USFL '87 Notes: Dispatches from the Atlantic

 

Baltimore ('86: 6-12)

The echoes bouncing around Memorial Stadium by May '86 led to pangs of '83, the final stages of life for the Colts, before the imposters played in Indianapolis. The Stars finished 6-12, often losing by razor edges; GM Carl Peterson over thunk: he let a few guys walk, he focused on young talent, then he signed Mike Quick. His tactic of "moderation"--trimming the edges--floundered. Trading away the rights to Napoleon McCallum and Mark Kelso--to the Feds no less!--opened ulcers; he could be seen chugging Kaopectate from his seat high up in the press box.

There were bright spots: rookie Stan Gelbaugh overtook a brittle Fusina--he won 4 of his stars--fellow rookie Todd Bowles seemed to materialize all over the secondary; a dissatisfied Bryant had a career year. Kelvin wanted out via trade or a buyout, something Peterson refused. That the Skins held his NFL rights proved good leverage: Bryant read the same Post articles quoting anonymous sources from the Imperium about how his $250,000 a year contract--with one year left for '87--was "inexplicable," if he wanted to join, he'd have to take a paycut. It only made Kelvin chug more, prove them wrong, and could have explained the achillean misery for Stars fans. Mora ended up leaning into Bryant too much at times; defenses quickly read them. He started to crash himself against rocks. 

Theismann's demands for more weapons at his weekend BBQ salons, the loss of Hart and Riggs to the USFL in '84, and the surprising Feds contributed to the Skins buckle on July 28, the club paying Baltimore $275,000 for Bryant's contract. Feeling a hot hand, Carl got $125,000 from Green Bay--themselves jettisoning veteran talent--for Fusina, who rode pine much of June. George Cooper to San Fran netted him $200k; $75,000 for Dave Opfar. The cash helped him lock in Fuller and Kugler, and--while everyone else poured over listings--sign free agents Allen Harvey and Derrick Martin, and trade for Darrell Pattillo. 

Delaware's Rich Ganon signed on Christmas Day: 6 years, $1.2 million, a $325,000 cash bonus, and a Pontiac Fero, courtesy of a minority owner in Chevy Chase who also ran a GM dealership. NFL offices winced: it was Bobby Hebert all over again, a I-AA big boy who could chuck taking the primrose path. Ganon's claim that a Patriots scout fawned over him only to suggest he'd make a great blocking back sounded accurate enough that Tip O'Neill threatened to investigate the club. The League, even in detente, couldn't rid themselves of their diseased reasoning: here was a counter-hegemon emerging, and here they were like Rich Uncle Pennybags in polos and spitting Redman in wastebaskets. A player SI's Dr. Z wrote "would be a 1st round talent if he went to USC." Carl looked the visionary again, that he already had a sophomore talent in Stan the Man fueled the image as innovator. Jim Mora didn't like all the rookie signings--they also signed an extremely short but quick back out of William and Mary named Michael Clemons and Terps Alvin Blount and Chuck Faucette--but one plays the hand dealt to them. He still had Sam Mills. 

Washington ('86: 9-9)

The Washington Federal's amorphous ownership structure fueled suspicions that they were some side project of a bored spook in Langley. A Post investigation revealed a chain of holding companies dotting the Caribbean and Central Europe--it was rumored Hans-Adam II, heir apparent of Lichtenstein, held a 20-percent stake. But who really cares, right?

George Allen brought Lynn Dickey in as a buttress to the invisible bureaucracy that, by November '86, pressed for UVA's Don Majikowksi, a big boy with a cannon and thick thighs for miles, the hero of the '84 Peach Bowl and the best quarterback in school history. The Feds' rabid Northern Virginia fanbase loved "The Majik Man"--a name they kept pressing that wouldn't stick--and as Charlottesville fell in their territory, an offer could be made by Christmas Day. But George didn't want a rookie at the helm post-Boomer, he wanted his guy, and a 36-year-old steam boat captain facing a second divorce and personal bankruptcy fit the bill. Langley demurred; Lynn signed for $425,000 for '87 with bonuses that could push it to $800k. Typical asset contract. Majik signed a 5-year deal after the Blue-Gray game that included a $500,000 signing bonus and a futures contract for 2% annual earnings on a sugar plantation in Cuba, which could be remitted in event of an overthrow of Castro.

Allen's deep-fathom ability to annoy perplexed and impressed everyone, given a 39-33 record as a USFL coach, which included three straight 9-9 campaigns and three historic playoff meltdowns. But he was beloved by a NOVA base already nostalgic for the 70s. One successful Allen strategy was extracting concessions when he had no true title. When Bush Jr. and the Gamblers signed Chiefs cut Calvin Daniels in September, Allen filed a grievance with the league, claiming the linebacker would've been on the Feds' territorial list had the USFL existed in 1982. 

Assistant coach Roman Gabriel took the dictation during George's daily lunch of a big spoon, a jar of Peter Pan, and a soft serve vanilla ice cream cone smashed into a wax paper bowl. Compensation picks for past territorial selections had been formally codified--clubs had been making low pick swaps all offseason--but everyone assumed players active before '83 were fair game. Daniels played at Chapel Hill, one of the Feds' territories, but had been a Chief since '82. 

The arbitrator was college buddies with Commish Debs: Eddie Slack, 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. Slack 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. 

To get back, Slack accepted a hearing, even though an August meeting over San Antonio's signing of UNC back Ethan Horton ended with Slack brandishing his snub nose while reading the final statement. Allen didn't get all of his request but most of it: 5th, 8th, and 12th round picks in January and veteran James Hadnot, whom he immediately cut after acquiring.

Ahead of Cal, Coach couldn't find a soft serve machine, so he settled for Breyer's in a waffle cone. A writer for Pravda claimed to see Allen berate Gabriel when he came into the room with the box, trembling. That he bit into the ice cream like a New Englander sent thick chills down everyone's spine. "Cal is a 1st round talent and a 4th, it is only fair." Bush Jr. snickered, then, "no shit that's why we signed him," which led to self-slapping by the Gamblers legal team. Slack, snub nose out the whole time, rotary spinning, made the correct argument for them: Daniels was a 2nd round pick in '82, and he just got cut by a team that hadn't made the postseason since 1971. Houston would give up a 4th round pick, but that was that. Eddie also banned future petitions for pre-'83 players henceforth.

Allen griped to The Commish--"you are breaking contracts, wiping the league's bylaws with your ass," etc. Debs sat silently, covered in Camel ash, before laying it out for him: George's usefulness to the league was over and Bush Jr. was bringing in Saudi and Poppy money. That he got a pick at all was not an obligation but a gift. Allen would return to find all the Peter Pan jars in his office pantry tainted with rat feces--an extreme sign, or maybe just a legitimate mistake. He scowled through training camp, watching Dickey not so much throw but heave, William Perry crush the shoulders of blocking dummies into dust. 

Pittsburgh ('86: 9-8-1)

Pittsburgh fans found a new, seductive pleasure: fretting over a football team. The Steelers were so divine in the 70s one took them for granted. And while the black and gold were in decline by '86, the appearance of the orange and purple, with their young players and local hero, filled a sort of fraternal hole. The Maulers' slice through the playoffs led Emil Gront, a writer for the East German Deutsche Sportecho, to compare Rozier and the Maulers to Spartacus and his army, pulling off miraculous wins but also wandering aimlessly. Mike's injury in the 17-13 win over New Jersey seemed particularly poetic; his absence against Memphis was felt acutely, with ABC's camera focused on a sports jacket-and-black-tshirt clad Rozier on the sideline. The electric eyes caught his winces, scowls, and "sullen meditation"--Gront's words--through Tony Lee's left and right clankers, and a doink off the crossbar that cost a critical PAT; 16-13 in triple overtime, the longest game in professional football history. It further endeared: when these kids lose–like the steel industry–they lose big. It also–to complete Gront's analogy–felt love ke a crucifixion at the end: a Saturday night game that took 4 hours and 31 minutes. Those who chose it over CBS' block of Magnum and Simon and Simon reruns or NBC's burn-off of the sentimental Hal Linden-Harry Morgan vehicle Blacke's Magic were committed to the club's cause. More committed than Mike, at least, who signed with Jacksonville in September.

***

None of the Maulers offseason moves provided solace for Rozier's departure--really going with Wolfley, Paige, and Banks? Drewery and Julius Dawkins--a former Pitt receiver and 12th round pick by Buffalo who came on late in the year--meant a shift in strategy for '87. DeBartolo eyed Shane Conlan, but Birmingham theft of Cornelius ennett saw the League finally scramble, assuring Conlan a fat contract wherever he landed: when Buffalo took him, Shane successfully got Pete to tack on another million. 

DeBartolo Sr. kiboshed Junior's plan to lure Pitt super sophomore Craig Heyward out of school early, the Younger having put together a 5-year, $5 million package that included a bundle of Orange Julius franchises with peak placement next to Auntie Anne's in a dozen malls across the country, all on DeBartolo land. They instead signed Tom Brown, Ironhead's running mate, a man better known to Burghers as the younger brother of Marino target John Brown. The three members of the '86 Nittany Lions--Ray Isom, Mitch Frerotte, and Massimo--failed to capture imaginations. Junior blocked senior's pursuit of DJ Dozier based on scathing reports from scouts in the field; that he played baseball too led to fear of an "Allegheny Bo." No one had heard of Cornell Burbage or John Settle. Dennis Fowlkes excited only the shut-ins in Morgantown who remembered him, but they didn't buy tickets. Joe Shield spent two seasons in Green Bay but never got into a game. The Invisible Hand of the Market already on most Pittsburghers' throats; now it came to strangle and dissolve their distractions. New Jersey's reload; Washington's defense a year older and harder; Baltimore would probably be bad, but Gelbaugh and crew could probably frustrate in '87. Time to tune out and maybe check in May. 

There was one interesting signing. Larry Station was so good in college one forgot that he played at Iowa, and his stature and approach--undersized, fast, and precise--were ideal traits in the USFL and Canada. But a back injury against UCLA in the '86 Rose Bowl--three days before the Open Draft--saw him fall through the cracks. The Steelers took a waiver on him in the 11th round of the NFL draft. He struggled to come back from his injury, though, leading Noll to cut him in October; the old man wept: the kid reminded him of Bednarik, just four inches shorter. The day Larry packed his bags was the same day Premier Morenov arrived in the Steel City as part of his first official state visit, which included stops at every NFL team's practice facility (see our NFL '86 notes, "The Curious Case of Vasiliy Morenov"--ed.). 

The General Secretary recognized him and compared Larry to Nick Buoniconti, one of the linebackers of his cherished '72 Dolphins. Station was moved. He would receive a referral to Carnegie Mellon, where a medical technology exchange student would perform "The Iron Curtain" procedure, initially designed to help tank men but successfully extended to Mongolian wrestlers with back injuries. 

Station awoke to an orchid in his room, a plastic hammer and sickle looming out of the pot with a note: "wiley flowers survive and grow, so do you"--V. Larry caught the eye of a Mauler scout after a PT session, who signed him to a one year deal ahead of camp. He popped Hostetler and nearly broke Joe Shield's ribs. He could feel it. He was back. No one noticed yet.