USFL '85 Notes: Nasty War

As our Armani-fitted Overlords gild America's new lead cage, we will likely forget of Grover Debs, know him only as a flat historical character from a sweeps week high-drama, not as someone of flesh and blood who navigated the maze of late 20th century American life, recognized precise moments, and then when weaker men demurred. That he came from comparatively nothing--many in the bowels of the league or club front office had some blood relation to Power--is admirable, and given our current trajectory, may aid in forming a small cult around him, one that should last generations, but which will like sink into the background as computer bulletin board systems become more and more complex. Our annals will like do the same--the pages rippled from years of humidity, the plastic liberating itself from the thin paper cover--but maybe a record will hold for some future dweeb pouring through an estate sale where this sits among Commodore 64 repair manuals and old issues of Sport. 

Debs grew up in a union household in Central Indiana. His father made a decent living on the line for Delco, but his penchant to spend weekends doing nothing but listening to country music and baseball games, drinking a case of Schlitz, and chain-smoking Benson and Hedges seemed alien to Grover, the oldest of three boys and the least macho (the youngest, Elmer, carved out a basketball career first in West Germany and now Yugoslavia, after a year being, if you believe it, Larry Bird's enforcer at Indiana State; the middle, Augustus, fits pipes and does some HVAC work in Evansville--ed.). Debs dodged the draft by joining the Air Force, where he worked as an MP guarding SR-71s in Okinawa and later Rapid City, South Dakota before being discharged, honorably, in 1972. He returned to his native land and relegated himself to the work of his father; there were three jobs, all pretty good: a company pioneering vinyl window siding; an outfit contracted by AMC to build seats for Javelins and Gremlins; and then a shop transitioning from prefab houses to utility sheds. Scions cratered all three gigs. Cutting costs, cutting wages, trying to up profits in the midst, and aftermath, of OPEC and expensive petroleum products. The first two graduated from DePauw and Wabash and thought of themselves as part of a benevolent yeoman tradition before Global Capital and consolidation cut their throats (well, they were fine, actually, it was just men like Debswho got dumped into shallow graves--ed.). The third seemed worse in his mincing and gestures to humanity: a Yale grad and Wolf’s Head member who wanted to be a poet; his failure less supply chains as it was plowing earnings into funding his comic opera about Charles George Gordon. As creditors wheeled out machinery, the lad recited "Sailing to Byzantium." 

Grover used his G.I. Bill and enrolled at Ball State, getting a degree in Soviet Studies--”they were the enemy,” he told a confidant, “at least I thought so”--and went to Library school for a year before dropping out. After failing a language test with the CIA--his Russian was good but stilted, taught by the weepy son of a Russian White Colonel--he bandied about until falling into a position curating the miniscule tape library at the USFL offices in New York in the fall of '83. Debs quickly rose through the ranks thanks to a knack for obtaining secrets. His apparently blank but soft face made everyone open up to him naturally; he’d trade rumors on smoke breaks initially out of no utility--he reveled in cracked veneers and sometimes articulating his own foibles. He came to love most of the people around him, and he came to enjoy the institution they were trying to build up: for a man so singular, he admired groups and collective goals. His dad was a baseball guy in a basketball state. He hated jocks but he liked football players: part of this was because the boys who played football in Indiana were so bad at it that they carried the demeanors of down-on-their-luck theatre folk rather than plaster, spotless-minded adoniouses. This saw him rise to be a sort of lieutenant/hatchetman for Chet Simmons, picking up info and penning reports. Simmons was a big idea man, not a reader, so many of the reports got slipped to Tampa Bay owners John Bassett and Burt Reynolds: two men committed to The Spring Project and weary of Trump.

Grover Debs felt there were only three types of people: talkers, thinkers, and the idiots smart enough to do neither, who faked a silent sereness to get through life. There was a fourth category--talkers and thinkers--but only four men ever reflected qualified: Oliver Cromwell, John Brown, Napoleon, and V.I. Lenin (a caveat: in his Hustler interview that went to print just ahead of our publication, the new Commish clarified that the Western World only produced four of these--there were dozens, if not hundreds, in the Eastern World and Africa: Mao, Akira Kurosawa, Thomas Sankara, Julius Nyerere, and Colonel Gaddafi among the recent generations; he also clarified that “action” is merely an outgrowth of talking and thinking together; one must have both--ed.). 

He found Trump funny at times--he admired that at least the guy could get you moving on big ideas, no matter how stupid they were--but he also saw him as a bully and one completely distructive. While he sided with the spring faction in ‘84, Grover did see that some sort of conflict had to happen. Clipping guys like Trump did in the face of the Victorian “gentlemen” deals of prudence was about the only way for the league to survive--the NFL was populated by sticky-fingered scions, fuck them, they needed to be popped in the mouth, but you also needed talent eventually or "this shit turns minor league." Where he diverted from Donald was in the goal. You can talk fast and skim from the top--you need people like that in any organization or movement, that's why angels don't make it--but it should be one prong of the trident. You need faith and will to power. 

Debss soft face even worked on Trump. At a cocktail party that doubled as an ‘84 kick-off celebration and a benefit for veterans of the Rhodesian Bush War, Donald divulged. Grover learned, before anyone else, of the secret meeting with Rozelle and the plot to torpedo the league and barge into the NFL.  Even the exact location of a new Manhattan stadium Trump envisioned for the NFL Generals: shallow graves be damned. "Grover, you see? This is all small potatoes. We need to get the big potatoes. I have been talking to the Russet people; they said you can't have a great sustenance on Yukons. Do you want to eat Yukons all your life, Grover? They're the dogs of potatoes." 

The same shithead Debs had been beholden to three times previously: wrecking a nice gig for some fantasy. He went off the reservation by late March, last seen at the New York Metropolitan Library checking out maritime maps of the Connecticut Gold Coast, specifically the Thimble Islands--the same area Trump and Eddie Einhorn were last spotted on Tuesday, April 23, before their rented yacht, Son of an Icarus, disappeared after an afternoon parked at Jane Pauley and Garry Trudeau’s island home. 

But we all know that already. And we all know what quickly transpired: Trump's absence sobered everybody up, Grover's return May 7 with $253 million in TV deals from ABC, ESPN, and burgeoning regional cable networks kiboshed all fall talk. The owners sidelined Simmons to an ambassador sort of post, taking all the interviews and reading off index cards--the former TV guy couldn't get a major network to commit, this small man always in Camel-stenched cardigans pulled it off.

(Lost in all of this is the end of J. William Oldenburg, LA Express owner and hisser, whom Simmons brought into the fold thinking he was worth a $100 million, who signed Steve Young to a $40 million deal, along with about 20 NFL draft prospects--all of it fake, all of it cash extracted from Savings and Loans outfits he bought or raided. 

On June 3rd, some dock workers in San Pedro found Oldenburg's hands and loose teeth in a whirlpool at low tide--federal investigators would blame the mob and close the case with no follow-up. The death helped the league discharge the club's debts, making them more appealing as an investment. The executor of the estate, who helped with the write-offs, was an ambulance chaser in Van Nuys who attended Ball State with Debs; they used to drink at the same bar--an early morning to lunch joint for the 3rd shift Delco battery guys. The lawyer sort of looked and sounded like Doug Henning if the magician spent all night talking about Gengis Khan's contributions to the environment--”fella figured it out, killing 20% of the world”--or the actual tragedy of the Battle of Vienna. Grover admired his deep and peculiar military knowledge and the large battle fields he constructed in his house--inherited--out of old astroturf. Vienna was among the models contained. He went to Pepperdine to study intellectual property law but was cast-out after losing his arm from lead poisoning--he had a habit of chewing on his figures, most notably his Mustafa Pasha--and finished his degree at Loyola Marymount. Debs found him at his West Hollywood office on June 5th according to reports. The lawyer ran his hook over the TV deal and Oldenburg’s estate paperwork before certifying the deal. 

The editor of Grids and Strife, a local newsletter devoted to the USFL, would report seeing J. William at a cafe in Piccadilly the same weekend as the Stars-Bandits expansion game in London, but there was no further investigation.--ed.).

The League was mostly wait-and-see ahead of '84, even though Fouts, Riggins, and Thompson all broke their contracts, but after Trump's secret meeting with Rozell, talk of shifting to fall, and late paychecks, the sharks started to circle.

Early NFL action was fairly effective. Ken Lacy left in training camp, Craig James, Jim Fahnhorst, Glenn Carano, Marcus Marek, Frank Minniefield, and Kevin Mack were among those signing offer sheets in the early part of the season.

New positive material conditions heading into '85, and the fact Rozell was herding little piglets, led to the strategy to raid draft prospects and clip young guys. As discussed in detail, teams took a two-pronged approach, either offering cash to '84 League draftees to sit out the fall and commit to Spring, or finding exploits in NFL contracts--particularly the "chained" deals that offered no security from year-to-year.

It would be a large commitment of capital, but not as much as going after veterans or established stars, though a couple clubs still did so. The time was to find stable ground and pour cornerstones (the burbling up and eventual formation of a player's union on July 22, 1984 certainly informed the strategy--the need to usher in young talent with the promise of better pay helped keep the new USFLPA fairly weak ahead of any possible CBA--ed.). 

While the '84 season didn't completely end the way the league hoped, it did provide another exciting set of playoffs. Doug Williams led an 8-10 Oklahoma Outlaws to the Conference Semi-Final round, narrowly losing to Denver 45-44. A week later, the Gold--facing down Dan Fouts and the Wranglers--played a tight one. Trailing 32-24, Arizona’s Ed Smith would separate Prince McJunkins shoulder, recover a fumble and return it to cut the lead to a single point; Jim Hart, the 18-year NFL vet, would be picked on his first pass; Bruce Laird would take it back, 38-32. Hart would drive down and connect with Leonard Harris as time expired, to send the Gold to the title game. ABC pushed the championship game as a “Road to Redemption” for Hart and New Orleans’ quarterback Jack Thompson. The Breakers won a shootout, 42-38, with Thompson hitting ex-Eagle Charlie Smith for the game winner. ESPN’s Paul Maguire compared watching the contest--played in thick, hot, ugly-wet conditions at Tampa Stadium--to Sam Peckinpah’s Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia: a strange tortuous experience that demanded one’s attention, made one question the art form that allowed for its germination (actual quote: “You know, in 1981 I was in my hotel In Montreal preparing for the Grey Cup the next day and the CBC had that Jason Robards--no, Warren Oates--movie on, Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia. Just a nightmare, but so compelling you couldn’t turn away. This was wonderful, horrible game and I mean that as the highest compliment.”--ed.). While they finished second that Sunday night to a CBS rebroadcast of both parts of May’s  Magnum P.I. season finale,  “Did You See the Sunrise?”, it still pulled a 7.0, good for second.  

The only one now legitimately worried was Pete Rozelle. He had seen this before from his brief PR work for the CIA: this flim-flam organization just cut out two tumors on their own. He envied the resolve, wondered if it would work with Bill Bidwell and John Meacom Jr. 

What do, what to do. 

Off-Season Observations and Transactions: Two Leagues, One Country 

Trump's last personnel move before the vanishing was the acquisition of '84 Dallas 4th round pick Steve DeOssie. The move partly due to his sonorous last name --"DeeAUSSIE"-- and partly out of desire for a young, handsome, strawberry blond to appeal to the Catholic enclaves in Queens, Staten Island, and Westchester County. DeOssie's struggles in training camp and tensions with Tom Landry--he mocked the hat after double sprints--may have contributed to the first covert interleague transaction in history. Donald acquired the Boston College star for $200,000 and the access to one of his bronze artisans--the Cowboys’ owner wanted a tacky oil derrick installed in the atrium of his offices. Bright offered to throw in Ed "Too Tall" Jones for an additional $300,000, but Trump declined. "Forget it, he's too tall. ‘I ask people hey why the nickname?’ And they reply 'Have you looked at him? he's far too tall.' And you know what? They were right. I don't want to deal with that mess."

Stan Chera, master of the local Republican Party machine and a mentor to Don, would come on as a senior partner for the Generals after the mogul's now assumed martyrdom. Ivana didn't want to deal with the club, but found all her liquidity was tied to it, leading her to dump control to someone who could keep passive income flowing. Stan saw a use--there was potential cash in Springball--but he also loved the idea of being a professional football owner. He planned to slash payroll and run a tight ship, but after Giants owner Wellington Mara compared him to Walt Disney running a Mickey Mouse operation at the weekly Blood Ritual of the Old Ones at a Manhattan Bathhouse, Chera decided to escalate Trump's war, albeit from a better position. An ailing but bored Roy Cohn helped press LT, and used contacts to connect with Tuna--the Generals were willing to offer near total control of the operation. The miserly Mara finally opened the purse strings, ceding further personnel decisions to Parcells--much to the ire of GM George Young--while finally restructuring LT's deal, now worth $2.6 million, not including bonuses. 

With Trump presumed dead, Taylor tried to get out of the personal services contract he had signed in late '83; Cohn and Chera would have none of that, plucking a Dartmouth adjunct who taught the Introduction to Marx courses to pose as Trump with Ivana for "mysterious" photographs of the lost Don up in rural New Hampshire.

The sucker, Gary, looked like Trump and was perpetually broke.  (this would lead to a brief love affair as the poor man displayed the humility, empathy, and humor Ivana--he also helped her better understand the “market socialism” of Tito as an alternative to Stalinism--it was a passion she never knew she wanted, creating a so-called "Kagemusha Situation." After the LT affair, she would smuggle Gary to Yugoslavia; disappointed by factualism, he would accept a position as an English translator at the Marx-Engels Institute in Moscow (per reports in the Trotskyist football tabloid, GridLines--ed.).

Hoping to “convince” LT to jump, Roy and Stan used an iron fist when one should’ve used a soft hand: if Taylor was unwilling to jump his Giants contract or maintain the “personal services” deal, Cohn would use his “spider network” to amplify and spread further rumors about Taylor’s private life. Parcells would push Mara to broker a deal. The old man’s traditional “option chained” contracts let Ali Haji Sheik and Carl Banks jump to Michigan.

It led to the second interleague trade in history: Parcells refused to budge on Gary Reasons, but offered Lionel Emmanuel, a promising rookie receiver who had just come back from Tokyo after talking to The Chestnut Group, who held his USFL rights. In exchange for buying out LT’s deal, the Giants would match the Express’ offer, pay off LA for his rights, and report to the Post that “Chera’s machinations did it again." In addition to Emmanuel, Stan would make two big moves elsewhere, plucking Hog Mark May and giving Heisman winner Doug Flutie $7 million over 6 years. He would also trade for Ron Reeves and got Burt Reynolds to help with an RNC fundraiser by offering territorial rights for Steve Calabria. The Generals also added Colgate star Eugene Robinson, who went under the radar of NFL scouts. The Generals sold out their season tickets for ‘85. The New York Times credited a rare outpouring of genuine love and compassion for the widow Trump from pizza shop and pool and patio supply owners, street-sweeper part dealers, dog breeder liquidation outlet regional managers, IBM PC Jr. repair specialists, and golf shoe cobblers: all men, like Donald, living out their dreams. Parcells would hope Stacy Robinson could live up to expectations. 

***

Edward DeBartalo Sr. had a foot in both leagues. The Old Cabal forced his son out of San Fran in a coup in October '84 in the midst of the Niners' 15-1 run. How this happened remains opaque, the only public detail revealing the end: Ed Jr. sitting behind his Brazilian Elm desk with a gold lugar pointed at Bill Walsh. The DeBartalos ended up with $25 million. Rozelle installed a distant nephew installed backed by a few Arikaaners with fortunes in emerald and copper mining; the rationale of three oblong-headed gingers getting involved in America's game is difficult to deduce. 

The Italian Stallion would exact some revenge in January ‘85, when he stole top five draft talents Chris Doleman and Bill Fralic. Fralic, suspicious of the league and its esoteric contract structures, saw the Light when Pittsburgh's 10 year, $9 million offer actually brokedown over the decade and included a $400,000 bonus. Doleman took a cash-rich five-year deal that included stock in The Hills retail chain. DeBartalo went even further, signing rookies Ron Wolfley and Willie Drewery, as well as successfully picking off '84 NFL rookies Dwight Coleman, Tony Paige, and--importantly--Native Son Tom Flynn, who was coming off a 10 pick season for Green Bay (all had signed chained contracts with the Monolith, explained below--ed.). Flynn grew tired of negotiations with Bart Starr, who walked into every meeting with his pockets pulled out, a cutesy gesture that delighted cardboard cutouts Len Berman and Brent Musberger, but few others. All told, DeBartalo shelled out $17 million to turn his new team into a winner (oddly, the only Niner he landed was backup tight-end John Frank--ed.). 

The Rooneys would unsuccessfully try to block the Purple and Orange from 3 Rivers, going so far as quadrupling rent. Ed pulled the strings again, getting the municipal government involved--the Osaka Steel Conglomerate that had bought up all those dead mills in a 100+ mile radius were prepared to open regional offices in the Steel City. DeBartalo threatened to sell them much cheaper property in Mansfield, Ohio to set up shop. Art bulked and Edward reminded him his starting quarterback was Mark Malone. Capital crushes everything.

***

DeBartolo worked his Japanese connections to save the Los Angeles Express, the club finding an owner in the form of The Chestnut Group, a zaibatsu run by a man known only as Yamada-Sama, an honorific given exclusively to old, enlightened buddhist monks. The chain smoker developed an affinity for the game way back in '46, when his American prison guards taught him the rules (he was one of the Imperial Army Officers actually investigated and tried by the US; he "cut his teeth" in Manchukuo and was sold out by his commanding officer--ed.). He spent a year in prison reading about Red Grange and checking box scores in Stars and Stripes. He sort of resembled Al Davis but with 1,000 times the wealth. Attempts by Chestnut Group to also purchase Memorial Coliseum were blunted by Reagannites--fine to own a team in a weird league, but to own an American Cultural Palace was a whole other thing. Chestnut Group instead shifted focus on an ambitious, Thank You Project for beating back the Communists post-war: a complete reconstruction of the old Wrigley Field--one-time home of the Los Angeles Angels of the Pacific Coast League--slightly augmented for the Express and, if willing, Al's Raiders.

***

The Outlaws signed '84 2nd round selections Thomas Benson and Scott Case. They were "sweet spot" signings, coming two weeks after the NFL draft and before the Chargers and Falcons could put together piddly deals: Case signed for 5 years, $1.2 million, Benson 5 years, $1 million. Both got cash bonuses for fall--their families depended on those paychecks--of $150,000 and $200,000 respectively. On his weekly USFL show on SportsChannel, a young mustachioed talking-head named Keith Olberman--he resembled a Perils of Pauline villain, with a long lip worm and the complexion of F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu--would correct initial reports: the pair of Sooners were not signed by the club but rather a local group of energy traders and televangelist Oral Roberts. The cabal wished to produce an olive branch to the league, ahead of final approval to purchase the team from A.A. Tannanbaum and keep them in Tulsa. The sale cleared ahead of Week 15 of the '84 season and included a commitment to the University of Tulsa to renovate Skelly Stadium in exchange for a discounted lease. The Soviet Consulate in Dallas donated a Cosmo Green field (see our '84 notes--ed.). Reports that "Tulsa Football Inc." were secretly funded by the Bin Laden Group, a Saudi construction firm, were quickly dismissed. It still left Birchers with the question: Why would the Reds donate a field to their enemies? Why would anyone fail to consider personal profit?

***

New Orleans was the surprise success, defeating Denver in a dramatic title game, 42-38, and casting the Saints out of Paradise. Tom Benson, initially lined up as a possible buyer of the Black and Gold bailed--the Breakers success cited as the chief reason. Rozell--trying to keep up a positive front--quietly blocked a possible sale and relocation to either Jacksonville or Phoenix, at least for now. The Breakers’ rookie backfield of Marcus Dupree, Buford Jordan, and Mark Schellen became known as "The Holy Trinity" by the Archbishop of New Orleans; Johnny Meads instilled terror through the regular season and playoffs, swatting passes when he wasn't putting guys in comas. 

The resurrection of "The Throwin' Samoan," Jack Thompson, became Keith Jackson's favorite narrative arc:  the quarterback looking cool and collected for the first time since his days at Washington State. The Breakers strong showing, and those iconic helmets, struck legitimate fear into the League and The 'Aints, especially after long-time season ticket holders started flipping (the large Catholic fanbase shifted after the Archbishop's embrace of the club; he considered Dupree divine and presented by God--when the club had difficulty covering some of his sizeable bonuses in August, collections were taken up among the Cardinals--ed.). The off-season, then, had a tinge of doom in that very Catholic way. One strange and sad move was Thompson. The league's second-lowest paid starting quarterback, he hoped to renegotiate with New Orleans only to be blunted; an offer to payback $150,000 to get out of his deal was met with silence--he went ahead and signed with a desperate Paul Brown to return to Cincy in October of '84. The Breakers would acquire LSU legend Alan Risher in a trade with Arizona and sign jettisoned veteran Matt Robinson. Risher would find a compliment in rookie and fellow Tiger Eric Martin, who signed his deal after nearly being blinded by the glare of Bum Phillips' belt buckle during a pro-day interview.

March '85 would see a "shadow trade," between the Patriots and Breakers, with the Archbishop of Boston and Archbishop of New Orleans spinning a complex, one-for-one deal between Toby Williams and Daryl Wilkerson, the pair of defensive ends both sitting out; neither knew they were "traded" only that operatives--loyal lay priests saying they were reps from the prospected clubs--approached them individually with the offers they were requesting. Recently converted Breakers owner Joseph Canizaro complied quickly; Billy Sullivan was initially hesitant, he thought Wilkerson's offer was too much (Whitey filled in the gap; strangely enough, head coach Raymond Berry would end up cutting Wilkerson in October; he’d find his way back to the USFL, signing with Arizona in time for ‘85--ed.). The Nasty War bumped Lance Smith into a sure-fire first rounder, but when he learned it would likely be the Bengals, Cards, or Bucs, he called back Father Metairie--a priest-professor at Loyola (see our ‘84 notes--ed.) who had brought him a bonus-laden offer in January.

***

Cash problems in San Antonio creeped up near the end of '84--Neuhesiel confirmed stories of players racing to the bank on Fridays to cash checks, faking injuries to prevent getting cut, lights being shut off during a National game not due to a power outage but rather unpaid bills. Earl Campbell, the only one getting his green, and--out of a commitment to his guys--signed everyone’s  Week 18 paychecks. 

Not wanting to return to the League, where he would have to play for Bum and the Saints who traded for his rights, Campbell's financial advisor made a remarkable offer: The Tyler Rose would cede $1.6 million of his '85 salary for a quarter of club equity. The deal would cover three-fourths of payroll for the year and give Earl, and possibly players, a little more say in decisions. Desperate owner Clinton Manges seriously considered the offer until a mysterious Russian named Chip Kornilov offered to buy the club for $20 million. 

Texans got a crash course in the Russian Civil War: locals inworried about Soviet infiltration into The Hollowed Institution, until the Soviet Consulate in Houston intervened, threatening to rip out the Cosmo Green field and cancel proposed "technology exchanges" and renovations at Alamo Stadium if the deal was concluded. Chip--who grew up in England--was a direct descendent of Lavr, the White Army General who nearly seized power ahead of the October Revolution. Newly emergent General Secretary Morenov would explain that this new Kornilov would be using stolen cash from the state to make the purchase, effectively making the club's new owners the USSR. Not wanting to cause an international incident, San Antonio's municipal government intervened and seized the club in January.The Soviet turf and renovations were too popular to lose.Texas Rangers protected the stadium, worried of a Red Dawn like invasion from Cuban Commandos. The city sided with Soviets! Blared Birchers in their monthly newsletter. Those on the American Left and Labor hoping for a publicly-owned club would be disappointed: the ownership would just be the cabal who ran the city: 3rd generation Ranchers, retired Air Force Generals and intelligence officers, energy traders, and former Spurs owner Red McCombs. The unfolding events rattled USFL owners until the final expansion fee payments were delivered as a lump sum on February 13th, an early Valentine’s Day gift.  

Transactions Notes: 

• Longtime Jet Darrol Ray's arrival to Outlaws training camp among the forests of Tahlequah, capital of Cherokee Nation, puzzled the new owners and head coach Woody Widenhofer. When asked why a big city talent like him was there, Ray pulled out a signed contract for ‘85, certified by Tannenbaum on December, 24, 1983. Terms of the deal were favorable. Oral saw it as divine intervention: '84 star rookie Kelvin Middleton jumped to the Steelers, where Rooney promised him cash to "sit out spring" (oddly, he, Art Modell, and Alex Spanos were the only NFL owners willing to implement this strategy--that's how the Browns landed Minnifield and Mack and the Chargers signed Trumaine Johnson--ed.). 

• Oakland, another "tight ship" did make a couple flourishes--Eason, Rivera, and Dokie as mentioned below, but also Derek Holloway, who was in an option year with Michigan; Oakland offered less, but all of it was guaranteed, lacking the algorithmic nature of his Michigan deal (Anthony Carter's presence alone probably cost him $275,000 over the last two years--ed.). Rookies Reggie Langhorne and Damone Johnson also signed after still meeting skepticism from NFL scouts despite a shrinking draft pool. 

• If Ditka's endless gum chomping wasn't enough, the Little Wellington--he offered no liberation, just heirachical torture--spent all of rookie two-a-days mistakingly referring to 2nd rounder Ron Rivera as "Geraldo." Oakland--needing defensive help heading into '85--made an unusually generous offer of $1.4 million over five.

• Oakland also inked Dokie Williams and Bo Eason in late July '84. The Invaders accomplished these moves by offering immediate cash to sit out the fall; Dokie had a promising rookie season on special teams with the Super Bowl champion Raiders, but after requesting a renegotiation, Al briefly placed him on the waiver wire, angering team operatives. A scout who had done work for the Invaders signed Williams herself (she was an FBI field agent, whose father played for San Francisco of the AAFC; she grew tired of honeypot investigations and used her mix of fed training and intuitive knowledge of the game--picking it up through the lived experience of listening to her father babble on and chew out and fawn over players--to freelance as a scout; the Invaders paid her the best; scouting the one thing they paid for, though that seemed to be changing--ed.). Bud Adams cited Opec and Soviet Oil production for why he couldn't offer more to 2nd round pick Bo Eason--a move that would come back to bite the stingy owner in the Spring.

• It was harder finding an alternative to steady Freddy Basana. Potential deals for Mike Kelly and Randy Wright's rights fell apart partly because of a lack of assets. Neil Lomax wanted to play for them, but his salary demands were roughly a quarter of current payroll. Damon Allen had one thing going for him in the eyes of scouts--he was Marcus' brother--but seemingly little else. The Express giving up his rights for a 22nd rounder disappointed Yamada-Sama, a big advocate of bloodline, but they already had a much more expensive and coherent scrambler. The Invaders easily beat Allen's only offer--the rainbow money of Edmonton. Damon sometimes wondered if getting pancaked into the A's infield was worth it, but Edmonton got snow in September, everyone North had Matt Dunigan fever, and maybe Jesse and Lyndon LaRouche were right and the Queen was the world's biggest drug lord.

• For all his flamboyance, Jim Irsay could get as tight-fisted as his father Bob. When '83 defensive rookie of the year Vernon Maxwell got short-changed on bonuses ahead of the Colts’ move to Indy--Irsay the Younger refused to credit a rewarded half sack of Don Strock, going so far as to harass Steve Sabol for any and all alternate angles--Big V fled back "home" to Phoenix, taking a 3 year, $1.5 million deal from the Wranglers (as noted below, Maxwell's Colts contract was a chain of one year deals--ed.). The "betrayal" made Jim rethink his approach and attempt to carve out a different legacy from his father. 

• Maxwell wasn't the only score. With Trumaine Johnson expressing dissatisfaction over his deal--and revelations he was meeting with Alex Spanos of the Chargers in secret, part of a larger conspiracy to bring Fouts back--the Wranglers further formalized '85 offseason plans by snagging local late rounders Pete Mandley and Ron Brown. Arizona landed Brown by sending a co-ed to psst-psst to the Olympian and ex-Sun Devil through a chain-linked fence at the Rams' facility in Anaheim. John Robinson flung his hat down in disgust; it landed like a lawn dart, leading Jackie Slater to repeat to Coach that he needed to lay off the starch.

• Eric Dickerson's and Ronnie Lott's journeys to the desert to join Steely Dan--who opted in for a further three years after a public gripe by Spanos over "correct compensation”--excited everyone but ABC, who was worried about sending Keith Jackson and Lynn Swann into the desert heat.  Mr. Benny signed on the Friday after the Rams' Wild Card loss to the Giants. Breaking the NFL single-season rushing record got him a congratulatory cake and a $500 landscaping bill from the Angels, forwarded over from Georgia Frontiere. The club kept delaying promised contract negotiations, so when George Allen called with a 7-year, $24 million offer, Dickerson and his team inked, despite it's Voynich-level indecipherability, a key trait in an USFL deal. It was really worth half the splashed-about number--the other 12 mil. a series of insurance policies and bearer bonds--but he was still guaranteed $3 million for '85 and no less than $700,000 a year the rest of the way. Playing with Dan in a more offensively open league sweetened the deal. 

• The South African cartel who took control of the Niners were flabbergasted when Ronnie Lott and his agent requested at least $800,000 a year. "Do they all get to ask questions like that?" chirped the one who owned the Emerald Mines. "Quite uncouth" hissed the Copper owner. Lott signed the Tuesday after Super Bowl XIX--3 years, $4 million, $1.3 million in annuities. He declined an offer from Mommar Gaddafi to send his Amazonian bodyguards in the event his "former masters slipped out their asps." Always be weary of South Africans (that they found the copper mine owner mixed in with wood chips in Burkina Faso seems unrelated--ed.). 

• Dickeron's and Lott's jump to Arizona, the presence of Fouts as a possible mentor, and $150,000 a year over three years prompted Randall Cunningham to jump too, leaving just Steve Bono in the draft. Allen got Randall an additional $76,000 after seeing him punt.

• Maxwell’s departure gave Jim itches and cold sweats through a disappointing ‘84 for the Colts--yeah the rubes in Indianapolis packed into the dome like sardines, but the team wasn’t good and much of the rest of the football world hated them. Rozell gave the front offices of the top ten clearance to try to close deals early to stave off USFL competition--Irsay was one of the few to take them up on it, offering Duane Bickett $5 million over six years. With Childress, Fralic, and Doleman off the board and Houston picking at three, Bud Adams catterwalled to anyone who would listen to him. The amount of Irsay’s offer was “too much” for the Oilers to afford; what if Bud wanted to take Duane only to find him holding out. Irsay nearly offered Chris Henton and number five to Atlanta, but Kobayashi-Sama and The Chestnut Group swooped in, landing the USC hulk for 5 years, $7 million and full access to a three bedroom apartment--further valued at $2.8 million and once owned by Japanese baseball legend Sadahara Oh--in Tokyo’s wild Roppongi District. Irsay would settle on Jack Del Rio for less and would use the remaining cash earmarked for Bickett to stave off Chera and the Generals in their negotiations with George Wonsley.

• The Bickett signing wouldn’t be the Express' only headline grabber but Kobayashi-Sama and The Chestnut Group did attempt to coax a 37-year-old OJ Simpson out of retirement. Promising advances in hip and knee surgery in Japan--which extended the careers of several Ozeki--was presented to The Legend, as well as a compensation package of $4.9 million for '85 alone. Juice expressed some interest. The deal died when he learned he had to star in a series of domestic ads for Yakult's yogurt products. Simpson was a Hokkaido Dairy Farmers Co-operative man through and through.

• Houston’s signing of Ray Childress for 4 years, $3 million in late January escalated the Nasty War and might have cost-newly-relocated Baltimore Bruce Smith. The Stars were cash strapped--the Phillies and Eagles stiffed them their deposit on the Vet for ‘85--and while the Orioles minority stake guaranteed them modest rent and access to Memorial Stadium, The House That Weaver Built weren’t interested in kicking in additional cash. While Bruce’s deal with the Bills was less than Ray’s--4 years, $2.6 million--it was at least in The League and guaranteed him the immortality of being the number one overall pick. The Stars found themselves largely shutout of extra-league signings, instead focusing on intraleague transactions and minor tweeks; they did swing a sign-and-trade with Pittsburgh, sending Mike Johnson to the Maulers for the rights to Troy Benson. Jim Mora was suspicious.

• As one of the league's poorer clubs, the Outlaws focused on homegrown talent to appeal to their base come January '85. J.C. Watts, who carved out a solid career in Canada, expressed interest in '84, ahead of the Williams signing, and after another year ploinking and scrambling with a weak Ottawa team, he took a $225,000 offer to back up Doug Williams. Rick Johnson--the rookie who sparked a two game win streak and helped the Outlaws in the back end--had signed with Frontiere and the Rams in December '84 to appease Dickerson. It of course had not; Johnson would sit behind Dieter Brock and Steve Bartkowski the following fall. Oklahoma also added three members of the excellent '83 OSU team led by Pat Jones, signing Jamie Harris, Rodney Harding, and Shawn Jones. Jones might've been the most intriguing--he showed NFL promise before a knee injury ended '84. He accepted an offer from Rice Medical Center in Houston to undergo an experimental procedure developed in Cuba as part of a US-Soviet "peaceful scientific information" exchange. Jones heavy-stepped through Daryl Goodlow like he did in college, earning a contract. 

• Birmingham honed in on the territorial and open drafts, but they were on the 12 foot end compared to Oklahoma’s 3 feet wading (who knows though, really?--ed.). Pappy Katsios, “The Gyro King of the New South,”' bought a 19.9% stake in the Stallions in September ‘84 and would find himself on the hook for at least $20 million in salary commitments over the next decade; five times his investment. The Birmingham native’s family fortune was built on Greek restaurants in every town in the SEC, or so he claimed. Pappy got top pick Jerry Rice to sign in January after promising the receiver's family franchise territory around Jackson and the Redneck Riviera from Mobile to Pensacola; he guaranteed deals to Emmanuel King, Freddie Joe Nunn, Paul Ott Carruth, and “wild-card” prospect Kevin Greene. The Genteel Families hated him. They’d point out he actually went to Samford for undergrad and then attended Harvard Business school; their organ, The Birmingham News, liked to point out his garish and vulgar populism--when he wasn’t alternating crimson-and-cream and navy-and-orange plaid suits with aviators, he could be seen in Members Only jackets of both colors. That didn’t matter much to the fanbase: to them, he was an Olive-colored Knight who sounded a little like Rodney Dangerfield and seemed committed to showing that The Ham was a “Major League” city. The acquisitions may have convinced Joe Cribbs not to buy out his original deal and go back to Buffalo. Just kidding, who would want to play in Buffalo? 

• The Detroit Free-Press gently mocked Lee Iaccoca's ascension to the Michigan Panthers' board. Chrysler's involvement in the club mirrored the behemoth Ford's ownership of the Lions. The Panthers could at least say they had Bobby Hebert, Anthony Carter, and a league title. It was a group of bean-counter/accountants in the finance department who spotted a major pressure point for the spring league during this nasty war; they passed the information onto Lee, who brought it to a preliminary board meeting in November. Many NFL clubs still used the "option-chain" approach to contracts--you didn't sign a four year deal, you signed four one year deals--and found fairly generic language that made a player effectively a free agent for a few weeks after the season. Iacoca used this information, combined with Lee's cheesy but effective cultural portrayal of Caesar-in-Gaul, to help pick off suitable players. He resembled an Orthodox Saint in local TV cameras (high key lighting and Sony Beta cameras--ed.) when he introduced Daryl Turner, Mike Green, Ali Haji-Sheik, and '84 third-pick-overall Carl Banks. It became a new front: The League, already scrambling for free agents and top picks ahead of the draft, now had to rework chain deals into a single, uninterrupted flow.

• Those aforementioned bean-counters at Chrysler were also known to other Panthers' fans as "Hebert's Huge-a-nots": they came to games in drag, donning elaborate 17th/18th French Courtesan attire--big white wigs, heavy makeup, fake bosoms, the whole shebang. The few spouses resembled Louis XIV or other dandies. Think grad-school Hogettes. Based on spreadsheets and calculations, they also pressed the club to sign ex-Michigan two-tooler Steve Smith as Bobby's backup; he spent '84 scrambling for Montreal, only to lose out to Turner Gill (Whit Taylor had already jumped to join Chuck Fairbanks and the Atlantic Schooners--ed.). Local ties and a more open game led to the signing. Smith's deal was a fourth of Taylor's. 

• Chicago found the exploit independently, but trained their efforts on acquiring good clay to sculpt--either fringe NFL guys like Mitchell Brookins or exceedingly talented CFL-caliber quick-big-guys like Mike Burgereau. From his modest bungalow in Wrigleyville, Mr. Ortega called lists of regional picks and offered players long deals with "solid" pay in the $150,000-$250,000 per year range; he made no promises other than those deals would be guaranteed through two years with no cuts. It worked in quickly reconstructing a roster decimated by the '84 preseason swap and an owner that abandoned them two weeks into the season. Top prospect Al Toon's base salary was probably less than what he would've gotten as a first round draftee, but no one was willing to pay him an immediate $375,000 as a bonus. Dellenbach, another high round prospect, received the same deal. When asked what the deeply opaque man was like in negotiations, Al echoed previous reports from Walter and Irving: he asked what Toon wanted as a bonus, then maintained eye contact for 20 seconds before pulling out his checkbook and writing that exact amount. Babe Laufenberg added that he also received a warmed up mallomar at the end of his talks--the only way to get them. Patriots owner Billy Sullivan, who matched an offer to Tony Eason to stave a jump, was convinced Mr. Ortega fought alongside Castro in '59, burning the ears of Birchers.

• Neil Lomax came achingly close to the playoffs at the end of '84--O'donoghue's whiff against the Skins cost them--yet Bidwell still short-changed him. Denver, the tightest of the ships, surprised everyone when they emerged as the rumored club. Gold owner and spring faction lieutenant Ron Blanding nearly sold the club to a car dealer but withdrew the offer once news of Trump and Einhorn's disappearance plastered CNN. With another revenue stream, he thought why not and offered Lomax a "try before you buy," 1 year, $2.85 million deal--a million more than the rest of payroll. That he used rent-a-wreck after flying Neil into ominous Denver airport did him in; Jim Hanifan, the Football Cardinals coach, called Lomax at his Super 8 pleading to return. The Busch family flew him on a private jet. 

• Prince McJunkins was the USFL’s lowest paid starting quarterback in '84, his $86,000 salary even lower than any CFL quarterback--even figuring in the $35,000 in bonuses he achieved still saw Wayne Peace better compensated. Prince didn't have options. His deal contained a poison pill, full payment back, if he jumped and no one in the League wanted him. Blanding blocked all trade requests. Jim Hart, whose salary was more than triple Prince's, even volunteered to retire and join Morton's staff for nothing, if that meant McJunkins’ could get a raise (Hart and Craig both deeply admired the kid and helped him with his arm strength--ed.). This was even rejected. It led to the first mass labor action in the USFL: players, even de facto starter Bob Gagliano, walked out of the Alberson's parking lot. They demanded the club use Hertz rental cars, better compensation for their leader, and 10% raises. While the other owners clamored for much of the roster, Stan Chera--in a shocker--was the voice of reason: they couldn't reveal internal strife, give into the piddly demands. Blanding only agreed to all terms after--including shifting training camp from the Alberston parking lot in Aurora to the painted desert part of the state, at a local community college--after he found his gazebo on fire, his prized Salukis gone. Birchers expressed worry over the raises, the proper weight room with hot water, the newer cars with functioning breaks--will this soften our boys up?

• Reggie MacCormac, a freelancer for the Sun, would refer to the Jacksonville Bulls' offseason moves as "Dinosaur Hunting," which had flourish if not entirely true. After New Jersey welcomed Flutie into the New World Order, they would deal Sipe south for two first rounders in the open draft. Brian would be joined by Archie Griffin--out of pro football since '83--and veteran Terry Beeson, who immediately got placed on the IR for gout, stemming from the post-game Outlaw buffets of deep fried chicken livers and okra. It was a lot of cash to spend by a modest club, especially after a long fall dealing with Robbie Mahfouz. The Offensive Rookie of the Year finalist requested a modest bump to a modest contract, and a desperate Bum Phillips--having failed to convince Earl Campbell to come take hand-offs or chase after wilting backfield squirts from Richard Todd or Dave Wilson--needed something to get Saints fans excited again. Steve Bullard, like all small ship captains, countered Robbie with empty appeals of unity and a $36,000 cash bonus, a grand for every touchdown he threw in '84. Public reports called it a "mutual decoupling," but behind the scenes Jacksonville pulled a "trade," allowing Robbie to sign a 5 year, $1.9 million deal in exchange for a two-year moratorium on trying to wrench away Vaughn Johnson. Aside from these moves, the Bulls did manage to sign territorial selections Gary Wilkins, Frank Bush--who would usurp a foot-throbbing Beeson--and Georgia Tech star Robert Lavette, a potential late third round pick, depending on how the "running back market" played out. 

• MacCormac also covered Tampa Bay who had started to capture the imagination of the city. Yeah, Bandit Ball wasn't quite there yet but Bassett and Co. were clearly trying, while the House of Culver griped and moaned over Doug Williams' departure the year before. Reggie credited Burt Reynolds for the swindle of top prospects Brett Clark and Eddie Brown; their mothers were fans like Wilber Marshall's. After chasing squirts from the aging Ken Anderson, Turk Schonert, and Glenn Carano, and then the talented but exhausted Jack Thompson, Cris Collinsworth decided to honor the deal he signed back in '83. While he would catch passes from a pivot older than the Gang of Four, Steve Calabria--the arguably number two quarterback prospect in the NFL draft after Flutie--would be waiting in the wings. The Colgate Colossus came to Tampa in a complex pick swap with the Generals, negotiated via speakerphone by Roy Cohn. 

• Memphis had a rough '84 on the field, but endeared themselves to the city; Reggie White was a big reason for 30k+ at the Liberty Bowl, and the Estate recognized The King would've invested--he nearly bought the WFL's Memphis Southmen in '75 in a bid to get them into The League. Showboats owner William Duvanant's hope for easier liquidity proved for naught though. Graceland did help with small cash drops to aid trades for Tim Spencer--out of Arizona after Eric's arrival--and John Corker--jettisoned for Carl Banks in Michigan--as well as Scott Moser from Houston, but that all totalled about $90,000. Billy found money for big-get rookie Carl Zander by shorting scores of cotton futures (it nearly got him an assassin's bullet at Huey's Burgers from a 17-year-old dishwasher named Tyrone Alphonoso Taliaferro, who claimed his act was "political," done in solidarity with people of Bangladesh, Ethiopia, and Libya; connections to the Tamal Tigers was completely contrived by The Commercial Appeal--ed.). Ezra Rethune, a commercial plumber and angel investor in the club, helped sign three obscure rookies with great names: Herman Hunter, Tiger Greene, and Mossy Cade. He also offered free ditch digging and at-cost pipe laying to Jim Irsay and the new family compound in Carmel, Indiana in exchange for the contracts of defensive end Chris Scott and corner Leonard Coleman. Priscilla took notes.

• Boomer had lived up to expectations in '84 and helped brighten the Feds' prospects in the Capitol. While the Skins remained entrenched, Esiason and crew found their niche among the DC elite: think tank demons, congressmen, and the transplant drones employed in the technocracy felt "safe" to cheer for the springball club. They were young, fast, and didn't face their hometown teams. Tip O'Neill sweated in the sun every week watching the club and seemed genuinely disappointed by Craig James' departure to his beloved Patriots. Attendance at RFK grew to a respectable 28,900 by the end of the season. Despite a cash-rich yuppie fanbase and interest from the Trilateral Commission in their success, the Fed's off-season acquisitions all failed to grab already dim imaginations. The July '84 poaching of Chris Washington--their 3rd round pick in '84, Tampa Bay's 6th rounder--didn't budge the needle. Lester Lyles, Louis Cooper, and George Adams--whose NFL draft stock kept climbing as more and more flashier names jumped--were met with "that's nice." Fans got excited when they signed a Golic, but then found out it was Mike, who was not even a territorial selection by Chicago; Willie Joyner was no Charlie. Signings of, and trades for, Richard Crump, Ron Freeman, and Bob Niziolek were relegated to the transactions page of the Post, with no write up. The signing of Andre Reed drew ire because of its size: 4 years, $1 million and a $200,000 bonus for some guy from Kutztown? Joe Theismann, in a guest column for the John Birch Society's newsletter, questioned the "lack of vision for a foot-ball team seated at the HEART of EMPIRE," before devolving into a 2,000 word screed about Leon McQuay's fumble in the '71 Grey Cup, and the need to allow "Warrior Poets'' like himself to have free reign over the meek. Even the most ardent partisans couldn't track Joe's rambling. With the Stars holding steady, Chera's terror in Jersey, and Pittsburgh's rapid formation into a legitimate force, the Imperium worried. Did the Feds do enough?

Freedom of Choice

A writer for Sport would refer to the '84 meetings on August 22 as "the opening of 1st Congress of the Defense of the Football Revolution" (the writer, Teddy Safire, a nephew of William, would be banned for life from league events--ed.). "Chairman" Burt would reflect on a successful second year; too early to declare total victory, but the influx of TV money and "interested partisans" buoying weak fronts with new capital proved the six-team expansion gamble a correct decision, one that would further be reified by time. The language is clumsy because articulate language works to regulate the exuberance of negative freedom, the opening of a slate-colored sky. The Bandit recognized, though, that careful analysis--thinking-through--”studying the horizon” would still be important: they’re on the retreat but not smashed. They are looking for the inner strength that we have in us; they don’t have that--they all inherited their fortunes from stronger men--but they will use every dirty trick they can think of to destroy “us” and “the project.” 

After the rattling off of positive data--improved ratings, a second place finish for the title game, not bad, not bad, the new television deals--Burt Reynolds hope to craft a final analysis of the tragedies of Trump and even the patsy Oldenburg. He assessed that Donald was "70% good, 30% bad," but that the thirty "consumed 100% of the good." Don's collected menagerie of talented and overlooked vets--Kerry Justin, Jim LeClair--should be praised. Often we confuse thrift with cowardice; if we wish to break through, we must overcome the contradictions of good business practice and stinginess, of investment and sunk cost. Don did not overcome--in fact, he would attempt a great betrayal not seen since Thermidor--but some of his actions could be clipped, observed closely, reoriented. His “sin” was the pursuit of only himself, Reynolds emphasized. If he remained the pilot of this great project, he would’ve crashed it into a mountain. “So, wherever he is, I hope he looks inside himself and atones.” 

The league still treated Trump like a martyr. Chera seriously considered brandishing black armbands in ‘85, but Commish Debs quickly nixed that idea--fuel for the Birchers and lumpen nerds who could afford Prodigy or The Source, to "post," and trade rumors, which would trickle down to Cable Access loons, and then get picked up by bored overnight crews at CNN  "It’d dog us.” Chera, wanting to give recognition to a student, instead had red-white-and-blue elastic band with a gold“Trump” sewn to the right sleeves of each jersey. In this period of patriotism, he drew few critics beyond Susan Sontag, who compared them to Nazi sashes in the New Yorker, but that readership and springball’s fanbase rarely overlapped (Plympton did admit to finding the league’s barbarism and libidinal pleasures “colorful, almost charming” when compared to the hollow cathedral of The League--ed.). In an act of novelty, Stan printed up 5,000 cheap mesh facsimiles--he went for number 45, Trump’s birth year, after Flutie demanded $25,000 for them to use his #22--as a giveaway for the home opener. Tickets sold out in a day. 

To return to our speech, to August 22, 1984. Chairman Burt would complete his comments by bringing back a brighter image of the ex-Generals’ owner: he would recall a meeting Don successfully hijacked, calling the rest of the owners “nerds” and “losers” for not preparing for a coming conflict. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon guys, if you want to win, you must prepare for war and it will be very nasty and very dirty, but it could be a very, very, very good thing. Think of Liza. A very classy woman, but one who knows how to get nasty. We must become Liza folks, we must prepare for a very nasty war.” Reynolds pushed up his chunky Armani sunglasses and brushed a very tight beard. Gabriel’s horn was calling, would they all answer it?