The Shocking Moment That Ended Howard Cosell’s Career: A Single Sentence That Changed Everything

Howard Cosell had weathered countless storms throughout his career. He defended Muhammad Ali when the world turned against him. He faced death threats for standing up for civil rights. He battled network executives and angry fans for decades. Nothing seemed capable of bringing him down. Then, one September night, everything changed in an instant.

A single sentence spoken during a football game triggered what would become one of the biggest scandals in broadcasting history. What did he say that caused such an uproar? The answer will shock you, especially when you learn who came to his defense.

Born Howard William Cohen on March 25, 1918, in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, Cosell was the son of Jewish immigrants fleeing Eastern Europe. His father, Isidor, worked as an accountant, while his mother, Nelly, stayed at home. They instilled in him the belief that education was the key to overcoming hardship, a lesson that would shape Howard’s future.

The family moved to Brooklyn, New York, before Howard turned three. Brooklyn was a melting pot of cultures, and it was here that Howard developed his sharp tongue and unshakeable confidence. While other kids resorted to physical fights, Howard wielded words as his weapon. He read voraciously, quoted literature on the playground, and never backed down from a verbal confrontation. His ego began to take shape, a characteristic that would follow him throughout his life.

During his time at NYU in the late 1930s, Cosell made a significant decision: he changed his last name from Cohen to Cosell, claiming it was derived from his grandfather’s original Polish name. This change was not merely about family pride; it was also a strategic move to stand out in a field where a Jewish name might hinder one’s career. He wanted to be memorable, to leave an impression.

In high school, Cosell became the sports editor of the school paper, where he developed a reputation for writing sharp, bold opinions. He wasn’t afraid to criticize poor coaching or bad play, earning both admiration and disdain from his peers and teachers alike. By the age of 21, he had earned two degrees from NYU—one in English literature and another in law—a remarkable feat for someone so young.

However, the stability of a law career was not enough for Cosell. He craved influence, fame, and a voice that could reach millions. When World War II broke out, he joined the U.S. Army, serving as a major in the transportation corps. He excelled in this role, organizing the movement of troops and supplies across the Atlantic, proving he could handle pressure and responsibility.

After the war, Cosell opened a law practice in Manhattan, quickly building a client list that included baseball legend Willie Mays. Yet, he felt trapped in the legal world. He often paced his office, pretending to deliver speeches to juries or narrating fake sports games. His friends found this behavior odd, but for Cosell, it was a necessary outlet for his true passion.

In 1953, he received his big break when Hal Neil from ABC radio invited him to host a small show on WABC in New York. Although he wasn’t paid for nearly three years, he saw it as a stepping stone into the world of sports broadcasting. The show featured Little League kids interviewing Major League Baseball players, but it was during this time that Cosell learned the power of unscripted conversation.

In 1956, he transitioned to full-time sports reporting for ABC radio, where he quickly gained notoriety for his confrontational style. Unlike most broadcasters of the time, who played it safe with easy questions, Cosell wasn’t afraid to ask tough ones. He pushed athletes to reveal their true feelings, earning both respect and disdain in equal measure.

His relationship with Muhammad Ali further cemented his place in broadcasting history. In 1964, when Ali announced his name change from Cassius Clay, many in the media refused to acknowledge it. But Cosell stood firm, calling him Muhammad Ali on national television despite the backlash. This moment marked the beginning of a deep friendship between the two men, as they both understood what it meant to be outsiders.

As the Vietnam War raged on, Ali refused to fight, citing his religious beliefs. While most of the media vilified him, Cosell defended him, calling the government’s actions inhumane. This unwavering support only strengthened their bond, and together they tackled issues of race, identity, and social justice.

In 1970, ABC made a bold move by hiring Cosell to join the new Monday Night Football broadcast team, a decision that would change American television forever. Ratings soared as Cosell’s fiery personality and unique style captivated audiences. He became known for his iconic phrase, “He could go all the way,” turning simple moments into unforgettable events.

However, not everyone loved Cosell. He had a notorious feud with sports columnist Dick Young, who publicly disparaged him. Their rivalry symbolized the clash between traditional journalism and the emerging world of television sports commentary.

Despite his success, Cosell struggled with insecurities and often turned to alcohol to cope with the pressures of fame. On November 23, 1970, during a live broadcast, he became visibly intoxicated, slurring his words and vomiting on air. This incident marked the beginning of a troubling pattern that would haunt him throughout his career.

Then came the fateful night of September 5, 1983, when Cosell made a comment that would end his career. During a Monday Night Football game, as Washington wide receiver Alvin Garrett maneuvered through defenders, Cosell exclaimed, “That little monkey gets loose, doesn’t he?” The comment ignited a firestorm of controversy. Viewers were stunned, and complaints flooded into ABC.

The backlash was swift and severe. Reverend Joseph Lowry, president of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, publicly condemned Cosell’s remark, calling for a public apology. The media framed the story as a racial insult, overshadowing Cosell’s long history of supporting civil rights. Despite attempts to clarify his intentions, the damage was done.

Surprisingly, some of Cosell’s strongest defenders were black athletes and civil rights leaders, including Jesse Jackson and Muhammad Ali, who argued that Cosell had never intended to offend. Alvin Garrett himself stated that he didn’t find the comment offensive. However, public opinion had already turned against him, and the media narrative overshadowed any support he received.

By the end of the 1983 season, Cosell stepped away from broadcasting, calling the experience emotionally draining. He had once been a fearless voice in sports, unafraid to challenge athletes and coaches, but now a single sentence had brought it all crashing down. Though he continued to work in radio until 1992, his presence on television was never the same.

In his later years, Cosell faced personal struggles, including a cancer diagnosis and the death of his wife, Emmy, who had been his emotional anchor. He attempted to stay active in radio, but it was clear he was fading. He passed away on April 23, 1995, at the age of 77, leaving behind a mixed legacy.

Some hailed him as a pioneer who elevated sports broadcasting, while others remembered him for his controversies and downfall. His contributions to the industry were undeniable, and even after his death, he received numerous posthumous honors, including induction into the Television Hall of Fame and the International Jewish Sports Hall of Fame.

Howard Cosell’s story serves as a cautionary tale about the power of words and the consequences of a single moment. Despite the scandal that marred his legacy, his impact on sports broadcasting remains significant, reminding us that even the most influential figures can fall from grace in an instant.