Lee Roy Jordan, whose ferocious play in the 1960s and ’70s made him one of the most feared linebackers in college and the NFL and the dean of the Dallas Cowboys’ fabled Doomsday Defense, died Saturday in a Dallas hospice of kidney failure, his son David said. He was 84.

Over a career that included a key role in Bear Bryant’s first national championship at Alabama and the Cowboys’ first Super Bowl win, Jordan raised the standard with relentless effort and preparation and by demanding the best from his teammates.

A five-time Pro Bowler, NFC Defensive Player of the Year and member of two all-time SEC teams as well as the Cowboys’ Silver Anniversary team, he was the first player inducted into the Ring of Honor by Jerry Jones in 1989.

In an era when middle linebackers such as Ray Nitschke, Willie Lanier and Dick Butkus ruled, Jordan held his own with anyone.

“Lee Roy was as good as any linebacker in football,” longtime broadcaster Verne Lundquist once said.

“Period.”

Born the fourth of seven children on a farm in Excel, Ala., without electricity, Jordan was discovered by Jerry Claiborne, one of Bryant’s assistants, while scouting another player. Because Jordan wasn’t particularly big or fast, the staff considered him a marginal prospect. Once on campus, he quickly proved otherwise.

Driven by Bryant, whom he considered a second father, he accelerated the Bear’s timetable for restoring Alabama to the top of college football. He was the best player on the Crimson Tide’s 1961 national title team and finished fourth in the Heisman Trophy voting as a senior.

He carved a permanent place in Alabama lore with 31 tackles in the Tide’s 17-0 win over Oklahoma in the 1963 Orange Bowl.

“If they stay in bounds,” Bryant once said, “ol’ Lee Roy will tackle ’em.”

Friend or foe, it didn’t matter to Jordan. Near the end of the Senior Bowl, a blow to the face cost him four front teeth. An athletic trainer stuffed gauze in his mouth to stop the bleeding, but Jordan spit it out.

“Let’s go!” he shouted, returning to the field to lead a goal-line stand that preserved the South’s win.

“It may have been a meaningless game for some of them,” Alabama teammate Bill Battle wrote, “but it wasn’t for Lee Roy.”

Jordan didn’t let up at practice, either. After the Cowboys selected him with the sixth pick of the 1963 draft, he drew the ire of some veterans by demanding more effort from teammates. He knew no other way to play.

Dan Reeves, then a rookie, learned that in a scrimmage. Running through what he thought was a hole, he met Jordan’s famous forearm shiver, which shattered his facemask and split his lip.

If that’s what he does to his teammates, Reeves wondered, what does he do to opponents?

“Dan,” Jordan later told him, “if my grandmother put on a helmet and ran the ball for the other team, I would have to tackle her.”

From 1963-76, including a 12-year stretch of 154 consecutive starts at middle linebacker, no Cowboy made more tackles than Jordan. He credited Tom Landry’s Flex defense for maximizing his skills. At 6-1 and 220 pounds, one of the smallest players at the position, he relied on quick first steps and preparation.

He also credited Jerry Tubbs, the player he replaced, with teaching him the nuances of Landry’s system. Jordan studied so much film, he once asked for a projector during contract talks.

His dedication and Christian faith led the Cowboys to assign him as Don Meredith’s roommate on the road and before home games. Jordan’s job was to make sure Dandy Don made it back before curfew. He called himself Meredith’s “babysitter” for six years until Meredith’s retirement at 31.

Often asked if his greatest feat was the 31-tackle game in the Orange Bowl, Jordan wrote in his memoir, “I laugh and say my greatest accomplishment in football was being able to get Don Meredith back to the room in time for bed-check … most of the time.”

Though he cultivated a fierce reputation on the field, Jordan was a gentleman off it, a family man beloved by teammates.

“On the field, he was the best middle linebacker I’ve ever seen,” Reeves wrote. “Off the field, he is one of the best people I’ve ever known.”

Reeves once lived at the end of the same Lake Highlands street as the Jordans, along with the families of Chuck Howley, Tony Liscio and Dave Manders. David, the oldest of Lee Roy and Biddie’s three sons, said growing up there it seemed like everyone’s dad was a Cowboy.

“He was one of those guys. It took a lot to make him mad,” David said. “But you didn’t want to get him there. He was unwavering. Firm but fair.

“He would give you three chances before he broke the belt out on you.”

He was also quick to hug and tell his boys he loved them, David’s wife, Melanie, said, a practice that immediately endeared him to her.

After his career ended in 1976, Jordan bought a couple of lumber yards and worked for decades. He remained in good health, David said, until a few years ago, when dementia believed to be caused by chronic traumatic encephalopathy, or CTE, made him more reserved.

He continued to travel with his wife of 62 years back to Alabama to see friends and family. But after a recent trip this summer, his health declined sharply. In the last six weeks, he was diagnosed with multiple myeloma and renal failure. The family checked him into Faith Presbyterian Hospice, where he died early Saturday.

Besides his wife, whom he met at Alabama, he is survived by three sons and eight grandchildren.

Before his death, David said, one of his favorite teammates, Roger Staubach, visited with his wife, Marianne.

“You were my boss,” the Hall of Fame quarterback told Jordan. “You were the baddest guy on the football field.”

Despite what dementia took from him, Melanie said, he could always say, “Love you.”

Services are pending.