Nobody expected a thing from them. Seriously. By the time the 1979 Tampa Bay Buccaneers kicked off their fourth season in existence, they were basically the league's punchline. They’d started their life in the NFL with 26 straight losses. Twenty-six. That’s two years of never feeling the high of a win. People wore bags over their heads at games. The "Creamicicle" orange jerseys were mocked as the ugliest threads in professional sports.
Then, everything flipped.
If you weren't there, it’s hard to describe how weird it felt to see Tampa Bay—a team that was 0-14 just three years prior—suddenly suffocating the best offenses in the world. They didn't just get better; they became a defensive juggernaut that dragged the entire franchise from the basement to the NFC Championship game. It remains one of the most statistically improbable turnarounds in the history of the sport.
The Defense That Refused to Break
Lee Roy Selmon was a different breed. You look at his highlights now and he looks like he’s playing against high schoolers. He was the first-ever draft pick for the Bucs, and by 1979, he was the NFL Defensive Player of the Year. He was the anchor. But it wasn't just him.
The 1979 Tampa Bay Buccaneers defense was built on a 3-4 scheme that confused the hell out of veteran quarterbacks. They had this linebacker corps—Dewey Selmon, Richard Wood, and David Lewis—who just played mean. They weren't interested in finesse. They wanted to hit you until you didn't want to get back up.
- They led the league in fewest points allowed (215).
- They were number one in total yards allowed.
- They gave up only 13.4 points per game.
Think about that for a second. In an era where the league was starting to open up the passing game, Tampa Bay was essentially a brick wall. They shut people out. They humiliated the Chicago Bears 5-0 in a regular-season game that looked more like a wrestling match in a swamp than a football game. It was ugly. It was beautiful.
🔗 Read more: Who Won the Golf Tournament This Weekend: Richard T. Lee and the 2026 Season Kickoff
Doug Williams and the Offense of Survival
Let’s be honest: the offense wasn't exactly the 1999 Rams. They were ranked 21st in the league. Doug Williams, the young quarterback out of Grambling State, was still finding his feet. He only completed about 41 percent of his passes that year. By modern standards, those numbers would get a guy benched by Week 4.
But Doug had something else. He had "it." He was tough, he had a cannon for an arm, and he didn't blink in the fourth quarter. He threw for 2,448 yards and 18 touchdowns, which, in 1979, was actually respectable for a winning team. He relied heavily on Ricky Bell.
Bell was the engine. He ran for 1,263 yards that season. He was a workhorse who took the punishment so the defense could rest. If Bell didn't have the year he had, the 1979 Tampa Bay Buccaneers would have just been a mediocre team with a great defense. Instead, his ability to grind out four yards in a cloud of dust turned them into a playoff threat.
That Ridiculous Playoff Run
The city of Tampa was losing its mind. They finished the season 10-6. They won the NFC Central. Let that sink in: a team that was the literal bottom of the barrel three years earlier was now a division champion.
The Divisional Round against the Philadelphia Eagles was the peak. The Bucs won 24-17. Ricky Bell carried the ball 38 times. Thirty-eight! His legs must have felt like lead. But that win put them in the NFC Championship. One game away from the Super Bowl.
💡 You might also like: The Truth About the Memphis Grizzlies Record 2025: Why the Standings Don't Tell the Whole Story
They played the Los Angeles Rams for the right to go to the big dance. It was a defensive struggle for the ages. No touchdowns. None. Just field goals. The Bucs lost 9-0. It was heartbreaking, mostly because the defense did exactly what it was supposed to do. They held the Rams to nine points and still lost. Williams was dealing with a torn bicep muscle and could barely throw. The magic just ran out at the worst possible time.
Why People Get This Team Wrong
A lot of younger fans look back at the 1979 Tampa Bay Buccaneers and think it was a fluke. They see the orange jerseys and the 0-26 start and assume the '79 run was a glitch in the Matrix.
It wasn't.
Head Coach John McKay was a genius, even if he played the "cranky old man" character for the media. His famous quote, when asked about his team's execution—"I'm in favor of it"—is legendary, but beneath the sarcasm, he built a culture of discipline. He knew that in the Florida heat, a suffocating defense and a heavy run game would eventually break opponents.
Also, the impact of Doug Williams cannot be overstated. He was one of the first Black quarterbacks to truly lead a team to the brink of a Super Bowl. He faced immense pressure and flat-out racism, and he handled it with a level of grace that most people couldn't imagine. He proved that the "expansion team" tag didn't have to be a life sentence.
📖 Related: The Division 2 National Championship Game: How Ferris State Just Redrew the Record Books
The Long-Term Fallout
After 1979, things got complicated. The Bucs made the playoffs again in '81 and '82, but the front office—specifically owner Hugh Culverhouse—refused to pay Doug Williams what he was worth. Williams left for the USFL, and the Bucs fell into a "Dark Ages" period that lasted nearly 15 years.
It’s one of the great "What Ifs" in NFL history. If they had paid Williams and kept that 1979 core together, do they win a ring in the early 80s? Probably. Instead, that '79 season stands as a beautiful, isolated mountain peak in an otherwise flat landscape of losing seasons.
Actionable Insights for the Modern Fan
If you want to truly appreciate what the 1979 Tampa Bay Buccaneers accomplished, you have to look past the box scores. You need to understand the context of the era.
- Watch the film of Lee Roy Selmon. Go to YouTube and find 1979 highlights. Watch how he uses his hands to shed blockers. Modern pass rushers still use the techniques he perfected.
- Study the 3-4 Defense transition. Most teams back then ran a 4-3. The Bucs were pioneers in using the 3-4 to create confusion, a tactic that eventually dominated the 80s (think LT and the Giants).
- Read "The Last Headbangers" by Kevin Cook. It gives a visceral look at NFL life in the late 70s and helps explain why a team like the '79 Bucs was able to bully their way to the top.
- Acknowledge the Ricky Bell legacy. Sadly, Bell passed away at age 29 from dermatomyositis. His 1979 season was his masterpiece, and he deserves to be remembered as one of the toughest runners to ever put on a helmet.
The 1979 Tampa Bay Buccaneers proved that in professional sports, the past doesn't have to be a prologue. You can be the worst team in history on Monday and a championship contender by Sunday if you have the right components. They weren't just a football team; they were a lesson in institutional resilience.
Next time you see those "Creamsicle" jerseys, don't laugh. Remember that they represented the meanest defense in the league and a group of guys who refused to stay losers. They earned every bit of that orange and white.
Practical Next Steps:
To dive deeper into this era, look up the 1979 All-Pro roster. You'll see how dominated it was by players from the Bucs and the Steelers, highlighting just how elite that Tampa defense was. Then, compare the 1979 defensive stats to the 2002 Super Bowl-winning Bucs team; you might be surprised to find that the '79 unit was actually statistically superior in several key categories.