<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<BODY.CONTENT>
<UID>
8502090313
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
850930
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Monday, September 30, 1985
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
STATE EDITION
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
SPT
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1F
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>
Photo
</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>

</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1985, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
LIONS TRY THEIR FANS' SOULS IN ANOTHER SPIRITLESS WIN
</HEADLINE>
<SUBHEAD>

</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
Losing. Five seconds left in the half. Eric Hipple leaned over the center,
cupped his hands.

  The Lions were a full four yards from the end zone, trailing by three
points, and, damn, everyone  knew they should be going for a field goal, not a
touchdown.

  But Hipple knew something else.
  "Hut, hut . . . "
  No one cared about this game. Tampa Bay vs. Detroit -- one team winless,
the  other a loser to pitiful Indianapolis the week before.
  There were more empty seats at the Silverdome Sunday afternoon than at a
poetry reading in Las Vegas. They couldn't do a Wave. They couldn't  even do a
Puddle.
  And those who were there -- was it a punishment? did they lose a bet? --
reacted like the  typical caged animal. Boo their team. Boo our team. They
booed everything that moved.  The water boy ran off in tears.
  It all added up to an atmosphere of big deal, doesn't matter, let's go home
and watch the Elvis movie on Channel 50.
  Only it did matter. It mattered a lot. Because  this was one of those games
you have to swallow like cough syrup and pray you don't choke.  The games
against doormats, the snoozers, the games you're supposed to win.
  These are the games that try  men's souls. Men  in shoulder pads, anyhow.
  And Hipple knew it.
  "Hut, hut . . . "
Hipple couldn't afford a repeat  
  Snap.
  Hipple whipped the ball into the gut of receiver Mark Nichols,  and the
zebra gave the touchdown sign. The Lions were back on top.
  And the quarterback started breathing again.
  Remember that last week it was Hipple who fumbled a snap on a crucial
fourth-quarter  drive  as the Lions lost to the previously-winless Colts,
14-6.
  Bad news. They couldn't afford a repeat. Not with their schedule. Over the
next six weeks the Lions face four division champions. We're  talking
Redskins, Bears, 49ers, Dolphins. We're talking blood.
  So despite Tampa Bay's 0-3 record, despite their Chiropractor Offense --
give it to the back! -- despite the fact that a sitar concert  might be more
exciting, this game was, in its own way, crucial, and Lions fans should be
thankful the team got out with a win.
  Because it was not a masterpiece.
  Tampa Bay's offensive line mowed  through the Lions in the first half,
opening holes that Shelly Winters could have gotten through. The Bucs put
James Wilder in there instead. In fact, the Bucs put James Wilder everywhere.
The last group  to depend so much on one man was the Union Gap.
  Fortunately for Detroit, the Bucs' offense disappears after Wilder.
  And yet, until that go-for-it call just before halftime, the Lions were
losing.  And they really didn't put the game away until the fourth quarter,
after the Bucs fumbled over the ball.
  Steve Martin used to say, "Comedy isn't pretty."
  Sometimes, neither is victory.
OK for  Hefner, not for Lions  
  But OK, 3-1 is 3-1. The Lions may need the padding.
  They've finished boot camp. Time to ship out against the real teams.
  "It's going to be a week-to-week struggle,"  admitted coach Darryl Rogers.
And here's why:
  Though the Lions' defense has generally held its own, their offense has
been scattershot at best.
  Sometimes they run. Sometimes they complete a pass. Sometimes they even
score. But the same things can be said of Hugh Hefner, and he doesn't have to
play the Packers next week.
  Without fullback James Jones the Lions are like cyclists in lead boots.
Either Wilbert Montgomery needs bigger holes or the offensive line needs a
faster running back, but one way or another he's not breaking through enough.
  And Hipple, despite Sunday's heroics, has  generally played like an old
Duke Ellington record. Sometimes he's smooth as blue velvet, and sometimes he
skips all over the place.
  They are 3-1, but there's a nagging sensation that they could just as
easily be a lot worse.
  But, OK. Let's be optimistic. Let's say Sunday was a motivation thing.
Getting up for a game against the Bucs is like getting up to shovel snow. And
just as entertaining.
  The Lions won. It counts. That's mostly what you want to hear for now.
  These are the games that try mens' souls.
  The ones coming up will try everything else.
</BODY>
<DISCLAIMER>

</DISCLAIMER>
<KEYWORDS>
COLUMN
</KEYWORDS>
</BODY.CONTENT>
