USFL Fragments: '87, Meddling with the Primal Forces of Nature

The Washington Federal's amorphous ownership structure--a series of holding companies dotting the Caribbean and Central Europe--it was rumored Hans-Adam II, heir apparent of Lichtenstein, held a 20-percent stake--fueled suspicions that they were some side project of a bored spook in Langley. 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--the same Van Nuys lawyer friend of Commish Debs--accepted a hearing, even though a late August hearing over San Antonio's signing of Ethan Horton, another Chiefs cut, ended with a furious arbitrator 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; he failed to get the 2nd round pick.

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. The arbitrator's sidearm 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. He 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 family 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.