Why isn’t he one of the NFL’s best pass defenders at the Hall of Fame?

Hall of Fame debates are a staple of sports arguments – if a player has accumulated credentials to be honored among the best in his sport is a staple for discussions over a beer. We highlight a collection of players who we believe deserve the distinction but have not yet been inducted, or are not quite up to snuff, but have had a big impact on their franchise or their sport.

If there has ever been one player whose career achievements prove that Hall of Fame selections are often nothing more than stupid popularity contests, it’s Ken Riley.

Riley has spent 15 seasons in the NFL, all as a defensive back, all with the Cincinnati Bengals. It wasn’t the Bungles era either: Riley’s tenure included five playoff appearances and a trip to Super Bowl XVI. He retired in 1983 with 65 career interceptions – the fourth record in the history of the league at the time. Thirty-seven years have passed since then, and Riley is now tied for fifth all-time in the picks. Yet he has never been a finalist in the Professional Football Hall of Fame, let alone an inductee. All this for tacit reasons that are incorporated into the selection process, which has much less to do with merit than one would think.

“I think the reason he didn’t get more consideration for PFHOF was because he was not a self-promoter,” professional football historian Ken Crippen told me by email. . “You have to have your name constantly before the voters if you want consideration.”

Visibility and lobbying are a more important part of the Pro Football Hall procedures than one would think. Modern-day applicants are eligible up to 25 years after retirement, and beyond, there is a backlog of senior applicants, only one or two of whom can be considered finalists in any given year. This can make it difficult for a player like Riley to be recognized, despite his obvious references.

“He was really smart and very quick,” said Dan Fouts, Hall of Fame quarterback. “Any ball that was obviously not on target, or that was a little late, its speed was still manifested at that time. I think a lot of Ken Riley.”

Charlie Joiner, an extraordinary Hall of Fame player who teamed up with Riley on the Bengals and then played against him as a member of the San Diego Chargers, said that Riley rarely drops passes on which he could get their hands on. He also said that Riley had particularly excelled in redirecting his backpedal to break the ball.

“That’s why he had so many interceptions,” Joiner told me.

Football has only recently entered a quantitative era where individual performance can be examined more closely at each position. During Riley’s time, it was not possible to assess how he played against a particular pass-catcher or quarterback, or to determine how often the quarterbacks threw in his direction (or far of him), or how much he has played in the man against the area covers, or how many times he has lined up in the slot or outside. Interceptions, however, are a traditional statistic, and Hall has long appreciated them as barometers for induction – but only to a point.

Riley’s 65 picks rank second among all cornerbacks, behind only 68 from Dick “Night Train” Lane. And among the top 10 of all time at any position with 62 or more interceptions, only Riley, Charles Woodson, Darren Sharper and Dave Brown are not in the room. Woodson will not be eligible until next year, and Sharper’s name will likely never be called because he is currently in prison after pleading guilty four years ago to multiple rape charges. That leaves Riley and Brown, and Riley ended her career with three more interceptions than Brown.

“He compares favorably to everyone I have coached,” said longtime NFL defensive coach Dick LeBeau. “Statistics don’t lie and hers are all on the table.”

LeBeau can understand Riley’s struggle to get his due. He coached the Bengals’ defensemen from 1980 to 1983 in Riley’s last four seasons. But he is best known for being the Pittsburgh Steelers’ defensive coordinator from 1995 to 1996 and again from 2004 to 2014. During these two stints, Pittsburgh had four Super Bowls and won two titles. This is relevant because LeBeau was also a cornerback for the Detroit Lions who finally entered the room as a player in 2010 – almost 40 years after his retirement with 62 career choices, which is tied for third row of corners and 10th among all defensive backs.

“I think the fact that the Steeler defense was so good has kept my name up to date, no doubt,” said LeBeau.

Riley had no such direct route to recognition. After his retirement, he spent two years as an assistant coach with the Green Bay Packers before taking charge of Florida A&M, his alma mater. He was then sports director of FAMU before ending his professional career as the dean of the students of a high school in Florida. He stayed off the stage, and he liked it.

“This is my personality,” Riley told Samuel G. Freedman of the New York Times in 2013. “This is how I was raised – parents, grandparents, everyone. Let your work speak for itself. himself and be humble. “

Riley grew up in Bartow, Florida, where he attended a separate high school. He was quarterback and Rhodes Rhodes candidate for Florida A&M. He never played defense until he reached the NFL, until the Bengals chose him in the sixth round of the 1969 draft. Cincinnati selected quarterback Greg Cook fifth overall this year there, and team head coach and founder Paul Brown had no plans to allow Riley to compete with Cook.

Back then, and for years afterwards, it was common for NFL teams to insist that black quarterbacks change positions, due to a long-standing bias that they weren’t able to play the post. Years later, Brown’s son Mike, who remains the owner of the Bengals and the president of the team, told the Cincinnati Enquirer that Riley “could not play the quarterback position in the NFL. He thinks probably today he could, but he really had no chance there and my dad immediately moved him around. “

The Enquirer reported that Riley laughed when told what Mike Brown had said. “I think I could have played if I had been given an opportunity, but the guy we recruited that year was great – and it was Greg Cook,” Riley told the newspaper. “He was just great.” Cook was indeed a hotshot prospect, but his career was ultimately bypassed by injuries.

Despite his production, Riley struggled to gain recognition even during his playing days. He led the league three times in interception, but he never made the Pro Bowl and only once was chosen as All -Pro – in 1983, his last season, when he intercepted eight passes at the age of 36. Meanwhile, another Bengals cornerback, Lemar Parrish, who was caught in the seventh round in 1970 and ended his career with 47 caps, went to eight Pro Bowls. LeBeau attributed this to Parrish after being one of the most prominent punt returners in the league.

“Punt returns are splash pointers, and maybe Kenny is suffering a bit because of that,” said LeBeau.

The Pro Bowl and All-Pro selections help reinforce a player’s credentials in the room, although these are very subjective honors that don’t often go to deserving candidates. As a result, the Pro Football Reference Hall of Fame control tool does not consider Riley Hall’s qualifications very well. Yet despite all his humility, Riley acknowledged this incongruity, as he explained to Crippen for a story in the National Football Post:

The system is fucked up. Often times there were guys who made the Pro Bowl based on what they did the year before. Lemar Parrish and I are good friends. In 1976, I had nine interceptions and chaired the conference. I had three in the last game against the Jets. I will never forget him. Charlie Winters was my secondary coach. They took me out in the third quarter. He said he didn’t want me to hurt myself because, “there is no way this time they will let you pass”. Lemar (Parrish) was injured for half the season that year. When they chose the Pro Bowl, they selected it, which I never understood and neither did he. I can’t blame him, but the system is messed up.

Freedman wrote that Hall voters officially told him that playing Cincinnati had hurt Riley because it was a small media market. A Hall voter confirmed this to me on condition of anonymity. Even the pleading of former teammates like Sunday night football analyst Cris Collinsworth or of opponents like Steelers broad player John Stallworth – a member of Hall himself – did not work to reinforce Riley’s case . Offensive tackle Anthony Munoz remains the only player in the room to have played most of his career in Cincinnati.

Riley’s day may come someday, but he won’t live to see it. He died on June 7, aged 72.

Dom Cosentino is a senior feature editor for theScore.