Roger Wehrli: Model Career, Model Citizen
By Bernie Miklasz
ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH
08/02/2007
A few weeks ago, Gayle Wehrli sat down to watch an old video of the St. Louis football Cardinals' infamous 38-0 win over the Dallas Cowboys in a Monday Night Football game played in 1970.
Just who was that berserk No. 22, anyway? There he was flying around, delivering hits, throwing his shoulders into Cowboys receivers, swatting footballs away, and making two interceptions in a relentless search for prey.
That marauder was her husband, Cardinals cornerback Roger Wehrli, and he was so much different than the mild-mannered, warm-hearted gentleman whom she had married a week after his final game at Mizzou, in 1968.
"I was astounded," she said. "He was so aggressive. The camera zoomed in for a close-up of his face, and he looked like a cat, ready to pounce. If he did something great he wouldn't smile. I asked him why. He said, 'I was thinking of the next play. Have to get ready.' Nothing would break his focus."
There are so many words that could describe Wehrli as we try to put his career, and life, in perspective before his induction Saturday night into the Pro Football Hall of Fame in Canton, Ohio.
This one fits best: consistent.
It applies to Wehrli's snap-to-snap commitment to perfection in football. It applies to the way he treats others. It applies to his even-keel personality. It applies to his professional life — a 14-year career with one franchise. It applies to his post-NFL days; Wehrli has worked for the same local company, FormStore, since retiring in 1982. It applies to his idyllic personal life; Wehrli has been married to Gayle for nearly 39 years. He has never lived out of the state. They've been in the same St. Charles home for nearly 20 years. They've been active in one church for the past 14 years.
Roger and Gayle raised two children, Shannon and Michael. Shannon teaches second grade, and Michael is a police officer in St. Charles. There are three grandchildren. And a few miles separate all of them.
You just don't find that level of consistency in our culture now. We change jobs, get divorced, switch homes, move, and spend more time on the Internet than having dinner together as families. Athletes hop from team to team.
We're so restless. But whatever the secret to a happy life is, Wehrli has figured it out.
Roger Wehrli, 59, simply represents a high standard of quiet but unwavering excellence that he has followed like a straight, firm line on life's highway — from his childhood in the small northwest Missouri farming community of King City to a Hall of Fame college career at Missouri, to an esteemed NFL career in St. Louis, to the steps of the Pro Football Hall of Fame.
"He's one of the finest people I've known," said retired Cardinals safety Larry Wilson, the Hall of Famer who will introduce Wehrli on Saturday. "Just a first-class person in every way."
That's the serious part, the most important thing. What about the lighter side? Is the steady Roger Wehrli funny? Are there stories?
"I have plenty of fun," he said. "But I was an only child, so I think I learned to be satisfied within myself. I just kind of flow into things."
Wehrli's low-key demeanor has an unmistakable charm. For example, when Roger proposed to Gayle — OK, he didn't really propose to her. He handed her his fraternity lavaliere, with the unspoken understanding that they were engaged, though he never really said it.
"I told Roger, 'I think I love you,' " Gayle said. "And he said, 'I think I love you, too.' That's pretty much all that was said. There was just this natural assumption that we'd get married."
What about Roger, the dad?
We turn to his daughter, Shannon Watkins. She spoke of him as a loving, selfless father. But she's always been amazed by his unflappable composure. (Roger Staubach could tell us a little about that, too).
When Shannon's son broke a crystal Pro Bowl trophy belonging to his grandfather, Roger picked the child up to make sure he was OK, then calmly swept up the shattered glass. His grandson felt bad enough without Roger trying to make the boy feel worse.
"My thoughts could be grouped under 'Mr. Cool — calm in all circumstances,'" she said. "Dad came home from a church-league basketball game and said I should probably go with him to the hospital. He thought he broke his hand. And he had broken it. But he stayed cool. Playing softball, he comes off the field and says he thinks he broke a bone in his foot. He finishes the game, then checks it out and yes, he has a broken bone. But he stays cool.
"Every Thanksgiving we play a Turkey Day football game. On a great play Dad dove for the ball and landed hard. He sat up and calmly said he thought he broke his collarbone. After a short stint in the emergency room, with sling in tow, he returned to the house to have pumpkin pie with the rest of us. Cool as always."
Friends and family have been curious about Wehrli's acceptance speech. What will he say? As Gayle points out, "You can't get a man of few words to say more than a few words."
After waiting so long — too long — to get the call from Canton, will the stoic Wehrli crack and cry? "It's the culmination of a wonderful career and a life I've enjoyed," Wehrli said. "Thinking about all of it, it's going to be difficult to hold it together."
One of Roger's favorite movies is "Hoosiers," the true story about the small-town, underdog Indiana high school that won the state basketball championship.
"He gets emotional in situations where he believes someone deserves to be treated well and they're finally rewarded in the end," Gayle said.
Just like the movie. And doesn't the film represent the basic tenets of Wehrli's own life? From a high school graduating class of 28, to the Pro Football Hall of Fame. Incredible.
"And he never changed," son Michael said. "He never once put on different faces for different people. He's still the same person who was raised in that small farming town. It's the American dream."
By Bernie Miklasz
ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH
08/02/2007
You must be registered for see images attach
A few weeks ago, Gayle Wehrli sat down to watch an old video of the St. Louis football Cardinals' infamous 38-0 win over the Dallas Cowboys in a Monday Night Football game played in 1970.
Just who was that berserk No. 22, anyway? There he was flying around, delivering hits, throwing his shoulders into Cowboys receivers, swatting footballs away, and making two interceptions in a relentless search for prey.
That marauder was her husband, Cardinals cornerback Roger Wehrli, and he was so much different than the mild-mannered, warm-hearted gentleman whom she had married a week after his final game at Mizzou, in 1968.
"I was astounded," she said. "He was so aggressive. The camera zoomed in for a close-up of his face, and he looked like a cat, ready to pounce. If he did something great he wouldn't smile. I asked him why. He said, 'I was thinking of the next play. Have to get ready.' Nothing would break his focus."
There are so many words that could describe Wehrli as we try to put his career, and life, in perspective before his induction Saturday night into the Pro Football Hall of Fame in Canton, Ohio.
This one fits best: consistent.
It applies to Wehrli's snap-to-snap commitment to perfection in football. It applies to the way he treats others. It applies to his even-keel personality. It applies to his professional life — a 14-year career with one franchise. It applies to his post-NFL days; Wehrli has worked for the same local company, FormStore, since retiring in 1982. It applies to his idyllic personal life; Wehrli has been married to Gayle for nearly 39 years. He has never lived out of the state. They've been in the same St. Charles home for nearly 20 years. They've been active in one church for the past 14 years.
Roger and Gayle raised two children, Shannon and Michael. Shannon teaches second grade, and Michael is a police officer in St. Charles. There are three grandchildren. And a few miles separate all of them.
You just don't find that level of consistency in our culture now. We change jobs, get divorced, switch homes, move, and spend more time on the Internet than having dinner together as families. Athletes hop from team to team.
We're so restless. But whatever the secret to a happy life is, Wehrli has figured it out.
Roger Wehrli, 59, simply represents a high standard of quiet but unwavering excellence that he has followed like a straight, firm line on life's highway — from his childhood in the small northwest Missouri farming community of King City to a Hall of Fame college career at Missouri, to an esteemed NFL career in St. Louis, to the steps of the Pro Football Hall of Fame.
"He's one of the finest people I've known," said retired Cardinals safety Larry Wilson, the Hall of Famer who will introduce Wehrli on Saturday. "Just a first-class person in every way."
That's the serious part, the most important thing. What about the lighter side? Is the steady Roger Wehrli funny? Are there stories?
"I have plenty of fun," he said. "But I was an only child, so I think I learned to be satisfied within myself. I just kind of flow into things."
Wehrli's low-key demeanor has an unmistakable charm. For example, when Roger proposed to Gayle — OK, he didn't really propose to her. He handed her his fraternity lavaliere, with the unspoken understanding that they were engaged, though he never really said it.
"I told Roger, 'I think I love you,' " Gayle said. "And he said, 'I think I love you, too.' That's pretty much all that was said. There was just this natural assumption that we'd get married."
What about Roger, the dad?
We turn to his daughter, Shannon Watkins. She spoke of him as a loving, selfless father. But she's always been amazed by his unflappable composure. (Roger Staubach could tell us a little about that, too).
When Shannon's son broke a crystal Pro Bowl trophy belonging to his grandfather, Roger picked the child up to make sure he was OK, then calmly swept up the shattered glass. His grandson felt bad enough without Roger trying to make the boy feel worse.
"My thoughts could be grouped under 'Mr. Cool — calm in all circumstances,'" she said. "Dad came home from a church-league basketball game and said I should probably go with him to the hospital. He thought he broke his hand. And he had broken it. But he stayed cool. Playing softball, he comes off the field and says he thinks he broke a bone in his foot. He finishes the game, then checks it out and yes, he has a broken bone. But he stays cool.
"Every Thanksgiving we play a Turkey Day football game. On a great play Dad dove for the ball and landed hard. He sat up and calmly said he thought he broke his collarbone. After a short stint in the emergency room, with sling in tow, he returned to the house to have pumpkin pie with the rest of us. Cool as always."
Friends and family have been curious about Wehrli's acceptance speech. What will he say? As Gayle points out, "You can't get a man of few words to say more than a few words."
After waiting so long — too long — to get the call from Canton, will the stoic Wehrli crack and cry? "It's the culmination of a wonderful career and a life I've enjoyed," Wehrli said. "Thinking about all of it, it's going to be difficult to hold it together."
One of Roger's favorite movies is "Hoosiers," the true story about the small-town, underdog Indiana high school that won the state basketball championship.
"He gets emotional in situations where he believes someone deserves to be treated well and they're finally rewarded in the end," Gayle said.
Just like the movie. And doesn't the film represent the basic tenets of Wehrli's own life? From a high school graduating class of 28, to the Pro Football Hall of Fame. Incredible.
"And he never changed," son Michael said. "He never once put on different faces for different people. He's still the same person who was raised in that small farming town. It's the American dream."
Here's to you, Roger!!! 
I watched every play of this game! I thought (Dandy Don Meridith) was going to "CRY" that night!
