USFL '86: Memphis Showboats, or, Lazy Sailing

Memphis started '85 5-1 before collapsing: at 7-7, still in the playoff hunt, they would drop their final four. The schizophrenic offense was to blame: Spencer looked bored; rookie Herman Hunter--despite a strong start--would suffer ticky-tack injuries, getting the yips after a string of bad hits on kick-off returns. The "fire-and-ice" approach looked mealy-mouth: no real rhythm there as Pepper kept swapping Kelley and Walter Lewis, constantly referencing spreadsheets and probability scenarios: no feeling really there, everything deduced, programmed along a path. It all made new partner Priscilla Presley more involved--this doesn't represent the football The King would've loved--and led to the aforementioned exits of Spencer and Kelley. 

It was the Widow who brought in Gary Hogeboom, the Mighty Casey in Dallas. The Big Boy of presumed German stock had teased Cowboys fans since his strong relief in the '82 NFC title game; a divine injury, or Landry's unknowable mind in the ensuing years, always seemed to hold him back. After Gary protested from the sideline to start or be traded, Tom engineered a complicated trade to Indy--Irsay dreamed of Vinny, but also wanted to win right now, maintain some impossible high-wire act. Ah, but the Invisible Hand came down. Cowboy's owner Bum Bright, further squeezed, sold Hogeboom's contract to Presley for $325,000. Jim balked at a cash trade. Bright's failures on energy option contracts, combined w/Gaddafi and the Soviets' tightening of the oil spigots, another successful capture of Mecca by unpaid and dispelled Afghan fighters, the emergence of a well-armed group looking to unify Venezuela and Guyana into a "Bolivarian People's State," and the East German's public demonstration of a clean burning "Stakhanov Engine" sent ripples through Western markets. Gary was excited; he got a 3-year, $1.75 million deal with a $500,000 signing bonus. There was hope Hogey--a big mobile guy with a cannon--could synthesize Lewis's wheels and Kelley's arm; the latter had developed into a good-skinny-guy-in-the-pocket, but one whose passes often wavered at the end. Gary's size and arm could maybe save the offense.

Graceland's encroachment into football decisions went further with the installation of Thomas Magnum IV as offensive coordinator. Tall and handsome--Priscilla went so far to say his soft eyes and smooth cheeks were terrifying, as if seeing into the face of God--Tom was a star quarterback at the Naval Academy in the late '60s before serving in intelligence during Vietnam. He apparently even met Premier Morenov during this period, but both got cagey when asked about it. He drifted around Hawaii after his service before signing with The Hawaiians of the old World Football League, where he split time with Jim Fassel. His experience there led to a brief stint in Canada, where Regina hoped to groom him to be Ron Lancaster's successor, but Magnum's rebellious nature ended Saskatchewan's aspirations quickly. His abilities--not a strong arm but an accurate one, not agile but smart and deliberate in his motion, he knew his body--seemed crafted for the Canadian game, but he also liked pounding OVs and scrounging Regina's limited nightlife: he hung on until '77, cut a day after their Grey Cup loss, one he spent on the back bench, nursing a hangover. He went back to Hawaii, picking up odd jobs better suited to his military training: "security," marital surveillance, bail bonding, etc.

Magnum fell into coaching by accident, working with quarterbacks at a Honolulu high school--as a private investigator whose clients were almost exclusively the petty bourgeois fearing infidelity, he could do both gigs simultaneously: picking up info from players through observation, getting to know subjects at the Rotary clu meeting lonely clients at PTA meeting. Photographing offensive layouts gave him excuses to snap shots. He did well enough as a coach--his ability to shift from jesting to contemplating to maudlin speech-making made him popular, an instant leader--he ended up on Dick Tomey's staff at UH in '81, constructing elaborate and effective passing offensives. He gradually gained a reputation as a "Mad Professor," adapting Canuck schemes to the 11 man game. He thought "run and shoot" was too flashy and weak, so he played around with three receiver schemes that often featured a fullback with good hands in the tight end position. He couldn't focus on one name for it: spray attack, shotgun blast, agent orange. It seemed to work with medium talent, it was also a little more macho than Mouse Davis' experimentations. Beat writers at the Commercial Appeal called it "The Pepper Box," giving credit to head coach Rogers, who didn't particularly like him.

Priscilla hired Magnum for security work and a "project" to possibly track down a rumor that The King's twin was actually alive. She tapped him for the 'Boats job after seeing him draw out plays on a napkin for an accountant at an office party. Rogers was still agonizing over the decision to hire an OC after Charlie Waller resigned to reunite with George Allen in Washington. Thomas' good looks, charm, and new ideas appealed. The loose vibe of Memphis appealed to Magnum.

The gold safe open, Graceland brought in local rookies Tim Harris and Ravin Caldwell on defense. Tony Baker--a very good running back out of East Carolina--caught some attention from the NFL, but scouts still felt uncomfortable about dudes in liminal space. "Either run or catch, Christ," muttered a Green Bay scout. Magnum scooped him at the Blue-Gray game; the back reminded the now rebranded "Memphis Mad Man" of CFL legend George Reed--at least more flexible, late career George. "Hell, maybe" replied eccentric minority owner Ezra Arbunkle who had just finished a pool install got ex-Giant Ernest Gray, whom he signed on his own. 

Head coach Pepper Rogers and co-owner William Dunavant squeezed. They spent much of training camp sitting along the sideline at Christian Brothers University; Dunavant went so far as to install a large cloth parasol in silver, red, and white. Their nickname "Bartles and Jaymes"--they'd sit during practice and drink mint julips before shifting to Dixie Beer to level the sugar off--was attributed to defensive back Tiger Greene, though he took no credit out of fear of being cut.