Year, an award that reflects a player's contributions to his team and his community. People noticed the integrity of his effort and the warmth of his spirit, in football and away from it.
''Every time he gets a huge award, I think back to college when he went down for his third knee injury and some friends said he'd be lucky to get drafted and he'd never make it in the NFL . . .
''God knows more than anybody else. If He wants Anthony to be a Hall of Fame player, then he'll be a Hall of Fame player. Anthony had that faith more than I did. Bryant Gumbel was interviewing him in his hospital room his senior year and asked, 'Anthony, when are you going to give up?' Anthony said, 'I feel like God has put it in my heart to play football, and I'm going to play.'
''I remember thinking, oh, you poor guy - it might not work out. But Anthony kept going after it. As soon as he was home, he started jumping rope in a cast. He came back and was even more fierce than before.''
''There aren't many men who can have balance. What I mean specifically is, obviously football's a violent game. But Anthony was able to leave that on the field and show emotion off the field in the caring aspect. He exemplifies the two traits every man should have: The time to fight but also the time to be tender and human.''
''Early in his career, we were preparing for a big game that afternoon and for some reason, we were really loose, messing around in the locker room. Anthony took somebody's knee pad and drew a face on it, stuck it inside his face mask, put on his helmet and said, 'This is my pregame face.' You had to be there. At that moment, it was something else.''
''People think you have to be mad to get after people, and that's not the case. He had an intensity about himself. It didn't make any difference if he's mad or not. He was always poised. He played a clean game. The way he played, ability alone was enough.''
''Because he's such a great guy and family man and because he's a Christian, people remember that more about him than his ability to block. He's just a terrific guy, which when you get right down to it is the most important thing, what kind of person you are. And he's the best.''
Anthony Munoz weighed the presence of the 189 inductees at the Pro Football Hall of Fame against the multitudes of players, coaches and administrators who have been involved in the sport and said recently, ''It's still a kind of a thing I'm awed by.''
"It's still a kind of a thing I'm awed by,'' Anthony Munoz says about his prospects for the Hall of Fame.
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Establishing himself
Munoz excelled in baseball, basketball and football at Chaffey. He drew plenty of attention from college recruiters as an offensive and defensive tackle and as a punter, averaging 40 yards a kick. He may have been even better in baseball as a pitcher-third baseman. ''I honestly believe he could have gotten to the major leagues,'' Alonzo said.
The four-year scholarship Munoz received from the University of Southern California, which he selected over crosstown rival UCLA, discouraged big-league clubs from drafting him. Nevertheless, Munoz pitched 13 innings and struck out 11 batters as a sophomore for the Trojans, who won the College World Series that year.
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All-time All-Pro
Experts considered Munoz a potential Hall of Famer even before he was drafted. He didn't disappoint them, or anybody, once he became a Bengal. Coaches assigned him his inevitable place on the first-team offensive line three days into training camp. The total package
If anything, Munoz's behavior off the field eclipsed his performance on it. 
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