1963 Kansas City Chiefs Season

The 1963 Kansas City Chiefs season was the inaugural season of Kansas City’s new football franchise. Despite winning the 1962 AFL Championship the previous year, the Chiefs finished the year 5–7–2 and third in their division.

For the previous three seasons, the team was known as the Dallas Texans. Owner and founder Lamar Hunt moved the team following the 1962 AFL Championship. Despite enormous success in Dallas, Texas, the city could not sustain two professional football franchises (the other being the NFL's Dallas Cowboys). The team was renamed the Kansas City Chiefs and moved into Municipal Stadium alongside the Kansas City Athletics baseball team.

Read more about 1963 Kansas City Chiefs Season:  Goin' To Kansas City, Season Background, Regular Season, Postseason

Famous quotes containing the words kansas, city, chiefs and/or season:

    Since the Civil War its six states have produced fewer political ideas, as political ideas run in the Republic, than any average county in Kansas or Nebraska.
    —H.L. (Henry Lewis)

    A sturdy lad from New Hampshire or Vermont who in turn tries all the professions, who teams it, farms it, peddles, keeps a school, preaches, edits a newspaper, goes to Congress, buys a township, and so forth, in successive years, and always like a cat falls on his feet, is worth a hundred of these city dolls. He walks abreast with his days and feels no shame in not “studying a profession,” for he does not postpone his life, but lives already.
    Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882)

    If you tie a horse to a stake, do you expect he will grow fat? If you pen an Indian up on a small spot of earth, and compel him to stay there, he will not be contented, nor will he grow and prosper. I have asked some of the great white chiefs where they get their authority to say to the Indian that he shall stay in one place, while he sees white men going where they please. They can not tell me.
    Chief Joseph (c. 1840–1904)

    She, O, she is fallen
    Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea
    Hath drops too few to wash her clean again
    And salt too little which may season give
    To her foul tainted flesh!
    William Shakespeare (1564–1616)