The Coast News Group
bobby beathard, a former Leucadia resident and the Chargers general manager from 1990 to 1999, passed away last week in his home near Nashville, Tenn. He was 86.
bobby beathard, a former Leucadia resident and the Chargers general manager from 1990 to 1999, passed away last week in his home near Nashville, Tenn. He was 86. Courtesy photo
ColumnsNewsSportsSports Talk

Bobby Beathard: True to the Chargers and North County

The car rides with Bobby Beathard were hilarious, informative and not always reliable.

But those fond memories are what I lean on after the recent death of the only general manager to point the San Diego Chargers to the Super Bowl.

At Sunday’s Super Bowl 57 in Arizona, Beathard will be among the NFL legends honored who have departed over the past year.

Considering he helped construct seven rosters that advanced to the Super Bowl over a nearly 40-year career, few deserved to be saluted more than Beathard, a member of the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

When Beathard, who passed away at age 86 on Jan. 30 at his home outside of Nashville, was working his magic with the Chargers in the early 1990s, I was a rookie beat reporter covering the team.

It was my first full-time assignment of tracking a pro squad, that 1992 season, which meant the veteran and NFL-savvy Beathard and I couldn’t have been more different.

Bobby Beathard, left, the former Chargers general manager and Leucadia resident, passed away last week at age 86. Here, he unveils his bust at the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 2018 with the help of one his most keen hires, coach Joe Gibbs, with whom he won two Super Bowls in Washington. Courtesy photo
Bobby Beathard, left, the former Chargers general manager and Leucadia resident, passed away last week at age 86. Here, he unveils his bust at the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 2018 with the help of one his most keen hires, coach Joe Gibbs, with whom he won two Super Bowls in Washington. Courtesy photo

He arrived in San Diego in 1990, where he promptly drafted Oceanside’s Junior Seau with his maiden selection. It started a 10-year run that saw the Chargers reach the highest of highs, Super Bowl 29, and the lowest of lows, starting 2000 with 11 consecutive losses before finishing 1-15 after his final draft.

Beathard, though, had already earned legendary status before returning to California, down the coast from where he grew up surfing and playing football in El Segundo.

He was part of the Miami Dolphins scouting staff that helped them go 17-0, perfection that has never been equaled. In Washington, D.C., he hired a little-known coach in Joe Gibbs, a former San Diego State assistant, and watched him lead the team to three Super Bowls, winning twice.

While our resumes were diverse, Beathard and I found common ground with our North County locales. He lived in Leucadia above Beacon’s and I resided in Cardiff above Swami’s.

What we also shared was having to be at the Chargers’ facility, first in Mission Valley and later in Murphy Canyon, at roughly the same time. Considering the morning traffic, Beathard asked if I wanted to be a seat cover for his passenger side.

I quickly said yes, shocked that he knew who I was and stunned that he would make such an offer.

It’s hard enough to get an NFL general manager to return a call — the salty A.J. Smith certainly didn’t do so often — and here’s Beathard, one of the most decorated NFL executives, inviting me to share a half-hour with him, uninterrupted, twice a day and five times a week.

Beathard arrived in San Diego in 1990 and quickly drafted Oceanside's Junior Seau as his first pick. Photo via Twitter
Beathard arrived in San Diego in 1990 and quickly drafted Oceanside’s Junior Seau as his first-ever pick. Photo via Twitter

It was the beginning of friendship that I cherished, even if Beathard was using me to access the I-5 car pool on-ramp. He got a kick out of zooming past the solo drivers, his hair still wet from his dawn surf session.

We would meet at the Java Hut on Highway 101, where he often opted for tea while I went espresso. We both got our jolt, and soon, of course, we were yapping about the Bolts over a car radio usually tuned to a sports-talk show.

Often I had my notebook filled with juicy details of the team and its players before we reached our destination. Beathard would jabber about this and that, giving me a head start on the other writers with a few nuggets that they might be hard-pressed to get.

The flip side was, on occasion, he would me leave me at the facility, his mind occupied with a personnel move instead of his passenger. He would call, circle back and we both enjoyed a good laugh.

I was far from Beathard’s favorite or, maybe, tied for first with everyone else. Beathard was extremely gracious, accessible and, for the most part, truthful. Those are traits seldom found in an NFL GM, although it was more common then than it is now.

The norm was Beathard doing something head-scratching on draft days. With his wife Christine’s homemade brownies within arm’s reach, Beathard would wheel-and-deal with no fear, always focused on the positive of what could happen, instead of the downside of a maneuver that could lay an egg.

Some NFL GMs are afraid to be bold, knowing if their calculation blows up, their job is on the line. Beathard didn’t let the naysayers get in his head, often seeing something in players that others didn’t, and he was never shy to act on his instincts.

Did Beathard bat 1.000? Absolutely not. One of the worst draft busts in NFL history, quarterback Ryan Leaf, was among Beathard’s picks.

But the Leaf debacle couldn’t overshadow a lifetime of excellence, in and out of the water. While Beathard carved up colleagues in trades, he was just as keen shredding waves or winning his age-group category five times at the annual World Bodysurfing Championships in Oceanside.

Beathard was the Chargers’, but he also pledged allegiance to North County. He was crestfallen when he moved years ago to be closer to his grandchildren, but he fought to keep his North County roots.

“His offer isn’t the first one, but I’m hoping Shaun White buys our home,” Beathard said of his house on Neptune Avenue. “Because he said I could keep my boards in the garage.”

That aspiration didn’t happen, just like another one Beathard often envisioned.

The Chargers never won a Super Bowl, but if they had, Beathard already had the venue for the victory celebration: Leucadia’s La Especial Norte on Highway 101.

“Have you ever tried their cabbage soup?” he asked.

I hadn’t, and so wish now I would have, digging in with Beathard while he’s telling yet another tale.

Rest easy, Bobby. Every time I go by Java Hut, I still look for your car, with the surfboard rack on top.

Contact Jay Paris at [email protected] and follow him @jparis_sports