The Magic of Joe Cool

When I was a kid, the term “Joe Cool” referred to one of three things.

Initially, it was Joe Namath. I wasn’t aware of that at the time, because Namath’s last relevant season came when I was four years old. After that he was bad, or the Jets were bad, or both. Plus, folks in Boston didn’t pay attention to the Jets very much. Hell, we barely paid attention to the Patriots back then. Consequently, the days of Namath being the Joe Cool who guaranteed a Super Bowl win and dated Raquel Welch were over by the time my consciousness came online.

Just as Namath was losing relevance, Charles Schultz decided that one of Snoopy’s alter egos would be a college kid named Joe Cool. This was far more important to me than Namath, not only because I was much more aware of Snoopy than Namath, but because my brother’s name is Joe (and it’s his birthday…Happy Birthday Big Brother!) and he acquired a fair amount of Joe Cool merchandise. We shared a room, and an image of Snoopy in his Joe Cool persona was a daily sight for me. A t-shirt, a poster, a sticker, an action figure, you name the object and if they made a version with Snoopy in his sunglasses and signature red sweater with “Joe Cool” on the chest, my brother probably had it.

Then, in my teenage years, Joe Cool most often referred to Joe Montana. This one resonated with me the most because I loved watching those 49ers teams. My Patriots weren’t very good and I could rarely see them on television after we moved to Kansas City. The Chiefs were available, but they were in their mediocre Marv Levy-John Mackovic seasons and weren’t worth watching. But the Niners were fun, and good, and Montana lived up to his nickname by being unflappable on top of excellent. My brother and I had graduated from Snoopy decor to posters of athletes, and I’m pretty sure Montana was among them.