8602200965
DETROIT FREE PRESS
861110
Monday, November 10, 1986
METRO FINAL
1F
MITCH ALBOM
Copyright (c) 1986, Detroit Free Press
A.C. PROVIDES THE SPARK LIONS ARE SORELY MISSING
Go ahead. Make us sick, why don't you? It's bad enough to sit in a canvas
bubble watching your team go plop. But here was Anthony Carter, back for his
annual visit, streaking across the middle of the Silverdome as if everyone
else were moving in slow motion, and here comes the ball, right on target,
and, bingo, it's in his hands and he's off.
Who needs it? It's hard enough to see the Lions week after week without
getting chewed on by the rats of what might have been. But they were there
Sunday, every time Carter caught the ball. And wouldn't you know it? He caught
it a lot.
Try five receptions for 111 yards. Try a pretty touchdown catch on the lip
of the end zone corner. Try a game-breaking slant across the middle for 49
yards.
Try this. In the Vikings' locker room, following their 24-10 victory over
the Lions, quarterback Tommy Kramer stood up in front of the team to award the
game ball.
"To Anthony Carter," he said, "who's from right here in Motown."
Where's that Pepto-Bismol we had lying around?
He still belongs in Detroit Carter, of course, is not from Motown. He is
from Florida. But don't tell people around here that. Carter -- "A.C.," you
call him "A.C." probably -- spent 7 1/2 years in this area, with the Michigan
Wolverines and the Michigan Panthers, and he was almost a Detroit Lion, until
the front office tripped over itself again and blew the deal. But hey.
"Did you correct Kramer?" someone asked him afterward, as he stood before a
crowd of local reporters. "Did you tell him you're not really from here?"
"Nah," he said.
"You just took the ball and ran?"
'You got it."
No, he got it. And the Vikings got him, thank you very much. Those of you
who remember the almost-deal for Carter's NFL rights -- that fell through last
year when the Lions dinkered around too much for Miami's liking -- probably
had a tough time watching Sunday. Carter caught the first pass of the game and
the Vikings' first offensive touchdown and he had as many yards receiving as
Jeff Chadwick, Leonard Thompson and Jimmy Giles put together.
He was, simply put, one big reason the Lions are 3-7 this morning, and
watching it was as bittersweet as watching your best friend marry your old
flame. How many games had Carter excited people in this town? Beautiful moves,
beautiful receptions. Blinking speed. And now the same moves, in an enemy
uniform.
Give us that aspirin, will ya?
A.C. finds the right home Homecoming. Bah. Who needs it? Carter had friends
in the crowd Sunday -- "16 tickets worth," he said -- old school chums and
Michigan pals. They were waiting in the tunnel after the game, while Carter
patiently answered questions about the Michigan-Ohio State game, about his
days with the Panthers, about what might have been had that deal ever . . .
ah, why torture ourselves?
"Do you ever think about doing what you did today for the Lions?" Carter
was asked.
"It would have been nice," he said. "But I'm happy where I am. Tommy Kramer
is having one of the best seasons I've ever seen. We're playing well. It's a
good group to be around."
Sure it is. The Vikings shower with hope and water these days. For them,
the playoffs are still a longshot possibility. The Lions, meanwhile towel off
and go home, week after week, and if pride and next year aren't good enough
reasons to play, then I'm surprised they show up at all.
They disintegrated Sunday at the moments most critical. A goal line
fumble. An interception returned for a score. Their turnovers led to 17 of
Minnesota's points. So what, the score should be 10-7, Lions win, right?
Forget it. Detroit couldn't even win the coin toss Sunday. Lose enough
close ones and you forget how to beat people, and that seems to have happened
to the home team. Carter, with his game ball under his arm, can right now
thank his stars and his agent that his uniform is purple.
"Will you stick around tonight, maybe see some old friends or something?"
Carter was asked.
"NO! NO! NO!" he hollered, laughing and grabbing his bag. "I'm Minneapolis
bound!"
He looked at the faces, and maybe he saw disapointment.
"I mean, you know, that's my home now," he added.
We know, we know.