Lynn Dickey gets it going

Editor's note: My intention was to publish an AMA this week, but circumstances out of my control have limited my writing time on that, so we're going to wait a week. Instead, here's another chapter from Packers History in 100 Plays. I think Lynn Dickey is a historically under-appreciated player, and it was fun to delve into what is, I think, unquestionably his greatest performance with the Packers.

The word “journeyman” has developed a more pejorative connotation in sports than is probably warranted.

A journeyman is never anything special. It’s the player good enough to get an invite, but not good enough to stick around long term. It’s the player you’re always a week or two from replacing. It’s the player who’s a stopgap, not a star.

That may be functionally true, but it takes a lot to be an actual journeyman. In the trades, a journeyman is a worker who has developed a thorough understanding of his business. You can’t make a living as a journeyman without knowing how to get the job done.

That’s the missing piece in the common usage. Even a journeyman NFL pro is a better football player than almost everyone who has ever lived. He knows his trade, and can ply it for whoever is willing to give him a roster spot and a game check.

Such is the case of Lynn Dickey, a consummate journeyman who demonstrated his knowledge of the business of passing in a masterful 1983 season.

Prior to 1983, there had been just five 4,000-yard passing seasons in NFL history. Joe Namath was the first, putting up what had to be a mind-boggling 4,007 passing yards in 1967. His 28 interceptions against 26 touchdown passes shows how sophisticated the aerial assault was in that era; Namath’s throws were about as likely to end up in the arms of a defender as one of his teammates.

After Namath, Dan Fouts led a one-man 4,000-yard revolution a little more than a decade later. Flinging the ball all over the field for the San Diego Chargers, Fouts broke the 4,000-yard barrier in 1979, 1980, and 1981, and would have been all alone atop Olympus had Cleveland’s Brian Sipe not put up 4,132 yards in 1980.

And then came Dickey. Well, eventually.

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