Lyles, 72, and Moore, 75, are the only black players still alive from that team, and Lyles was just an anonymous rookie in 1958. He was drafted that same year out of Louisville, where he went from being the first African-American scholarship player in school history to the Cardinals' all-time leading rusher. He rarely played in Baltimore, though, despite being one of the fastest men in the country and an electric kickoff returner.
It was widely suspected at the time that teams had an unspoken agreement to keep no more than seven African-American players on their roster at one time. Lyles acknowledged that he didn't handle it well and was frustrated that the coaching staff didn't seem particularly interested in working with him to help him improve. He was traded to the San Francisco 49ers after one season, and was so angry about the way he was let go, he tried to take it out on the Colts the next season. He returned a kickoff 97 yards for a touchdown in a 34-10 victory, harassed the Colts' wide receivers relentlessly and contemplated breaking Szymanski's leg.
"I hate saying these things, but it's what happened," Lyles says.
The Colts brought him back in 1961, and Lyles started at defensive back for the final seven seasons of his career, which ended after 1969.
"It was tough in Baltimore," Lyles said of his first stint with the Colts. "It was almost like they didn't want me to make the team. Back then, blacks always had to compete against other blacks. I think after drafting Jim Parker, Lenny Moore and myself consecutive years in the first round that three blacks in a row was just too much for some people."
Moore, a future Hall of Famer, was one of the undisputed stars of the 1958 championship team, a versatile athlete who broke the mold as one of the few players of that era equally adept at running the ball or lining up at wide receiver. He scored 14 touchdowns that year, was second in the league in total yards from scrimmage with 1,536, and was named first-team All-Pro.
But in many respects, he was still treated like a second-class citizen in Baltimore.
In his autobiography, All Things Being Equal, Moore describes an incident that happened shortly after the 1958 championship game. He was invited to a banquet at an all-white Baltimore country club for a dinner honoring boxer and war hero Barney Ross, but when he arrived, he was told he had to use the back entrance, by the kitchen.
