Stories of the '87 Off-Season 6: Conclusion, Weeks in Decades, Decades in Weeks

The NFL, and pro football in general, were in a harried state. Reaganism had been working to establish this state for six years (it goes back even further, but then again, this is a reflection of a single NFL season—ed.). We weren't humans or even mammals or on land; we were now all trying to be sharks. Most of us were chum. Keep on swimming, keep moving; don't hide in the cave too long. Press and press and if the sharks descend on your school just keep moving. All your friends in the jaws? Those fellas just weren't quick enough, like you. 

The league was fine but they were nervous heading into '87. They made it through 1982 through media blitzing. Look at all the poor peanut sellers! Look at Dandy Dan Fouts, he makes $600k a year minimum, he isn't you. There was no organized opposition—liberalism, the Lady of the House, shooed them away—and the first barrage of political reforms crushed people enough that there was no sympathy after a while. The NFL provided them diversion; bad CFL games and Otterbein-Wittenberg shootouts weren't enough. Get back to work, pussies. 

Not that ownership came out of this heroes; people hated them too, maybe even more. Guys like the Chargers' Klein repeating over and over how his team was like a small town bar can only go so far, even with the most aspirational (at least with this stuff, aesthetics—ed.). The owners were greedy, denying my respite.

The USFL's arrival in 1983 started a crunch. Labyrinths of labor control were breaking down. Kelly didn't want to freeze his ass off in Buffalo, who could blame him? Elway doesn't want to live in Baltimore and play for a drunk? Herschel doesn't want to wait a year to be paid a fair wage in Atlanta, so close to home? The den of thieves that ran the spring league weren't much better but they wrote checks and about half of that cashed. 

 Trump's involvement instilled confidence in The Old Boys. They even drafted the entire league in '84 anticipating a collapse; then came the fall plan then came the lawsuit. Easy peesy.

Then came Providence to pluck its albatross from the sky. Then came small j justice—this is football after all—then came $374 million out of the coffers. Then came all the scions, oafs throwing around mother's and father's money. 

The USFL's reconstruction as a second division competition still put pressure on the Institution. They still outbid every once in a while and they paid well enough and the league was going to have to pay them for talent starting in '88. 

Then came the vanguard.

 ***

Morenovism! the Birchers cried when the troika of Marino, Irv Eatman, and Merlin Olsen usurped Gene Upshaw for control of the union. They came with a list of demands on May 5:

 

1. Guaranteed contracts through the season (cut players get paid)
2. Universal Pension for all living players of not only the NFL, but the AAFC and AFL. 
3. Universal healthcare for life for all living players.
4. Abolishment of reserve system and the establishment of Free Agency.
5. Player representation on club board of directors (can be former or current players, or those elected and provided by the Player's Vanguard).
6. 60-40 split to players on TV revenue. 
7. Abolition of inheritance of teams by dipshit sons (their words); city governments get first-look before bidding process.

"Socialized medicine and pensions!?" cried Tarkenton in his weekly column. "We didn't have that guys—hey, why don't you get a REAL JOB with health insurance like the REST of us."

The owners rejected all of it flatly and, for a few days, fired all the players and put them on blacklists." Just like what Reagan did to those ungrateful Air Traffic guys," Bidwell told local media. They would restock their rosters with new talent moving forward. The only owners who broke were Bolivar and Irsay. Laffy was sympathetic to the players; Jim had spent so much time building his club. 

Plenty of guys were out there and wanted to play football, but what talent were they going to find? USFL was near mid-season and owners suddenly doled out bonuses and accepted their own union; plus it was a 10 team league (Pittsburgh and Portland were revived). The Canadian government offered citizenship to all foreign players on rosters and then effectively nationalized the league, designating all players as Federal Employees. Again, though, they were a nine team league. College maybe, but all the talent got plucked already and were in the new union in the USFL.

Coaches split. The Wunderkinds refused to helm their teams. Ditka welcomed "real men" through gum chomps; he thought maybe with a clean slate there'd be no curse. Most were like Ditka, especially Atlanta's Marion Campbell; who wants to deal with David Archer?

It might've worked if there was no competition and they didn't see the players as serfs. Consultant firms suggested just offering some players more money—create factions—but  Bidwell and Modell and Rooney and Sullivan all harumphed. "There was no money" they all shouted, the New Axiom of the Age. But that ain't going to cut it. Birchers made hay about a substantial strike fund fully back by the KGB, which did slip into mainstream media.

The pale-faced, mustachioed kulaks in local and national television segments hinted at this Bircher theory in their disappointments, complaining about showboaters and spoiled sissies, but they looked tired too. The ’86 season was wild. Early b-roll of a 47-year-old Roman Gabriel squirting passes to Cullen Bryant, and a gum chomping Ditka, framed like a Ba’ath Party official, extolling the real masculinity of Oklahoma Outlaws’ 3rd-string defector Sean Payton just weren’t flying. ESPN focused on Australian Football and The Cannon Ball Run; discussion during USFL coverage was all sub-text, emphasizing the league’s progressivism in union acceptance, high-quality play, and consistent attendance. 

Too much pressure and this time it was organized. The piston in the engine to focus the steam energy of the people came in the form of the Black Hammer Party, who were still talking to Bidwell while maneuvering to control other, more important institutions. Terror sort of helped. The Chief and DA’s deaths created a power vacuum; Black Hammer already had a direct action wing that provided mutual aid and assistance in poor neighborhoods, and successfully intimidated police. Anytime the cops attempted to ramp up control, a despondent Vietnam vet would emerge from the wings and start picking them off. The police recruited Lyon Davies, a sort of late night cable TV positivity guru to disrupt protests by embracing cops and putting flowers in guns, etc.—the hippy 60s liberal movement tactics chopped up and recycled over and over again in primetime mini-series, Mark Harmon coming-of-age films, and Era detergent ads. That didn't last long. Davies' body was found in a van naked except for a leather jacket, white socks, and black shoes. It wasn't that the cops were defeated; they just started giving up as a tactical strategy, but if you keep cutting and cutting and cutting and provide nothing, and television cameras keep catching Woolworth on fire, it all starts to look cool to the desponded.

Vremya would do pieces that blasted across the Iron Curtain to Western Europe via East Germany, which, while maybe not affecting public opinion directly, still bothered the White House; a sort of detente emerged starting in ‘85 that trickled down to internal power institutions in the U.S. “Morenovism,” in its various forms of was sort of working—a modified Kosygin plan made state industry more effective (Unknown until about 1989 was the case of high-level engineers and planners at Wal-mart and its contractors either defecting with, or passing of, plans and layouts for full-scale automation and distribution logistics, which helped fuel the “Luxury Communism” approach promoted by Morenov—ed.), the “Great Liquidation” was welcomed by Soviet peoples—old bureaucrats disappeared overnight, public corruption trials rooted others out. Mammoth internal infrastructure, economic, and cultural programs—a sort of “New Deal” for the Eastern Bloc, as it was referred to in American Liberal Media—seem to spring up overnight (This setup the legitimate revision of the Brezhnev-era constitution, which eliminated language of “legitimate” autonomy of individual republics, a sort of legal sticking point the CIA was using while backing nationalists and ex-Nazis across the Bloc—ed.). The French covertly sent nuclear industry experts to help renovate the Chernobyl facility in the summer of ’85.The slippery concept of Morenovism also seemed to be a reinvigorated notion of worldwide revolution and external power projection. It was hard to contest domestically, especially if you worked at the Firestone plant in Dayton, Ohio or built planes at McDonald-Douglass in Tulsa, Oklahoma. The CIA and State Department were overwhelmed by assassinations, mysterious deaths, and catastrophes: Jesse Helms stabbed to death during a photo op at a mall seafood buffet by a white Grenada vet; fifty-one FBI agents found in the bottom of one of New Hampshire’s many fine lakes (though locals attributed this to Whitey Bulger—ed.). No one could find Elliot Abrams, Charlie Wilson, or Alexander Soltzynitsin. Afghanistan was still a quagmire, but the infrastructure projects extended to them and newly freed and formed countries across the Third World (the worldwide revolution part) ameliorated the conflict as Morenov tried to find a way out (this would lead to a second liquidation in ’87—ed.). There were also  successful extractions, show trials, and executions of American intelligence figures. Olive branch discussions with China—it was reported Morenov, while not a fan of Dengism, admired its reinvention and knew ties needed to be mended—proved overwhelming. The bullied had popped off. Morale was low within intelligence, defense, and weapon contractors. The public distribution of the names of CIA field agents—“hacked” from monolithic Alexandria servers—damaged numerous American counter-operations across the third and uncontested worlds. Morale was low.

This seemed like a good time for seizure. Just days after the strike demands, the Post-Dispatch ran a story about Bidwell’s plan to relocate to Jacksonville—in the fall, the USFL announced the Jacksonville Bulls had gotten a new majority owner, a company called First True Sports International. Leaked documents revealed it to be a shell company, one of several, that could be traced back to Bidwell and a friend of a friend, a mysterious “mathematics genius” who made a fortune in developing computer-driven trades and portfolio management. Bidwell—in debt up to his eyeballs—wanted to double-dip in TV revenue (USFL had secured a five year deal with ESPN/ABC worth $50 million after the ’86 experiment proved successful) while also make substantially more money in the Sun Belt (had they been in the NFL, the Bulls would’ve been in the top 5 of league attendance). Bidwell’s eventual plan, according to the paper, was to recreate the Jacksonville Bulls in the NFL by merging the Cardinals and USFL club roster to make a “super team.” The city also promised a dome, eventually—a retrofit onto the Gator Bowl, designed by Kaz Kobayahsi.  

No one ever seemed to be punished in this new world; when the Black Hammer Party sent a mix of their own armed members in conjunction with sympathetic cops (really members formally deputized) to seize the club as a city asset, they even drew support from the suburbs. Losing Big Red became a unifying issue, and both Cardinals teams were revenue generators for the city in terms of concessions, parking, and lease payments; owning the club outright would gain them access to television and ticket revenue, while protecting them from entitled scions like Bidwell. 

Only in this moment—owners in a weak position, players on strike, a near Super Bowl caliber team, a state department and Capital in general focus on other things, a media more interested in the spectacle—could appropriation take place. With backing from the Busch family—who had a working relationship with the direction action side in the form of a protection racket on game nights in the summer (the one objectively true things Birchers claimed was that Black Hammer would pay teenagers to either outright mug or intimidate incoming fans, leading to the need of their services; the homeless and mentally ill dumped into the streets were purely the result of the system all the fans had been benefiting from). The city transferred club control to a committee who would run and make business decisions, including distribution of excess revenue beyond club operations. The beer barons would get three permanent members, the party would get two, and four would be elected bi-annually during a special election. When county and metro would merge into one government, voting expanded beyond the city’s borders, though Mayor Stubal Morgan (Black Hammer founder and former head of direct action operations) would limit suburban representation to two. The baseball cardinals would receive, through their backing, renovations to Busch Stadium. With acceptance, the Cardinals would become the second “community” club in the NFL after the Packers. Tip O'Neill would consider a similar move with the Patriots, but that would also "fly in the face of the Hand of Providence," and over 400 years of successful individual pursuit, the New England value that bounds all together, further proving his lack of political acumen. Cleveland’s civic government, a coalition of 70s-style High Liberal Dems and Black Hammers, started to be inspired themselves, especially after meetings with Modell.

A dangerous precedent, the real infiltration of Morenovism and the Communist Project at large shouted the Birchers from their newsletter. The NFL refused to recognize the appropriation into mid-June, as local and national media focused on vaguely athletic men with names like Carl Qualls struggling to push through blocking pads. Ferragamo came out of retirement to compete with Todd Hons for the starting job in San Francisco. "Look at these LUNCH pail BOYS!!!" Tarkenton noted in his June 15 column. "Morenov, whom I like to call BOREnov, would like to have us think water lifts all boats, but we know great vessels CUT through water, and if you are a little tugger like Mr. Sean Payton or Mr. Rudy Riddiger (He is referring to Ruettiger, a Notre Dame defensive back who made one appearance in his college career, personally signed by Ditka as a way to sway the base—ed.), it only matters how tough your motor is." Oh god oh god oh god.

The White House finally got involved; this wasn't air traffic controllers, this was something integral to the fabric of American life and culture, The Freakin' NFL. The Vremya stories of poor blacks and whites barely surviving in gutted Baltimore or out on the fringes in towns like Ada, Oklahoma didn't move the diplomatic needle, (just more “What Aboutism”) but stories of the exploitation of former and current players by their fat-cat bosses and grifter sons was a dangerous narrative. Plus Ronnie, even in his advanced state, could tell rookie Cris Carter was going to be better than now heavy-winded Vince Papale. There were actually measureable, objective talents at play, see. And we just bought off a generation, remarked Rothbard, in comments echoed by Laffer and even Friedman, the Great Prophet; let the little Stalinists run their club into the ground, we will swoop in eventually; if it happens in Cleveland we’ll do it there too. Shitty football with scabs was more of an existential threat (Birchers beyond Tarkenton even got this concept—no one didn't want to see Bo Jackson make his debut, they just didn't want a guy like Bo to gripe). You also have a motherfucker who looks like somewhere between Ted Danson and Robert Urich in the Kremlin winning people over internationally; we got a hack actor who eats candy all day between signing death warrants. Making a concession here was required in the propaganda war. Someone dropped off a coffee canister containing the fingers of our inside man Yeltsin at Ronnie’s favorite McDonalds. Strategic retreat for now, they told the owners

That the owners accepted terms on Juneteenth was the idea of Lee Atwater. There were nitpicks here and there, but owners largely agreed to the Vanguard’s terms:

 

1. A universal pension, funded by owners and TV revenue, to all players who spent at least two years on an active roster in the AAFC, AFL, and NFL, dating back to 1946. The pension will be run by the Vanguard. 
2. Free healthcare for life for players who met the above requirement.
3. Player representation on club boards through a system worked out among owners, former players, and the Vanguard.
4. 50-50 TV revenue split, to be paid out through the pension. 
5. Commitment to consideration of outside input into inheritance decisions. 
6. Commitment to considering feedback on team ownership transfers.
7. Commitment to not establishing salary ceilings or a cap. 
8. Plan B Free Agency

While Irsay would push for total free agency, this remained off the table–league owners wanted some stability (labor control—ed.). The Vanguard’s lawyer—Dangerfield Douglass, who cut his labor teeth working with Bolivar in the tobacco plants–conveyed a need to assuage their mostly kulak fanbase, who was with them right now (the time will come for that confrontation). Plus Plan B, which allowed players to talk to other clubs and forced rights-holders to match deals, had the very good chance of directing angerof the potatoes towards their individual owners if they didn't match. Guys like Irsay—who wouldn't have a 1st round pick until 1991—would keep the pressure on other clubs. But we must stay vigilant.

So the deal got done ahead of training camp and '87 was saved. 

Morenov would extend an invitation to Miami and St. Louis to play in Moscow in July '88 in something dubbed "The Friendship Bowl." Mouse Davis, out of work since the Denver Gold folded in '85, would appear in a Vremya piece with the Premier watching members of the Red Army throwing rugby balls and running with logs on their backs. 

The future still looked uncertain geopolitically; the Evil Empire talk wasn't sticking when butter ships arrived from Leningrad. Dead cops and state agents everywhere but there were still monsters out there: inequality still ramped, people on the streets, Newports out of the backs of white vans, HMOs, The Great Offshoring, and so on. A black swan would float into the lake in October, or that's what they wanted you think; just an aberration, don't worry. A correction is all.

C’mon, NFL ‘87 is here.