<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<BODY.CONTENT>
<UID>
8601040380
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
860124
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Friday, January 24, 1986
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
STATE EDITION
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
SPT
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1D
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>
Photo
</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>
SEE ALSO METRO FINAL EDITION PAGE 1D
</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1986, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
PATRIOTS TEASE THEIR FOES BY STRIPPING THE FOOTBALL
</HEADLINE>
<SUBHEAD>

</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
NEW ORLEANS -- They cannot help it. It is in their blood now. They see a
football and they have to strip it.

  Kickoffs. It happens on kickoffs. And punts. And running plays and passing
plays --  it can happen then, too. Anytime the other team has the ball. It is
in their blood now. They cannot help it.

  The New England Patriots play strip football.
  It is largely the reason they are  in  the Super Bowl. It is probably their
best tool for winning it. Strip the ball from the opponent's grasp, pounce on
it, maybe pick it up and run it in for a touchdown.
  It is larceny. It is legal.  It can change everything. It can eat film,
melt clipboards, shred even the best playbooks into a hundred little pieces.
  The Patriots do it as well as anyone. Have ball, will maul. Have you ever
wondered  who should get  credit for a fumble -- the guy who dropped it or the
guy who hit him? Here is the answer. The strip is the answer.
  "We don't just tackle the players," says Patriots linebacker Andre
Tippett, "we tackle the football."
  "One guy holds him up, the other guy comes in after the ball," says
linebacker Steve Nelson.
  "We're thinking the same thing every time we go out there," says
cornerback Rod McSwain. "We're thinking turnover, turnover, turnover."
  Eight forced fumbles in three playoff games. Eight, you say? Eight, they
say. They grin. They cannot help it. It is in their blood now. They see the
football and they have to strip it.
Practice, practice, practice  It began last season in a game at Denver. In
the fourth quarter, Patriots fullback Mosi Tatupu was stripped  of the ball by
a Bronco and New England lost the game. Afterward, in a small room at Mile
High Stadium, the Patriots' coaches vowed they would not be beaten that way
again. They would beat other teams  that way.
  They would turn the players into strip artists.
  So to speak.
  How do you do it? Here is how you do it. Picture football practice. Picture
a ball carrier running  downfield, as a teammate runs up behind him and
punches the ball out of his grasp, or yanks his arm as he would a chicken
wishbone, or grabs his elbow and pulls it due east or due west until the ball
drops out.
  How do you do it? Picture a half-dozen players standing in a circle. One
rolls a football like dice. Another pretends it's a fumble, dives on it, jumps
up, spins it to someone else, who dives on it,  jumps up, spins it to someone
else. Over and over.
  Strip drills. That's how you do it.
  "We do them so much it becomes like second nature," says safety Roland
James.
  "After all those drills,  you see the ball on the ground and you jump on it
instinctively," McSwain says. "Other players have that split second of
hesitation. In that split second, someone else could get it."
  The Patriots  figure they can win the Super Bowl if they force five
turnovers from the Bears on Sunday. Five. The Patriots  have scored 61 points
as a result of 16 turnovers in their three playoff games.
  "We talk  turnovers constantly," says special-teams coach Dante
Scarnecchia. "Tackle the football! Tackle the football! I don't know how many
times I scream that."
Bears will hang on tight  How much difference  do forced fumbles make? Try
this. In the AFC wild-card game, Johnny Rembert stripped the Jets' Johnny
Hector on a kickoff and ran the ball in for a touchdown. The play effectively
iced the game for New  England.
  Try this. In the next round, Tatupu stripped the Raiders' Sam Seale on a
kickoff return, and Jim Bowman from Central Michigan fell on the ball in the
end zone for the winning touchdown.
  Try this. In the AFC championship, Tatupu stripped Miami's Lorenzo  Hampton
on the second-half kickoff, setting up another touchdown that made it 24-7,
Patriots.  And booked the tickets to New Orleans.
  How much difference do fumbles  make? The Super Bowl. That's how much
difference they make.
  "The only way the Patriots could beat us here," says Chicago Bears
quarterback Jim McMahon, "is by forcing  turnovers."
  "We'll be carrying the ball very tightly," says Bears fullback Matt Suhey.
  The Bears ought to know. They led the NFC in take-aways. The Pats led the
AFC. Strip wars? Yes. It could  be.
  The game is so complex now. There is an X for every O. There is a counter
for every thrust. There is an alternative for every alternative.
  And there is nothing like a fumble to turn it all  upside down. You can
talk about your flex and your nickel and your split-seam, double-zone weakside
pressure. The Patriots are hoping for five good strips. That's what they are
hoping for.

CUTLINE
Mosi  Tatupu
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