Cincinnati Bengals great Ken Riley, 72, remembered for great play, gentle soul

The almost-great Cincinnati Bengals teams of the 1980s were not without individual examples of greatness. You could suggest Ken Riley was the second-greatest of the great – behind only the unmatched human monument Anthony Munoz – and you wouldn’t get many arguments.

Riley died Sunday of a heart attack at age 72. There might be no football player who knew him that didn’t respect him. Certainly no Bengals player.

Fans will remember the guy who played quarterback in college, then learned to play cornerback as a rookie and rarely missed a game during 15 years in Cincinnati. Fifteen seasons, 207 games (1969-83), 201 starts. Dependable as a blocking sled.

Fans will say there was no one better at corner here, ever. The older generations will make that statement with utter certainty, nodding to each other and saying, "You should have seen him." They will argue the injustice of Riley being left out of the Pro Football Hall of Fame with the same passion they use for Kenny Anderson’s omission.  

Sixty-five interceptions, fifth all-time. The four players ahead of him are enshrined. Several defensive backs behind him are, too. Folks will say and players will agree that Riley’s personality hurt him. The Rattler was a gentle soul, whose greatest gift might have been his understated generosity.

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"One of a handful of people I’ve ever met that was a pure giver," Cris Collinsworth said Sunday.

Collinsworth was a rookie wideout in 1981. Riley was nearing the end of his career and would retire after the 1983 season. It was a classic pairing of cocky, young kid and knowing old veteran. Collinsworth still marvels at the old guy’s grace.

"The guy he reminds me most of is Tony Dungy," Collinsworth said. "The most giving person in the world. You never have to worry about what’s in it for Tony. Kenny Riley is the same guy."

They went after each other in training camp in 1981. Maybe in some, small way, Collinsworth represented a litmus test of sorts for Riley, who already had tangled for years with his big-time teammate Isaac Curtis. Collingsworth was faster than Riley, and known in college for his route-running prowess. Riley, then 34, might have wondered, "Have I still got it? This kid might let me know."

A lesser man might have accepted the challenge with no mercy. The NFL is a Darwinian place. Every man and his money for himself. Why should I help this Collinsworth kid look better against me? That’s where the Rattler’s character showed best.

"I ran hundreds of routes against him my rookie year," said Collinsworth. "Fifty or 60 percent of them, he told me what tipped him off, what I could do differently, what had worked against him in the past. It was always competitive when we went against each other. The minute the play was over, he was coaching you. He always wanted what was best for you."

Reggie Williams recalled Riley giving him his first shot of NFL self-belief. Williams was a rookie linebacker in 1976. He made his first pro start at Houston in Week 7. One of his jobs at middle linebacker was to chip a speedy wide receiver named Ken Burrough. Williams did just that.

During the game, Burrough asked Riley, "What is wrong with that crazy rookie?" The Rattler relayed that to Williams in the huddle. "Keep doing what you’re doing," he said. The rookie from Dartmouth thought, if this guy thinks I’m doing OK, I might have a chance in this league. Williams retired 14 years later, among the best Bengals linebackers ever.

As for the Hall of Fame, Riley lacked the flamboyance of fellow corner Lemar Parrish, the championship rings of peers such as Mel Blount and the publicity machine of the Dallas Cowboys. Riley spoke about it occasionally.

"I always thought that if you go out and do your job, you will get rewarded," he said several years ago. "Unfortunately, if you do not go out and be flashy or do some things that bring attention to yourself, your stats do not mean anything."

"He got overshadowed by Lemar," Anderson said Sunday. "Kenny was just a steady guy, always made the play. If a receiver had to leave his feet to catch a pass, that guy was going to end up on his head."

I asked Collinsworth if he ever faced a better corner in a game than the guy he saw in practice. No, he said, then rattled off a Who’s Who of Best Ever to Play the Position:

"Mike Haynes, Lester Hayes, Mel Blount. Ronnie Lott. Hanford Dixon, Frank Minniefield," Collinsworth said. "There was nothing (Riley) had not seen. All the moves I had that were golden in college, that worked every time, worked not one time against Kenny Riley."

If that were the only nice story one could say about Riley, that would suffice. But that was only half his book. "It’s too bad everybody didn’t get a chance to play with Kenny Riley," Collinsworth said.