Stories of the '87 Season 2: Black Swan

The White House and its backers tried to downplay the crash and S and L scandal in the fall of ‘87, emphasizing a vague populist sympathy--similar to Regan’s complaints of “elites”couple of years earlier in retreat from massive tax cuts and austerity that contributed to the ‘82 recession--while also trying to emphasize these new crises as a “Black Swan”--an aberration, a one time deal that appears in nature several times, but only one time. Natural, see. Don’t worry, it will correct itself. The Soviets “exploited” (they pointed out the facts and legitimate deficiencies of the system--ed.) the moment in their media and propaganda both internally and past the curtain--their own rapid “reconstruction” under Morenov gave this critique some teeth--something that wasn’t there even in ‘82, as the Soviet state appeared to be unravelling. Liberals were still rolling out technocratic solutions, but the working class and rabble trapped in its big tent finally had an example--a handsome and articulate, TV-friendly Premier--of possible alternative. Things were getting weird. 

As this is a football annal, we will return to our sacred game, also affected and weird. The Sullivan family’s affront to Puritan values of thrift and diligence--”he was Irish afterall” scowled the gentry--created a near crisis of legitimacy for the league. Allegations emerged that Tip O’Neill and Governor Dukakis secretly offered zero-rate loans to prop up the Patriots, who nearly collapsed because scion Chuck put the stadium up for collateral as part of an investment in the Jackson 5’s victory tour; this, in combination with the Black Swan’s landing into the pond, created the crisis. The Sullivan family folly looked like ”USFL Mickey Mouse Shit,” according to Al Davis at an emergency meeting after Week 10. The league prevented Sullivan from offering 50% of the club via stock--they didn’t want another Cardinals “Commune” situation--and appeals to Michael Jackson to buy the club or invest went on deaf ears. The government fiasco would sideline Governor Mike in the ‘88 Democratic Primaries, but Tip brushed it off like he brushed everything off. Whitey Bulger was more a Bruins fan and didn’t have the liquidity to help out. The Pats trucked through a disastrous ‘87, finishing 6-10, though they did get hot at the end there, with a blowout of Miami on Monday Night. 

The Patriots’ saviors came in the form of a dour New Hampshire family, the Dillboys. Their history, like everyone else in this rotted principality, stemmed from the siding with Capital during the English Civil War. The surname dated back to the early 17th century of herb farmers and hawkers; despite dire straits, John Dillboy served admirably in Cromwell’s New Model Army and briefly sided with The Levellers at the end of the conflict, refusing to serve in the conquest of Ireland. John’s third son, Solomon, sold papa out, served, and flipped a bunch of worthless land guarantees to New Model Army soldiers to accumulate a small fortune and estate in the Londonderry; Solomon’s son, Patience, came to the New World with a letter from the Crown to manage and produce lumber in New Hampshire colony after the Restoration (an amusing exploration of the family will find that many Dillboy men were often kidnapped by tribes for ransom, only to have their villages reject the ransoms, leading to their deaths; problem was, the damn family made too many of them--ed.). 

Robert Dillboy the Younger, who liked going by Robbie, was much more excited about the acquisition than his father, Robert Dillboy the Elder. Their fortune amassed over 326 years, the Elder further secured and strengthened it in the late 70s, purchasing wasting away “estates” and “land” from neighbors in Rye and other seacoast towns for slightly more than what a Jimmy Carter-era nature preserve government program was offering; Elder kept the land “productive” by building rental cottages and apartments, drawing off the wide array of “outsiders” being employed by the Military Industrial Complex at Pease Air National Guard Base and the nearby Portsmouth docks.

The $85 million purchase included the club, land, and Sullivan stadium. That it was revenue-generating real estate was the only reason Elder cleared Younger’s proposition (the Younger also pitched this culturally: it was a good PR move for a family everyone held in great disdain; football provided a sort of social bond and unity that cut across the classes they were exploiting and helped reinforce social order the clan helped create--ed.); the Elder was a typical, colorless man who liked only representational art and little bits of European medieval history. He yearned for feudalism and intellectual pursuit. He hated sports because of the grotesque display of the body and admiration of the physical world, but he was also attracted to its violence, its clear settlement of conflict. He knew there had to be some admiration for the material if he were to pursue his interests. He greatly admired the productive elements of Fordism but hated the labor. He was intrigued by robots in this sense. He wanted his feet in both worlds.

The Younger loved football--he never got to play; his mother supported his athletic pursuits but she died in a suspicious drowning in a bay when he was twelve. His paternal Grandfather still nurtured his love of the sport, but now mostly through observation of it; they attended games during the club's AFL years, even making it to San Diego in '63 for the club's title loss--Pappy's family was also an ancient New England one but more modern, holding business interests in copper mining and semiconductor production. Robbie Plunkett’s first game and never forgave them for giving up on him, witnessed Jack Tatum’s hit on Darryl Stingley, and wept after the call against Sugarbear Hamilton that wrecked '76. He deeply hated the Raiders, but also admired them--particularly Al Davis. He wished the Pats could throw off the yoke of History and just get with the new times.

Pappy's mysterious and tragic death in 1980--he fell off his yacht and drowned in the same bay, at least according to the police report--led him directly into the Dillboy business and a return to Head of Cromwell, the family's old estate (it was called Head of Cromwell because a bronze bust of the Protectorate was placed low enough on the front door frame that visitors had to bow to him--the bust came from Cotton Dillboy’s revolutionary-era tavern in Boston; the Elder questioned his ancestor’s support of republicanism, but he also greatly admired Cotton’s strength--ed.). His mother's family's estate--dating back even further than the Dillboy's--burned to the ground in a mysterious fire a week after Pappy's drowning. The Elder memorialized the loss by building several rental cottages on the same soil and christening it Monck Gardens, after the family name. These many personal travails led the Younger to bury himself in the Pats again--he secretly taped and watched games on mute in the parlor room, and, while the Elder was out on his daily tours of local estate auctions, would have the sports talk on the radio, or pursue BircherSports' Prodigy page in between taking and making calls, depositing rent checks, etc. It was in BircherSports' "forum" that he learned about the club's drama before it hit the press.

They kept the Sullivan name on the stadium partly because the Elder didn’t want their name associated. The Younger’s first visit to the club came before their Week 12 massacre at the hands of the Eagles, 49-21--the first of five straight wins for Buddy’s boys. He seethed with jealousy at Cunningham’s dominating performance--the brother of Sam should be in a Pats uni--but also admired Flutie’s attempt at a late comeback. They should’ve been a Super Bowl team at some point in the ‘80s, he thought, even if they would’ve been buried in the title game. He promised “new things” for the club in the locker room post-game. “A positive sea change.” The Younger would let the club trudge along; he nearly fired Raymong Barry after Week 14 but the club’s recovery in the last two weeks--including that 42-7 blowout of Miami on Monday night--kept him from totally dismantling the team. 

The Elder wouldn’t visit the club, preferring to just pour over the books. He decided his son would run the club, make decisions. Even with the “correction,” it was hard to lose money on this thing. And if they did, he could just burn the whole stadium down, sell their assets, tangible and intangible, to some business interests out West, and turn the whole thing into a 24 hour Mall with apartments attached for the workers. Consumption would serve in the place of societal harmony. 

The Black Swan also troubled waters in the USFL, nearly sinking its “best run” club, the Birmingham Stallions. Magic City Pool and Hot Tub kingpin Pappy Katsios bought the club from the limited partnership that had been running the team since the suicide of Steve Arky back in ‘85. Detail of Katsios’ own wealth seemed murky at best--Birchers painted him a refugee of the Metapolitefsi and a victim of capital C Communism; a can-do Greek Horatio Alger who built a hot tub empire within a decade. He was actually a fourth generation native of the city, whose parents built a modest fortune on the first chain of successful gyro restaurants in the state, with locations in Birmingham, Huntsville, Auburn, and Tuscaloosa. Pappy went to law school in order to help diversify his father’s business and holdings, expanding into real estate and rental properties. 

Katsios spent freely and pursued, but never managed to totally clip, college and NFL stars. The first warning sign should have come in ‘86, when he offered Bo Jackson $2 million a year for three years amidst the Auburn star's own drama with Culverhouse and Tampa Bay. While Jackson and his reps feigned what they knew--expressing a vague disappointment in not getting a deal done--it would be revealed in January of ‘87 that  Katsios earmarked $5.7 million of the total deal as zero-coupon bonds that wouldn’t mature until 2030. Katsios got media help in the spin: a savy business move and a humanitarian commitment to securing Jackon's twilight years and the far future of the family. Trading popular Joey Jones to arch-rival Memphis for $200,000 cash (delivered in a suitcase directly to him, when media spotted him, he simply shrugged it off and opened the suitcase to show it was all there) disappointed fans, and was deeply odd, but he still signed ex-Skin, Falcon, and Super Bowl champion Charlie Brown; besides, they were competitive in '86 and '87, losing heart breakers in the division finals to Baltimore and Memphis, but still competitive on the field. The $1 up-charge on humus in any sandwich--and the removal of the complimentary pepper and onion bar in every location--mildly annoyed, but was just attributed to the general maximization within the culture.

No media figure questioned how Pappy was going to afford the 5 year, $75 million deal he gave Aundray Bruce, Auburn star and top 5 NFL draft prospect, in December '87. All focus instead became on Bruce as the "missing piece" for a club that had come agonizingly close to a title game. They went 14-4 in '86 and 17-1 '87, their loss to the 9-9 Stars--led by Rick Neuheisel--all the more painful (they blew a 31-7 halftime lead, falling 34-31 in double overtime). Their defense always "wiley" and athletic but undersized. Bruce--a legitimate big man--signaled a shift in strategy, a sign of a change. Goddamn, there was no way they weren't going to do it this time.

Just a day after the signing and press conference, creditors rolled into team offices at Legion Field and seized NeXT computers, desks, and team equipment; anything that had value was liquidated. Katsios had leveraged every part of the family fiefdom to develop a hot tub superior to the Jacuzzi--market leader and a company that successfully bullied supply lines and vendors. Pappy believed in the Free Market Project, and he thought the Great American Middle Manager deserved to relax in style after a hard day in a Katsios 2525 PowerJet, faux-marble trim standard (the number designation a direct reference to the famed song; the reasoning, however, incredibly opaque to everyone but Pappy). R&D overruns and the disastrous purchase and conversion of an old John Deere plant on the city outskirts did him in; accusations that he helped smuggle weapons and old Magic City Toyota repair trucks to Chadian rebel groups fighting Qaddafi in order to finance his vision were unfounded. He wanted to be a King in his tub; he ended up being Marat.

The city government, not a bunch of Commies, seized the Stallions, only to transfer ownership to a cadre of genteel cotton traders. Among them members of the Lehman family, though from distant branches--the banking giant started in Birmingham, trading in cotton and people. The shadowy group initially honored Bruce's contract, but "disappointing" play early in the '88 season--just three sacks against the hated Showboats in the opener, just two fumble recoveries in Week 2 against Jacksonville, just one pick against San Antonio--led to a "reevaluation" and demands for renegotiation. Having been paid for just two weeks out of three, an exasperated Aundray walked off the club to prepare for the NFL draft. The Cotton Cadre would demand "proper compensation" from any team that would take him just a few weeks later. They accepted the Rooney's $100,000 offer after a swarm of locusts destroyed local cotton crops, and the Pakistani government--enjoying warming relations with Morenov and the New State--seized harvests "owned" by the three members of the ownership group.

Katsios would survive total destitution when he bundled the hot tub business, failed factory, and family gyro chain into a package deal with an Osaka conglomerate looking to diversify their largely Steel-based holdings. The Katsios 2525 Powerjet hit the market as the Swanwhirl from Mishima and was an instant success, breaking Jacuzzi's market dominance. Pappy continued to attend Stallions games in '88, where he was warmly received by fans as "the Emperor of Birmingham"--his reign far too brief, but one pregnant with promise of what could've been. The mishandling of Bruce and his departure, combined with general cost-cutting across the board, resulted in the club's first ever losing season, a 6-12 finish in the highly-competitive Liberty Division.

***

Capitalists weren't the only ones who exploited the crash. Citing market volatility, the Black Hammers--in an overnight emergency session--merged the city and county governments and proceeded to purge both governments, offering benefit packages and reorganizing the secure greater control. It was a bold move that would've sunk them instantly, but a promise to redefine the property tax code at the county level bought them some time.

A week after the crash, Stubal Morgan, St. Louis’ mayor, took local media to an old brewery and claimed it was used as a “Black Site” to torture, brutalize, and kill citizens; the old PD picked people up off the street, hooding them and throwing them in white vans or unmarked St. Regis or Crown Vic patrol cars. It wasn’t just concerned citizens, but random folks, white folks even, who became targets. He then guided the media into the building, where he had about a dozen pudgy, mustachioed men hand-cuffed and kneeling on the ground. “The First Batch,” Morgan called them. “Just the first batch,” Morgan reiterated, found by those protected by God and the spirit that unifies communities--democratically elected citizen patrols. Auxiliary volunteer officers Neil Lomax and Vai Sikahema were on hand.

Part of Black Hammer’s success was to channel a deep hatred for Bleeding Hearts first--it is how the party even made inroads with white enclaves and gained approval from the kulaks of the wider county to seize the Grid Cards at the end of '86. To stop the Turn wasn’t going to come from the top--that’s how they got here, a bunch of bored middle and upper-middle class student "radicals" now sporting Rolexes and eating tar-tare on Wall Street; no more amelioration. Yeah, Morgan was brokering deals (remember, he only pulled off the seizure with backing from the Busch family, who got a few seats on the committee running the club--ed.), but sometimes you have to shake and bake to get to the Promised Land.