Dave Lapham in the Bengals Ring of Honor?
As Lap himself would say to his faithful listeners in the Bengals radio booth he has inhabited for 40 years, "That dog will hunt."
The Lapham Lexicon, uniquely his own and a gift to Bengaldom in perpetuity, is a major reason he got the call to the ring. Lapham played all five offensive line spots during ten "slobber-knocker" seasons, "in the trenches," where he started for the Bengals' first Super Bowl team that regularly doled out "a can of whip-ass."
But it is his stint as the club's radio analyst beloved for his candor and zeal that allowed him to get his "muckers," on the Ring of Honor berth. If it sounds like Lapham could coach, it's because no one less than Paul Brown asked him to think about it because the Bengals boss thought he'd make a good one.
"I very much appreciate their support," Lapham says of the vote of season ticket holders. "It's been like a dream come true. It's been magical.
"I can't believe how fortunate I feel. I don't know why the good Lord put his hand down on my shoulder and says, 'You're going to get what you're hoping for, son.'"
Lapham has alerted listeners to key stats since that first season in the booth of 1986 with a nod to his hometown of Wakefield, Mass., and Mrs. Riley's third-grade math class. Well, you don't need Mrs. Riley's lessons to know that her most famous pupil is heading into his 50th year with the Bengals. As one of a dozen in the ROH, he's either been a teammate of or called the games of the other 11.
The air is so rarified that Bengals president Mike Brown turns to a Cincinnati Reds legend and baseball icon for context.
"It's rare to get somebody that has that continuity with a team. He has been our Joe Nuxhall if you will," Brown says. "I go home after the games, and as I drive home, I listen to him on the radio as he works to interview our players in the locker room and I like the way he does it."
Now that Lapham is 73 and old enough to have been Ben Schwartzwalder's last captain at Syracuse, praised by a Hall of Fame head coach in a Paul Brown practice, roomed with NFL passing champion Ken Anderson, blocked "duo," with Hall of Fame tackle Anthony Munoz, and tangled with the great Mike Reid before he won a Grammy, most of the faithful knows him as the conscience of the Bengals behind the mike.
But here's how Lap sees David Allan Lapham The Player from 1974-83:
"The versatility is what I take a lot of pride in because it wasn't easy. There are different techniques, different fundamentals, different things to work on and to learn with respect to playing every position in the offensive line. To have traits that you could kind of morph into each one of those positions, I think, has some uniqueness.
"It's kind of rare to be able to do that and playing all five positions in the same game in two different games I think is something that I'm proud of. Not a lot of guys can say they did that. That's a challenge that I was excited about trying to meet and live up to and I felt like I performed at a decent level."
Mike Brown loves hearing Lapham talk about how demanding his father was as head coach.
"PB," Lapham says, "could cut you in three words."
Both Browns coveted Lapham's smarts. One day at his rookie training camp. Lapham walked off the field as Paul Brown praised his adjustment to the playbook, telling Lapham that his good friend Schwartzwalder had assured him he was getting a bright player.
"Keep it up. Keep it up. That's what separates a lot of people," Paul Brown told Lapham. "A lot of guys can play at a good level, but the ones that take it to another level are the ones that have the mental capacity to take it there. So you're showing signs that you've got that. Keep it up."
"Holy bleep," Lapham thought as they parted. "Paul Brown told me that?"
Brains is what led to Lapham's most famous moment on the field. Even before Cincinnati's Riverfront Stadium became encased in a minus-57-degree wind chill for the 1981 AFC title, he had been thinking about going sleeveless against Chargers pass rusher Gary Johnson, a notorious grabber with "muckers," so feared they called him "Big Hands." And then Max Montoya, the Bengals' greatest guard and ROH candidate, began to think how the massive Louie Kelcher was prone to do the same thing. That's how the Bengals offensive line ended up going bare-armed in the second coldest game ever played.
The Bengals won by 20 and the jar of Vaseline Lapham smeared on his arms didn't hurt.
"Big Hands had a great move where he'd swat and grab. Swipe at the back of your arm," Lapham says. "The triceps. And then grab and try to pull you right out of your shoes.
"Early in the game, he swatted and tried to grab and slid off with Vaseline. I said, 'It's working, baby.' I had my hands right in the middle of his chest, and I'm kind of like chuckling a little bit, and he's pissed. It was kind of funny."
It was that attention to detail that spurred Paul Brown to approach Lapham about coaching after he retired. With two young children, Lapham politely declined because of the time commitment. But not long after, Mike and Paul asked him back down to the office to talk about the radio gig.
"I said, yeah, that sounds like a plan," Lapham says. "That's a way to stay associated and affiliated with the game, stay up to speed to all the adaptations and changes. It's not like you're away from it for a period of years and come back and try to catch up. You're just kind of evolving right along with it. That was an easy, smooth transition."
There's no sign that his bubbling enthusiasm is ebbing. To go along with his in-season duties, he's also doing a podcast ("Inside the Trenches with Dave Lapham") that runs multiple times a week with various guests. This chess in helmets has always ignited something in his mind and belly.
"I love all aspects of it. The biggest thing that separates football from other sports, to me, is the chess match that goes on," Lapham says. "The preparation, the game planning, the adjustments to game plans. There's a lot that goes on.
"To me, that chess match part of it is what separates it from everything else. I like that part of it. That stimulates your mind as much as anything."
When the latter part of a game unfolds so dramatically different than the opening salvos, Lapham has been known to observe that it is, "A tale of two halves." He calls it "A Charles Dickens Special."
Which is kind of what we now have here in the Bengals Ring of Honor. The first half belongs to the most versatile offensive lineman the Bengals have ever had. The second half is reserved for the voice of the fan, the ultimate banquet-circuit raconteur of the franchise's most vivid memories.
Call it a Dave Lapham Special.
"He has an enthusiasm, and I'm glad to hear it," says Mike Brown, the Bengals' No. 1 Fan speaking for all the rest. "It picks me up."
