I witnessed the genius of Steve Sabol when he and I attended Colorado College at the same time. He quickly became a legend—not on the football field, but in the art of self-promotion. Steve's creativity could turn a mundane Tuesday into entertaining front-page news.
Picture this: a skinny 170-pound kid strolls into practice, but instead of blending in, he commands attention like a seasoned star. Sabol wasn't just playing football; he was crafting a persona that would rival any Hollywood creation.
Forget Villanova, PA—Sabol hailed from the fictional Coaltown Township, a place that oozed football heritage. "Western Pennsylvania is where the real studs come from," he'd declare, despite never having set foot in a coal mine. But why stop there? Soon, he transformed into "Sudden Death Sabol" from Possum Trot, Mississippi—a character so vibrant it leapt off the page.
Sabol's genius lay in understanding that promotion wasn't just about bragging—it was about storytelling. He didn't just talk; he created a narrative that people couldn't resist. Game programs featured ads he'd paid for himself: "Coach Jerry Carle wishes Sudden Death Sabol a successful season." Even the no-nonsense Coach Carle couldn't help but smile at Sabol's audacity.
But Sabol knew that true promotion goes beyond words. He created a brand before personal branding was a thing. T-shirts, lapel buttons, and pencils proclaimed him "The Prince of Pigskin Pageantry” or “The Little Tot from Possum Trot.” Postcards featuring Sabol in full football regalia declared him "The most mysterious, awesome living being of all times." It was outrageous, it was over-the-top, and it was working.
Sabol's promotional prowess wasn't just for show—it had real impact. During a game against Concordia, he played mind games that would make Sun Tzu proud. A well-timed press release and some strategic on-field banter led to Concordia's star player being ejected. The result? A 13-0 victory and another chapter in the Sabol legend.
Off the field, Sabol's creativity continued to shine. His column, "Here's a Lot from Possum Trot," kept fans entertained, while his unofficial role as team cheerleader boosted morale. His self-promotion skills even landed him the position of team captain—proof that a good story can indeed open doors.
What Sabol understood, perhaps better than anyone, was that self-promotion isn't just about inflating your own ego—it's about creating excitement and bringing color to the world around you. His antics made the college football experience more vibrant for everyone involved. Fans had stories to tell, teammates had a leader to rally behind, and even opponents found themselves caught up in the Sabol narrative.
Sabol's promotional genius wasn't just about making headlines—it was psychological warfare at its finest. "Football is such a great game," Sabol once mused, "But football players are so dull."
He recalled watching a pregame film showing Mike Ditka demolishing an opponent. "Now, this is a great player. He's brutal," Sabol said. But when asked about the play, Ditka merely pawed the ground, dropped his head, and mumbled, "Ah, I was lucky."
Sabol saw this as a missed opportunity. "Surely after a guy makes a great play like Ditka did, he can come up with something more colorful than that," he argued. "Maybe they'll let me write stuff for the players and get them to say it on the shows. You know what I'd have Ditka say? 'Look at him. He's still breathing,' or something real colorful like that."
This knack for dramatic flair wasn't just talk—it was a strategy. At Colorado College, psychological warfare was an art form. Take, for instance, the plaque Sabol had made for the visiting team's dressing room:
WASHBURN STADIUM
Alt. 7,989
"This field is named in honor of Morris Washburn,
who perished when his lungs exploded from a lack of oxygen
during a soccer match with Denver University, 1901."
Sabol understood that promotion wasn't just about building yourself up—it was about getting into your opponent's head. Whether it was crafting colorful quotes or subtle intimidation tactics, he knew that the game began long before the kickoff.
This psychological edge, combined with his flair for self-promotion, made Sabol more than just a player—he was a master of the mental game, turning every aspect of football into a canvas for his creative genius.
This knack for promotion wasn't just a college phase—it was the foundation for an illustrious career. As the son of NFL Films founder Ed Sabol, Steve had grown up watching the power of storytelling in sports. He took those lessons, combined them with his innate promotional talents, and eventually transformed NFL Films into a cornerstone of football culture.
Self-promotion, when done with creativity and flair, is more than just marketing—it's an art form. In a world that often values modesty, Sabol reminds us that there's immense value—and fun—in boldly telling your own story. After all, if you don't promote yourself, who will?
Comments