The night died down, finally, the speaker platform dragged the trial closer to midnight. Most of that night, May 25, 1970, was a sharp, clever one-line retort procession, 600 people gathered in a ballroom in the old Americana Hotel on 7th Avenue and 53rd Street, decorated with black ties, sipping champagne.

Frank Gifford, the master of ceremonies, proceeded smoothly and without difficulty as he announced various award winners at the annual Pro Football Writers Awards Dinner. Dick Cavett was polite and charming, Pete Rozelle was charming. Joe Kapp and Hank Stram, whose Vikings and Chiefs had knocked their heads 4½ months earlier in Super Bowl IV, exchanged zinger.

By the time the final award was given, the crowd was tired, and some people wanted to immediately escape to the exit. Out of respect, they persevered, because the guest of honor was someone they really liked: Gale Sayers, running back from the Chicago Bears. On November 10, 1968, Sayers had elaborately blown his right knee at Wrigley Field while the Bears played 49ers.

Most believe Sayers will never play again. But in 1969, against all reasonable odds, the Kansas Comet did not only return to the Bears, he also played all 14 games and somehow led the league in a hurry with 1,032 yards for a terrible team that played 1-13. He is the unanimous choice of writers to win the Most Brave Player trophy George S. Halas.

Typically, the award is presented at the end of August, in Chicago, at the Halas Dinner, but Sayers asked for his presentation to be moved up. Few ask why; many thought he wanted to be able to focus on the training camp.

They will soon find out why.

Sayers was called to the podium and there was a round of applause. Many men in the room had interviewed Sayers before; they know he’s a man who doesn’t talk much. Most began to reach their topcoats when Sayers thanked his team mates, and Halas, and the doctors.

“It’s something special to do work that many people say can’t be done,” Sayers said quietly, barely audible. “Maybe that’s the way to express courage – at least in my case.”

Applause is more polite. Typical Sayers: Quick, Humble, Bland, Unmem … “But I want to tell you about my friend, Brian Piccolo.”

This is unexpected. Piccolo? He was a mediocre running back who partnered in Sayers’ field as most were blocked back. He filled in skillfully when Sayers was injured in ’68, but he was not the best known name in the room.

Sayers continued.

“In the middle of last season, Brian was defeated by the deadliest and most shocking enemy we have ever faced – cancer.”

Now he gets the full attention of the room.

“Compare his courage with the type I should have. There is never any doubt that I will return, a knee injury or not. But think of Brian and his fortitude in the months since November, in and out of the hospital, hoping to play football again, but not too sure whenever the score is or maybe. He has a giant heart. He has a mental attitude that makes me proud to have a friend who spells out the word ‘courage’ 24 hours a day, every day of his life. “

He stopped Six hundred robed men sat silent, glass-eyed, numb. Then, somehow, Gale Sayers gathered strength to finish his speech with this: “You flatter me by giving me this award, but I am telling you here and now that I received it for Brian Piccolo. Brian Piccolo is a brave man who must receive the George S. Halas Award. This is mine tonight, tomorrow Brian Piccolo.

“I love Brian Piccolo, and I want you all to love him too. And tonight, when you kneel, please ask God to love him.”

Fifty years ago on Monday, 600 people waited, then jumped to their feet, filled the room and hotel (now Sheraton Times Square) with a roar that could still be felt in their ears years later. Brian Piccolo died 22 days later at the age of 26, a few blocks away, in what is now the Sloan Kettering Cancer Center Memorial.

On November 30, 1971, “Brian’s Song,” starring James Caan and Billy Dee Williams, premiered on ABC. It was the film made for the most watched TV in history, still one of the greatest sports films ever made, and it was impossible to watch, even now, without feeling the same feelings felt by 600 men in tuxedo suits at the time. born at the Americana Hotel on May 25, 1970, a man who asks you to love his friend like him.