Stories of the '87 Off-Season 5: A Lot of Sound and Fury, the '87 NFL Draft
- Colts (2-14)
Vinny Testaverde
- Oilers
(2-14) Cornelius Bennett
- Cowboys
(3-13) Brian Bosworth
- Packers
(4-12) Alonzo Highsmith
- Eagles
(5-11) Jerome Brown
- Niners from
(Chiefs (5-11) Christian Okoye
- Patriots
(6-10) Bruce Armstrong
- Bucs (6-10)
Greg Lloyd
- Bills (7-9)
Shane Conlan
- Raiders
(7-9) Hardy Nickerson
- Saints (7-9)
Shane Knight
- Vikings
(8-8) Brent Fullwood
- Seahawks
(8-8) Tyrone Braxton
- Lions (8-8)
Jerry Ball
- Broncos
(8-8) Ricky Nattiel
- Bears (8-8)
Steve Beuerlein
- Chiefs (5-11
from Niners (8-7-1) + Joe Cribbs) Harris Barton
- Browns
(15-1) Rod Woodson
- Steelers
(10-6) John Bosa
- Falcons
(10-6) Jim Harbaugh
- Giants
(10-6) Mark Ingram
- Bengals
(10-6) Danny Noonan
- Oilers (from
Rams (10-6) dating back to ’85 Jim Everett trade) Haywood Jeffries
- Jets (11-5)
DJ Dozier
- Redskins
(11-5) Tony Woods
- Dolphins
(12-4) Thomas Everett
- Cardinals
(12-3-1) Tim McDonald
- Chargers (10-6) Ed Simmons (from Browns + Chip Banks)
Irsay feared an Elway-like situation, what happened to dad just a few years earlier, so he planned on meeting with Vinny and give him (nearly) any amount of money he wanted to move to Indianapolis. One of the eggheads in the office even calculated cost of living to show the galoot with the canon how much cheaper and more relaxing and luxurious Carmel was compared to Westchester County or redeveloping South Beach or Coral Gables. A man could have a life in Indiana. Irsay even had a premier Japanese architect named Kaz Kobayashi—known for his radical interlocking piece designs inspired by ancient temple construction--on retainer in case Testaverde, or any family members, were into that.
Even though daddy's cabal kept emphasizing that "loose lips sink ships," after the USFL debacle, Jim even considered laying out his imperial plans with Vinny at the center—he had already landed Dickerson in a shock trade so he could talk about that. No, no, no he wasn't some shithead son, he was his own Football Mind who would overcome the failings of his father, the Godhead, and restore dignity to the Colts. Maybe then Johnny Unitas would finally come and sit in one of the Hoosier Dome's luxurious, air conditioned boxes to witness the beginning of a new era.
Jim would be surprised to find an affable young man who called everyone comrade (an affectation picked up from Morenov's congratulatory telex for a superb collegiate career); a talent who admitted to just starting to learn his place in history, or potential place at least. Getting to play in the same division with Kelly and Marino would be a great challenge. Having Dickerson in the backfield, Christ, what a cool thing. Irsay got Vinny for 5 years for $6 million with a $1 million signing bonus and a new Pontiac Fiero SE, all the luxury of a Ferrari but with American-built quality (Vinny wasn't that interested, but Jim had a deal with a local dealership trying to offload some kits, ED got one too, even Hogeboom and Caspers on their way out of town). It proved to be the least puzzling aspect of the first round of the ‘87 draft.
It wasn't Landry's idea to defy the tenuous agreement between the NFL and NCAA by picking Boz third, but Dallas just had its worst season in 26 years and Bum Bright saw something he had never seen—a sea of blue seats in the House Football (and The Great Creator) Built. After cutting Danny White and seeing him go to Washington, Dallas needed something. The most popular athletes in town were Roy Tarpley and indoor soccer sensation Tatu. They decided to go with Collier and Pelluer (the latter for now, they were working a deal for Tommy Kramer) in the qb slots. There was still something to the troika of Dorsett, Walker, and Newsome. Maybe look at defense? Too Tall still had a bit in the tank, but getting a big name would help. There was a big money Oklahoma alumni base too. And they were America's Team. Think of the possibilities: a man like Landry's fire applied to Boz's pig iron, another Cowboy of Damascus steel. You get the idea. Hell, sounds like an NFL Film at least. Maybe even a new Brian's Song. We even got a title! An arbitrary labor control didn't apply to them.
The cyclone of the USFL decision, labor pressures, and creeping Morenovism (every front office but Tampa received the Bircher's newsletter) meant no one even noticed the erosion of the norm. All the owners welcomed Boz. If the Cowboys were good it would be slightly irritating but more revenue long term and from multiple streams ("Think of it," wrote Tarkenton, "a white Jim Brown!"). If they ate shit, it would be even more revenue short term plus the shameful pleasure to see the Cowboys really suffer for once. Win-win. A serpentine "Boz Rule" would emerge a year later to prevent other clubs from pulling the same move; it was almost impossible to interpret—the anonymous author could have been a Brezhnevite—and the whole matter was swept under the rug. Boz was just happy to make some green for his unwaged labor.
(The only professional football team that saw any punishment from the Boz affair was the newly reconstituted Oklahoma Outlaws of the USFL, owned by business interests representing Oral Roberts and a couple of shady energy traders. They offered Bosworth $1 million to play during the hastily organized ‘86 spring season but the University of Oklahoma—who controlled the team's lease—threatened to kick them out of Memorial Stadium. A plan to sign him and move to Tulsa was also blunted because the only suitable facility was Skelly Stadium at TU (the old Outlaws original home) and the NCAA threatened the Death Penalty if the University let him on campus Roberts would lay out a grand plan to build a 40,000 seat gleaming gold arena out along 71st street in Tulsa, but the design—by Kaz Kobyashi—called for such a large amount of brass and pyrite cladding (which thanks to Morenov's experimental return to the Kyosgin plan meant it was dirt cheap) that the material, blazing in the Oklahoma sun, was estimated to raise the temperature 3 degrees within a five mile radius.--ed.)
Boz was the second linebacker taken; Houston considered the gamble but Bennett seemed like the real deal and they had arguably the worst defense in the league.
Lloyd, from little Fort Valley State, was the shocker to the Bucs. The selection was the idea of Tampa's new coach Chief Riel. Known to be an offensive guru, the big, boisterous Metis (who claimed direct descendance from the famed freedom fighter) was also regarded in his native Canada as the greatest scout in the 3-down game.
Riel spent the late 70s and early 80s in an old Pinto crisscrossing the Deep South, with side trips to the Plains and Appalachia, scouring for talent for Edmonton's secondary (those little but tough and quick guys that can float around those wide gray zones in the middle, dudes not quite big enough for the narrower American game, guys who would play for 50,000 loonies).
Old habits die hard, and
Riel liked the solitude. He didn't get to do it in two years with his buddy in
St. Louis. Wandering was conduct unbecoming of an NFL coach, but Laffy
appreciated the Commitment to an Ideal—he compared it to Che traversing the
Argentinian hinterlands providing free health care in his youth. Scouts all
looked at Lloyd via stat sheets and VHS tape, but Riel watched him workout for
a whole week in that just-right-Spring-Georgia-heat and knew he had to take
him, even as high as 8. New GM Gil Zanzibar, who cut his teeth organizing
tobacco rollers with Laffy, complied. He didn't really know why he had the job.
Assistant GM Patience Wyatt, a concession to the Salt Lake outfit, wanted to
take BYU standout Jason Buck, but Riel had a genius aura to him that stamped
that out.
The rest of the linebacker cue made a little more sense. Conlan was a gimmie at 9. After trading away Millen in the Williams deal, Al Davis worked out USFL legend John Corker and Buddy Curry, cut by Atlanta despite 8 sacks and 3 picks in ‘86. Curry's rambling about Hollywood Perverts and a bourgeoning hydroxychloroqine-for-aquariums business turned Davis off—that and Irsay who, as part of his Vision, offered way more money. Nickerson played in Davis' old backyard up in Berkeley and he was big tough and mean. It made sense. Plus Allen Junkin--highly touted heading into the draft—went to a fancy basketball school. What type of football player would go play at Duke anyway? A goddamn future equity stooge, that's who. A raider not a Raider (Junkin would drop to the 3rd round to Kansas City).
Outside of linebackers, the running back class appeared to be fairly deep. The surest fire, Alonzo Highsmith, went to Green Bay at 4. The consensus was Bo Jackson, though no one would dare waste a pick—he seemed content with baseball. Culverhouse and the Bucs probably did irreplaceable damage.
In a very strange move,
the 49ers traded Joe Cribbs, their first rounder, and 4 and 5s in 1988 and 1989
to the Chiefs to take Christian Okoye out of Asuza Pacific. The already 26-year-old
hadn't started playing football until three years before. Everybody heard of
him but mostly as an oddity: ridiculous stats in little Sporting News
back columns, highlights at the end of the late Sportscenter or on George
Michael's Sports Machine under the credits. He certainly looked like
the best running back after Jackson, but NAIA is real Mickey Mouse. How would
he deal with Bob Golic or LT?
San Fran had been hurting: 13-17-2 in the two years since an 18-1 season and a Super Bowl, DeBartelo was getting nosey into the tenured Bill Walsh's planning. They needed a lineman to help protect Montana. DeBartelo needed a splash with media and to keep fickle fans engaged—that’s what winning does. Eddie read about Okoye and saw the clips. He might be there at 18. And Barton or someone like him will be there in the 2nd round.
Walsh recognized Montana or DeBerg (the prodigal son returned after The Great Tuesday Terror) would need more consistent help in the backfield. Cribbs was getting that slow kind of old, and Craig—despite somebrilliant performances in ‘86 (him and Rice were the offense in their 70-55 historic loss to Miami)—missed 4 games with the ticky-tack injuries that mount on the great ones. Dickerson had the same problem in ‘86, but the Rams had Dupree and White.
Walsh asked an old friend at Whittier College. about him, the friend sent tapes of Okoye stomping the Poets for 400 yards and 8 touchdowns in a game in ’85. Bill watched more ("Bill Fucking Walsh wants to see the Nigerian Nightmare!" exclaimed an exuberant student DJ), but was still convinced there was some sort of trick; game footage resembled the hyper-speed of Keystone Cops footage. The linemen falling like pins or running in the opposite direction.
It was only when Walsh
finally see Okoye in person prepping for track practice that he finally saw
what people were talking about. Like seeing Buster Keaton projected at the
correct speed: oh there's the grace! The languidity! These words rang in
Walsh's head because he wasn't a poet. At least not that way.
They started mapping out plays and formations before the draft. He was a power back, definitely, but he seemed like he could catch. When Okoye admitted he only did football as a job, Walsh seemed okay with that and started drawing up simple schemes for him at tight end in case he wanted to mix it up.
Walsh called to deal, but didn't express that it was Okoye they wanted. Fullwood was their guy, or maybe Shane King. Walsh made the above offer. Schaaf countered with the offer and extra picks. Even if they lost on Okoye they could still get a good lineman and now they'd have Cribbs and Delaney in the backfield. That's how it ended up working out. Walsh would find a lineman in USFL all-star Pat Phenix. The Chiefs got Barton at 18, the second lineman to go. Schaaf was still high on Blackledge too—he was good if he just stood still.
Fullwood, a top 5 pick on some boards, would fall to Minnesota at 12. The Jets would get Heisman finalist D.J. Dozier at 21, generating some excitement—McNeill, Hector, and Paige (though he would be cut and sign with Detroit) were all good but all injured in some combination at the same time in ‘86. Barely missing the playoffs in ‘85, getting smoked by the Bengals last year. The Widow Trump passing on being owner; no new stadium in Dumbo. It was looking rough for a while there but maybe the turn was finally coming.
The Colts weren't the only
team looking for a new field general, but it was clear the ‘87 pool was
shallow. Green Bay—who lost their first ten in ‘86 before going 4-3 the rest of
the way—seemed increasingly blessed deeper into the off-season for stumbling
into Chuck Fusina (the chief reason for the turnaround), a late training camp
add after Ferragamo went down with a hand injury. The Pack would still take a
qb, but it wouldn't be until Dan Majawoski in round 10.
The tragic death of Kelly Stouffer in January only added to management burden. The consensus second choice died trying to "gleam the trident" (think Cannon Ball Run but with cigarette speedboats) after the Senior Bowl in Honolulu. While he spent his whole life landlocked (growing up in Nebraska before playing at Colorado State), he yearned to conquer the Wine Dark Sea. Instead, the Mother of Creation took back her big beautiful boy to her bosom.
This weighed heavily on Ditka, who thought highly of the mid-major star, and knew he would fall to the Bears at 17. That left Harbaugh and Miller and a few others. Tomzack was a disaster and while everyone admired McMahon's monastic rehabilitation, Ditka wanted an insurance policy. Harbaugh seemed competent and a good game manager. They tried Vince Evans and Flutie—flashy, clever quarterbacks. They needed a steady hand. The Michigan star would do.
Enter the Archbishop of Chicago. Called to a secret meeting, Ditka was informed of the Father's deep concern of the club's recent debauchery and dramatic decline. The priests mentioned a curse. McMahon, in his naiveté, wasn't doing any favors training with a defrocked heretic and near apostate—even if the Archbishop personally was sympathetic to the Lefebvreists. Who the Bears would pick first had become of concern to the highest orders of the clergy in America. Who knows what the Vatican thought as well.
Pointing out that roughly 70% of season ticket holders were Catholic—not even to mention local sponsors, media organs, and corporate entities in business with the league in general--it would behoove the Chicago Bears Football Club to look deep within themselves and listen to the better angels of their nature. There was a player who could quell descent and secure the team's future: Steve Beuerlein. Selecting a player from the holiest university in the world would be a good beginning at a penitence for the excesses of the last two years.
Ditka smacked his gum at a
polite tone, lost in contemplation behind trademark dark shades. Notre Dame
quarterbacks suck. Joe Montana was an aberration, one of those 100 year
prophets. "Sure, yeah, your holiness."
Mike was acutely aware of two things: he understood what his material interests were at all times, and that he was a genius—they were 5-8 and brained their way to a division title anyway. It will work out. He walks a holy path of reflection and abstinence (in most vices) every god dang day for Christ's sakes. Tries to, at least.
The selection of St. Stevie B, what he was endearingly by the local media, would see Harbaugh drop to the Falcons. The Cardinals would take Chris Miller in the second round, while New England would take Rich Gannon in the fourth (where Beuerlein was originally projected) before trading him to Minnesota.
Quick Hits
- Having acquired Native Son (going to BC was enough to count—ed.) Doug Flutie from the Bears, the Patriots made the sensible selection of lineman Bruce Armstrong at 6. It was a decision built on nearly 400 years of the history and tradition of its people, a group who cherish Protestant work ethics in all things, and who have total impatience with any obstacle that stands in each individual New Englander's vision of the world (don't forget they also have a complete commitment to a form of art devoted to the complete flattening of needless complexity and nuance, leaving no room for critique or even discussion; they call this “austere”—ed.). Taking the best lineman for their new quarterback made perfect sense. Also rookie linemen are incredibly cheap and should just be happy to have a job.
- The Browns selection of Woodson at 18 confused some. Dixon and Minnifield were both shutdown corners in their prime and a big reason for their title run. But Modell’s trade of Chip Banks to a recent playoff rival incensed Keinath and mildly annoyed Accorsi (he was a company stooge mostly and he was also used to Modell’s meddling). Art desperately wanted Mike Junkin and was elated that he was likely going to drop to them. Keinath didn’t trust a white linebacker from a blue-blood school who played on mediocre teams; why does everybody get excited about guys like that? Keinath knew the answer to that question, so he went ahead and got the best available player on the board in Woodson. And it was Marc’s call because he got an intern to hijack Accorsi’s line to New York and redirect it out of his office. Modell was furious, but what to do with a Wunderkind who just led your team to a historic championship? Accorsi got a compromise out of it, signing USFL all-star, area native, and Ohio State standout Marcus Marek to take Banks’ old spot
- Gunner Gilbert, creator of the BircherSports forum on The Source, was the chief architect of the high selection of Braxton, another small college prospect wallowing in obscurity, at number 14. The Spokane resident and Seahawks die-hard spent months "posting" about the North Dakota safety on the service's "forums." He saw him twice his senior year--once against Eastern Washington and once against Idaho State while visiting relatives—and felt Braxton would be a good fit in Seattle. Easley was getting old and Robinson was still young and talented. Braxton would make an excellent complement to either player. Gilbert got the ear of fellow Bircher Steve Largent, Regional Station Chief, Northwest, who sent pages and pages of underlined and annotated notes to GM Mike McCormack. Overwhelmed by the information, and taking Largent's endorsement, the Seahawks made the gamble. Braxton wouldn't see action until ‘88, barring any injuries. The Chargers selection of Eastern Washington OT Ed Simmons to close the round was due to San Diego owner Gene Klein, Shadow Chairman of the entire John Birch Society, who read about Simmons in his near religious morning perusal of Gilbert's "posts."
- Glenn Blackwood, a critical piece of the ‘85 Super Bowl team, had a strong ‘86 but was showing his age and abruptly retired (he had a stake in Curry's aquarium chemical business). This prompted the fish to take Everett at 27. They considered McDonald, who went right after to St. Louis, and the arguments among staffers got heated enough for Shula to flip a coin. Hence Everett.
- Quarterback Chris Miller, thought to be a first rounder, would drop to the Cardinals in round 2; highly buzzed about Rod Bernstine would go to San Diego right after. As insurance for Nickerson, the Raiders would send a 6th round pick and a 3rd in ‘88 to Miami for Hugh Green, who was battling an elbow injury and his contract (Nightingale, again, would help orchestrate this move, calling in a favor from Shula; Davis helped mediate an earlier Swan incident at Georgia Frontiere's house during a Bicentennial Party). Davis would gamble a 7th rounder on Bo Jackson, thinking he could convince him to come to LA. New England considered the same thing a round earlier but ultimately decided it wouldn't be prudent, as part of Calvinist tradition.
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