Baltimore Colts legend Raymond Berry, a Pro Football Hall of Famer, dies

BALTIMORE - The day before the 1958 NFL championship, the Baltimore Colts' Raymond Berry stepped onto the field at Yankee Stadium and, for hours, explored every square foot of turf for slick spots and divots. His persistence paid off: Berry caught 12 passes - including three in a row during a storied rally - as Baltimore defeated the New York Giants, 23-17, in sudden-death overtime.

Pundits called it "The Greatest Game Ever Played," one that brought nationwide acclaim to Berry, quarterback Johnny Unitas and the rest of the Colts whose heroics put pro football on the map that day.

Raymond Emmett Berry died May 25, of complications from pneumonia, at home in Murfreesboro, Tenn. At 93, he was the oldest living member of the Pro Football Hall of Fame. His death leaves one surviving member of the 1958 Colts' title team: Hall of Fame running back Lenny Moore, 92, of Randallstown.

A 20th-round draft pick from Southern Methodist University, Berry played 13 years for the Colts, made the Pro Bowl six times and retired in 1967 with 631 receptions, then an NFL record. He entered the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 1973 and, 21 years later, was named to the NFL 75th Anniversary All-Time Team. Berry also spent six years as head coach of the New England Patriots, taking them to the Super Bowl in 1985, where they lost to the Chicago Bears.

"In NFL history, there are only a handful of players who we can say truly changed the sport. Raymond Berry is one of the few names on that list," the Indianapolis Colts wrote in a social media post. "As a player during a historic era of Colts football, Raymond redefined the standard for what a wide receiver could and should be. … Simply put, not only was Raymond Berry one [of] the greatest players in the history of the Colts, but he was one of the most influential and foundational players of the modern NFL."

"Raymond Berry is a football icon. As one of the greatest wide receivers in league history, he routinely thrilled fans with his clutch playmaking, precise approach and unmatched work ethic," the Ravens wrote in a social media post. "His impact on Baltimore sports and the NFL will endure forever."

Meticulous to a fault as a player, Berry carried a bathroom scale on road trips, cooked his own meals (salmon, mostly) and insisted on washing his practice uniform himself. Teammates poked fun at the quirky work ethic of the soft-spoken Texan but knew the Colts' success depended on it.

"He was the hardest-working guy of all time," Colts' fullback Alan Ameche once said. "Raymond [no one called him Ray] would stay after practice and work on impossible catches with Unitas. It'd be dark out there. Finally, even John would give up. He'd tell [Berry] he had a sore arm. And we'd go out to dinner, and Raymond would sit there squeezing Silly Putty to strengthen his hands."

Berry nitpicked his way to the top. On Mondays, the players' day off, he pored over grainy game films for up to 13 hours, using a 16-mm Bell & Howell projector that he'd written into his contract. In the summer of 1957, for a 10-mile hike with the Maryland National Guard, Berry packed the projector in his duffel bag so he could study football films at night.

"People thought I was nuts," he told The Baltimore Sun in 2011. "But one of the gifts I had was drive; it pushed me to explore every boundary."

His attention to detail was legendary. To the end, at his Tennessee home, he kept stacks of dog-eared notebooks filled with scrawls and diagrams of ways to outfox Colts' opponents. If Berry was the fussbudget of football, he had the mindset of a chess master. He was part Felix Unger, part Bobby Fischer - an amalgam that led the team to two successive world championships.

"Berry didn't play a game of football, he engineered it," sports columnist Jim Murray once wrote. "He checked the temperature, lighting, humidity, even the position of the sun in the sky. He studied the terrain as if he had to putt on it, not run on it, or build a bridge on it, not catch a pass on it."

Always seeking an edge, Berry was reportedly the first NFL receiver to use the uprights - which then stood on the goal line - to help screen defenders. Hopelessly myopic, he pioneered the use of contact lenses during games. And to play the Rams in the Los Angeles Coliseum, he designed a pair of shatterproof sunglasses to wear "so that when the sun sets right at the end of the field in the third quarter, I can look up and see the ball coming."

He wore a lift in one shoe and a canvas brace above his hips to help a chronic aching back. Berry often played hurt, nursing a dislocated finger for much of his rookie year (1955). Despite a midseason injury in 1960, he led the NFL with 74 receptions, dragging his bad leg on pass routes "like an automobile with one good spark plug," The Sun reported.

He treated practices like games, and games like Armageddon. In training camp, on blistering days when players were allowed to shun pads, Berry showed up in full gear. Routinely, he'd remain after workouts in Westminster and play catch with anyone, from Unitas to a wide-eyed 10-year-old passerby. In the offseason, he persuaded his wife, Sally, to throw him passes. Even when she was pregnant.

"You don't catch a football by instinct," Berry said. "You've got to get out and spend every bit of time you can practicing catching it."

Raised in Paris, Texas, he played center on his grade-school team because "I was the only guy who could snap the ball between my legs." He rode the bench until his senior year in high school, where his father was head coach, and attended nearby Schreiner Institute in 1950 before transferring to SMU. A 160-pound two-way end, he turned heads from the start.

"I remember the coach saying, ‘If you varsity guys would go after the ball like this little broomstick receiver, we wouldn't have any trouble,' " Berry said.

As a senior, he fumbled twice against Texas, which cost SMU the game "and left an indelible imprint on my mind," he said. "I resolved to never let it happen again."

With the Colts, in 13 seasons, Berry fumbled once - though he always maintained that the official blew the call.

As a rookie, he caught 13 passes in 12 games and was struggling to keep his job in 1956 when the Colts signed Unitas, a free agent, crew-cut quarterback. The two bonded on the spot.

"We had the same mindset, one born of desperation," Berry said. "I was worried about getting cut, and John had already been cut once [by the Pittsburgh Steelers]. We were both obsessed with football, with a work ethic that was off the board."

They honed their game in endless workouts, while imploring coach Weeb Ewbank, a conservative strategist, to stretch the field.

"Weeb had a mental block about ‘going long,' " Berry said. "I told him, ‘The defensive backs are sitting in our hip pocket. Let us go deep; we won't abuse the privilege.' "

The coach agreed. Three times, between 1957 and 1960, Berry led the NFL in reception yardage, a feat he liked to trumpet.

"A lot has been said about my [lack of] speed," he told The Sun. "You don't lead the league in yardage by being slow."

But it was the 1958 title game against New York that won him fame: a record 12 receptions for 178 yards and a touchdown. With time winding down and the Colts trailing 17-14, Unitas hit Berry with three consecutive passes of 25, 15 and 22 yards as Baltimore marched for the tying field goal that would send the game into sudden death.

"John and I were on automatic pilot in those two minutes," said Berry, who'd spent two weeks sketching plays and scheming ways to sting the Giants. In overtime, he caught two more passes before Ameche plowed over from 1 yard out for the winning touchdown.

While teammates celebrated in the locker room, Berry sought solitude.

"I went into a toilet stall and shut the door," he told The Sun in 2011. "I sat there for a few minutes, totally aware that what just happened was the work of God. I wasn't into religion yet, so that was a revelation - and I didn't know how to say thank you."

Soon after, he became a born-again Christian and a spokesman for the Fellowship of Christian Athletes.

In 1959, the Colts repeated as NFL champs and Berry led the league with 14 touchdown catches. Time and time again, he'd snare a sideline pass, body parallel with the turf, or with his toes dragging just inbounds.

"Berry didn't run pass routes, he performed ballet," wrote William Rhoden, of The New York Times.

His quiet demeanor and principled lifestyle earned him respect off the field. In 1964, while serving in the Maryland National Guard, Berry was tabbed to lead a human rights commission to help restore peace in riot-torn Cambridge, a post he held for six weeks.

He retired in 1967, having caught passes for 9,275 yards and 68 touchdowns. A year later, the Colts honored Berry before a game at Memorial Stadium. The crowd of 60,238 cheered as team owner Carroll Rosenbloom held Berry's jersey, No. 82, aloft. Berry stood by graciously, his young child, Mark Raymond, on his shoulder, fast asleep.

Berry's son, now a pastor, conducted his father's private funeral service.

"My dad was a great man - sincere, humble, hard-working and kind," he told The Sun. "Notoriety can breed arrogance, but that was the furthest thing from his mind. He made everyone around him feel like they were the big deal, not him; whoever you were, he had time for you. He genuinely cared about others, and he leaves a big hole."

Berry is survived by Sally Crook Berry, his wife of 65 years; a son, Mark Raymond Berry, of Albertville, Ala.; daughters Suzanne Wich, of Murfreesboro, and Ashley Bass, of Nashville, Tenn.; and nine grandchildren. In lieu of flowers, memorial gifts can be sent to: Christ Our Refuge Presbyterian Church, 925 W. Main St, Albertville, Ala., 35950.

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This story was originally published June 1, 2026 at 2:49 PM.