Gone the way of the leather helmet, the one-platoon system and $15 laundry money is the latest college football dinosaur the quarterback club.
Quarterback clubs have become victims of changing times, attitudes and technology. For sure, QB clubs at Kansas University are toast.
The heyday of the quarterback club was probably the 1950s through the 1970s. Basically, they followed the same scenario.
First, the head coach and the local good old boys would jolly over drinks, then sit down to dinner. Afterward, somebody would set up a film projector and the coach would comment on the highlights of last Saturday’s game. Then the head man would answer questions and talk about the next game.
When someone says quarterback club, the first words that flash into my head are Jack and Mitchell. It has been said that when Jack Mitchell was the Jayhawks’ head coach from 1958 to 1966, he elevated the genre into an art form.
Puffing on a cigar and tossing out quips like a stand-up comic, Mitchell reportedly had KU’s quarterback clubbers eating out of his hand. Many would come armed with tough questions, only to depart convinced Mitchell was the greatest coach in the world after his charisma had turned their frowns to smiles.
Don Fambrough, who had two four-year stints as KU’s head coach in the ’70s and early ’80s, didn’t smoke a cigar, but he, too, possessed the knack for soothing the savage breast of the armchair quarterback clubber. Fambrough could turn a 48-0 defeat into a building block for the future.
Quarterback club members also expected the coach to divulge information that hadn’t been reported in the media. As the years went by, however, and media attention increased, those titillating tidbits declined proportionately.
Today people see game film clip after game film clip on television and on the Internet. At the same time, fans can query the coach on his radio call-in show, or drive to the restaurant where the show originates for that face-to-face feeling.
Quarterback clubs did outlast another long-time staple of college football the coach’s weekly television show. Expensive to produce and usually stuck in a poor time slot, the mostly redundant KU coach’s TV shows disappeared last year because nobody watched them.
People continued to attend quarterback club meetings, however.
Last year KU football coach Terry Allen presided over four quarterback club meetings in Lawrence and three in Kansas City. In Lawrence, anywhere from 50 and 100 boosters depending in large part on the previous game’s outcome would gather at the Memorial Stadium press box for dinner, then adjourn to the locker room to hear Allen review tapes and talk about the upcoming contest.
As you can see, what once had been a weekly ritual had evolved into a half-dozen a season. And now there are none. The quarterback club is gone, replaced by the pigskin picnic.
They don’t really call them pigskin picnics, but that’s what they are.
“We want people to bring the kids,” said KU senior associate athletic director Richard Konzem. “We want it to be more family-oriented. We get better attendance at those.”
They’ve already had one in Overland Park and another is scheduled on Aug. 25 in Topeka. Meanwhile, in Lawrence, members of the Chamber of Commerce were invited to a luncheon on Wednesday at the stadium, and a Fan Appreciation Day is scheduled next Wednesday at the stadium.
“Some old-timers wish we’d continue the quarterback club format,” Konzem said, “but we’ve found the picnic approach is more effective. The quarterback club is kind of a thing of the past.”
No doubt, too, as the pressure to produce a winner has increased, the quarterback club has become more an aggravation than a necessity. Where once the head coach was expected to spend as much time making appearances as actually coaching, today he has to be more focused on the bottom line than on the public periphery.
Still, it must be hard for the good old boys to believe the smoke-filled room has become the open-air picnic.
Gone the way of the leather helmet, the one-platoon system and $15 laundry money is the latest college football dinosaur the quarterback club.
Quarterback clubs have become victims of changing times, attitudes and technology. For sure, QB clubs at Kansas University are toast.
The heyday of the quarterback club was probably the 1950s through the 1970s. Basically, they followed the same scenario.
First, the head coach and the local good old boys would jolly over drinks, then sit down to dinner. Afterward, somebody would set up a film projector and the coach would comment on the highlights of last Saturday’s game. Then the head man would answer questions and talk about the next game.
When someone says quarterback club, the first words that flash into my head are Jack and Mitchell. It has been said that when Jack Mitchell was the Jayhawks’ head coach from 1958 to 1966, he elevated the genre into an art form.
Puffing on a cigar and tossing out quips like a stand-up comic, Mitchell reportedly had KU’s quarterback clubbers eating out of his hand. Many would come armed with tough questions, only to depart convinced Mitchell was the greatest coach in the world after his charisma had turned their frowns to smiles.
Don Fambrough, who had two four-year stints as KU’s head coach in the ’70s and early ’80s, didn’t smoke a cigar, but he, too, possessed the knack for soothing the savage breast of the armchair quarterback clubber. Fambrough could turn a 48-0 defeat into a building block for the future.
Quarterback club members also expected the coach to divulge information that hadn’t been reported in the media. As the years went by, however, and media attention increased, those titillating tidbits declined proportionately.
Today people see game film clip after game film clip on television and on the Internet. At the same time, fans can query the coach on his radio call-in show, or drive to the restaurant where the show originates for that face-to-face feeling.
Quarterback clubs did outlast another long-time staple of college football the coach’s weekly television show. Expensive to produce and usually stuck in a poor time slot, the mostly redundant KU coach’s TV shows disappeared last year because nobody watched them.
People continued to attend quarterback club meetings, however.
Last year KU football coach Terry Allen presided over four quarterback club meetings in Lawrence and three in Kansas City. In Lawrence, anywhere from 50 and 100 boosters depending in large part on the previous game’s outcome would gather at the Memorial Stadium press box for dinner, then adjourn to the locker room to hear Allen review tapes and talk about the upcoming contest.
As you can see, what once had been a weekly ritual had evolved into a half-dozen a season. And now there are none. The quarterback club is gone, replaced by the pigskin picnic.
They don’t really call them pigskin picnics, but that’s what they are.
“We want people to bring the kids,” said KU senior associate athletic director Richard Konzem. “We want it to be more family-oriented. We get better attendance at those.”
They’ve already had one in Overland Park and another is scheduled on Aug. 25 in Topeka. Meanwhile, in Lawrence, members of the Chamber of Commerce were invited to a luncheon on Wednesday at the stadium, and a Fan Appreciation Day is scheduled next Wednesday at the stadium.
“Some old-timers wish we’d continue the quarterback club format,” Konzem said, “but we’ve found the picnic approach is more effective. The quarterback club is kind of a thing of the past.”
No doubt, too, as the pressure to produce a winner has increased, the quarterback club has become more an aggravation than a necessity. Where once the head coach was expected to spend as much time making appearances as actually coaching, today he has to be more focused on the bottom line than on the public periphery.
Still, it must be hard for the good old boys to believe the smoke-filled room has become the open-air picnic.
Gone the way of the leather helmet, the one-platoon system and $15 laundry money is the latest college football dinosaur the quarterback club.
Quarterback clubs have become victims of changing times, attitudes and technology. For sure, QB clubs at Kansas University are toast.
The heyday of the quarterback club was probably the 1950s through the 1970s. Basically, they followed the same scenario.
First, the head coach and the local good old boys would jolly over drinks, then sit down to dinner. Afterward, somebody would set up a film projector and the coach would comment on the highlights of last Saturday’s game. Then the head man would answer questions and talk about the next game.
When someone says quarterback club, the first words that flash into my head are Jack and Mitchell. It has been said that when Jack Mitchell was the Jayhawks’ head coach from 1958 to 1966, he elevated the genre into an art form.
Puffing on a cigar and tossing out quips like a stand-up comic, Mitchell reportedly had KU’s quarterback clubbers eating out of his hand. Many would come armed with tough questions, only to depart convinced Mitchell was the greatest coach in the world after his charisma had turned their frowns to smiles.
Don Fambrough, who had two four-year stints as KU’s head coach in the ’70s and early ’80s, didn’t smoke a cigar, but he, too, possessed the knack for soothing the savage breast of the armchair quarterback clubber. Fambrough could turn a 48-0 defeat into a building block for the future.
Quarterback club members also expected the coach to divulge information that hadn’t been reported in the media. As the years went by, however, and media attention increased, those titillating tidbits declined proportionately.
Today people see game film clip after game film clip on television and on the Internet. At the same time, fans can query the coach on his radio call-in show, or drive to the restaurant where the show originates for that face-to-face feeling.
Quarterback clubs did outlast another long-time staple of college football the coach’s weekly television show. Expensive to produce and usually stuck in a poor time slot, the mostly redundant KU coach’s TV shows disappeared last year because nobody watched them.
People continued to attend quarterback club meetings, however.
Last year KU football coach Terry Allen presided over four quarterback club meetings in Lawrence and three in Kansas City. In Lawrence, anywhere from 50 and 100 boosters depending in large part on the previous game’s outcome would gather at the Memorial Stadium press box for dinner, then adjourn to the locker room to hear Allen review tapes and talk about the upcoming contest.
As you can see, what once had been a weekly ritual had evolved into a half-dozen a season. And now there are none. The quarterback club is gone, replaced by the pigskin picnic.
They don’t really call them pigskin picnics, but that’s what they are.
“We want people to bring the kids,” said KU senior associate athletic director Richard Konzem. “We want it to be more family-oriented. We get better attendance at those.”
They’ve already had one in Overland Park and another is scheduled on Aug. 25 in Topeka. Meanwhile, in Lawrence, members of the Chamber of Commerce were invited to a luncheon on Wednesday at the stadium, and a Fan Appreciation Day is scheduled next Wednesday at the stadium.
“Some old-timers wish we’d continue the quarterback club format,” Konzem said, “but we’ve found the picnic approach is more effective. The quarterback club is kind of a thing of the past.”
No doubt, too, as the pressure to produce a winner has increased, the quarterback club has become more an aggravation than a necessity. Where once the head coach was expected to spend as much time making appearances as actually coaching, today he has to be more focused on the bottom line than on the public periphery.
Still, it must be hard for the good old boys to believe the smoke-filled room has become the open-air picnic.
Gone the way of the leather helmet, the one-platoon system and $15 laundry money is the latest college football dinosaur the quarterback club.
Quarterback clubs have become victims of changing times, attitudes and technology. For sure, QB clubs at Kansas University are toast.
The heyday of the quarterback club was probably the 1950s through the 1970s. Basically, they followed the same scenario.
First, the head coach and the local good old boys would jolly over drinks, then sit down to dinner. Afterward, somebody would set up a film projector and the coach would comment on the highlights of last Saturday’s game. Then the head man would answer questions and talk about the next game.
When someone says quarterback club, the first words that flash into my head are Jack and Mitchell. It has been said that when Jack Mitchell was the Jayhawks’ head coach from 1958 to 1966, he elevated the genre into an art form.
Puffing on a cigar and tossing out quips like a stand-up comic, Mitchell reportedly had KU’s quarterback clubbers eating out of his hand. Many would come armed with tough questions, only to depart convinced Mitchell was the greatest coach in the world after his charisma had turned their frowns to smiles.
Don Fambrough, who had two four-year stints as KU’s head coach in the ’70s and early ’80s, didn’t smoke a cigar, but he, too, possessed the knack for soothing the savage breast of the armchair quarterback clubber. Fambrough could turn a 48-0 defeat into a building block for the future.
Quarterback club members also expected the coach to divulge information that hadn’t been reported in the media. As the years went by, however, and media attention increased, those titillating tidbits declined proportionately.
Today people see game film clip after game film clip on television and on the Internet. At the same time, fans can query the coach on his radio call-in show, or drive to the restaurant where the show originates for that face-to-face feeling.
Quarterback clubs did outlast another long-time staple of college football the coach’s weekly television show. Expensive to produce and usually stuck in a poor time slot, the mostly redundant KU coach’s TV shows disappeared last year because nobody watched them.
People continued to attend quarterback club meetings, however.
Last year KU football coach Terry Allen presided over four quarterback club meetings in Lawrence and three in Kansas City. In Lawrence, anywhere from 50 and 100 boosters depending in large part on the previous game’s outcome would gather at the Memorial Stadium press box for dinner, then adjourn to the locker room to hear Allen review tapes and talk about the upcoming contest.
As you can see, what once had been a weekly ritual had evolved into a half-dozen a season. And now there are none. The quarterback club is gone, replaced by the pigskin picnic.
They don’t really call them pigskin picnics, but that’s what they are.
“We want people to bring the kids,” said KU senior associate athletic director Richard Konzem. “We want it to be more family-oriented. We get better attendance at those.”
They’ve already had one in Overland Park and another is scheduled on Aug. 25 in Topeka. Meanwhile, in Lawrence, members of the Chamber of Commerce were invited to a luncheon on Wednesday at the stadium, and a Fan Appreciation Day is scheduled next Wednesday at the stadium.
“Some old-timers wish we’d continue the quarterback club format,” Konzem said, “but we’ve found the picnic approach is more effective. The quarterback club is kind of a thing of the past.”
No doubt, too, as the pressure to produce a winner has increased, the quarterback club has become more an aggravation than a necessity. Where once the head coach was expected to spend as much time making appearances as actually coaching, today he has to be more focused on the bottom line than on the public periphery.
Still, it must be hard for the good old boys to believe the smoke-filled room has become the open-air picnic.
