8701040259
DETROIT FREE PRESS
870121
Wednesday, January 21, 1987
METRO FINAL
1D
MITCH ALBOM
Copyright (c) 1987, Detroit Free Press
NO. 82 COLORFUL? WELL, HE'S FULL OF SOMETHING
ANAHEIM, Calif. -- Yoo-hoo. He's over here. Sitting behind that crowd of
reporters. The guy with the Grace Jones haircut and the earrings and the hobby
of painting women with thick eyelashes and . . . ooh, what's that? He took
off the earrings? No problem. They're in his bag.
"I'll put them back on as soon as the team pictures are done," said Vance
Johnson.
What a relief!
Here he is, America, the next great left turn of Super Bowl tradition.
Just when you thought we'd have nobody to take Jim McMahon's place, or to walk
in the Refrigerator's oversized footprints. Just when you thought the Giants
and Broncos were dull, average, maybe a tad boring. . . .
Vance, kid, tell us about your painting.
"I only paint women, OK? I use a lot of bold lines. I like to do thick
lips, real red, and concentrate on the eyes.
"I did an acrylic after we won the AFC championship. It's a woman holding
up a mirror and peeking out from behind a chic blanket. I call it 'A Peak in
87.' "
"Gotcha," said a reporter, nodding, "and did you always paint beautiful
women? Was it always your favorite subject matter, even as a child?"
"No," he said. "I painted stick figures then."
Natch.
He's an eccentric one And there you have it. He's young. He's fast. He's in
the Super Bowl. . . . Vance Johnson, wide receiver, graphic artist.
He held court for one hour Tuesday afternoon, the first full day of media
madness as the countdown to Super Bowl XXI continues. And Vance -- who said
he knows the power of publicity -- did not waste any time. He opened with his
artwork at Arizona, moved into the earrings bit, shifted gracefully into his
prize possessions -- a Porsche 911, and a boat -- and then to his nickname,
"Dash," earned not because he is so fast but because "on the first day of
practice I showed up in a fur coat and gloves and the guys started calling me
'Dash Riprock,' after the guy in 'The Flintstones.' "
The tape recorders hummed with glee, the pencils nearly ignited on the
pads. Steadily the crowd on the practice field grew larger and larger as the
word spread. Reporters left the dull old Broncos' linemen in mid-sentence.
"Psst. Over there," they whispered, "a colorful character."
Get ready.
Vance Fever.
There is one every year, isn't there? The eccentric. Or the player we dub
the eccentric. Last year, McMahon spit tobacco juice out one end and took
acupuncture needles in the other. The media ate it up. The year before, Bubba
Paris talked about delivering religious sermons to opposing linemen while in
his crouch. Ate it up again.
So why not Vance Johnson, a 23-year-old former world-class long-jumper who
lists among his idols Olympian Carl Lewis -- the king of speed, grace and
orange lip gloss.
"Carl had it together," Vance said.
But Johnson is catching up.
Prepare yourself for plenty more on him, at least until someone figures out
which is the real No. 82. True, he is a lightning-quick receiver, the son of a
military man, a guy who came back from a brutal knee injury this season to
take more violent licks every Sunday. It is also true that he favors clown
dolls, long earrings, and complains that the wind has blown his hair down. So
a lot of people want to know whom Vance is taking to the dance.
"What do you think Lawrence Taylor thinks of your earrings?" someone asked.
"I was hoping he'd go easy on me because he figured I was gay," Johnson
said.
Hold that quote.
Click, click.
The price of artwork Vance held out his hands. "All my fingers have been
dislocated except my two thumbs," he said. "That's John Elway's passes for
you."
He does that, too. Catches Elway's passes. He caught a 48- yard touchdown
that helped seal the playoff victory over New England. He will be a big target
on Sunday. If we ever get there.
For now, though, he is this year's model of eccentricity, a football player
who will be quoted across America as saying, "My signed lithographs will go
for $250 apiece, unless we win the Super Bowl. I imagine the price will go up
then."
It is hard to tell which is more ridiculous, the things coming from his
mouth, or the fact that they are all being written down. You ponder that
for a while. You decide that both are ridiculous.
"What do your teammates think of your artwork?" someone asked him.
"They love it," he said.
"And what do your artistic friends think?"
"What do they think?" He paused, squinting in the midday sun. "Actually,
they think I'm crazy for playing football."
No comment.