9001020796
DETROIT FREE PRESS
900115
Monday, January 15, 1990
METRO FINAL CHASER
1D
Photo BOB GALBRAITH Associated Press
Photo BRIAN BAER United Press International
:
49ers receive John Taylor leaps for Joe Montana's pass...
...and takes a seat in the end zone on the Rams' James
Washington as the official signals touchdown, making it 21-3.
MITCH ALBOM
Copyright (c) 1990, Detroit Free Press
DENVER SUPER - BUT 49ERS SUPERIOR
WITH 49ERS, IT'S OVER BEFORE IT'S OVER
SAN FRANCISCO -- Well, I'm sure the Denver Broncos were very happy to
make it back to the Super Bowl. But had their AFC championship been played
after the NFC title game, instead of before it, they might have changed their
minds. They might have told Cleveland, "Listen, uh, you guys go instead, OK?
We have a dental appointment."
Could you blame them? Who on earth would want to play the San Francisco
49ers right now? In the Super Bowl? In front of the whole world? Why not try
to take your pants off -- over your head? Why not punch a grizzly bear? Why
not French-kiss a shark? Why not volunteer to be Noriega's defense attorney?
There has to be a more dignified way to make a living. The 49ers are
playing as if their opponents are clowns, sitting above a tub of water,
waiting for a sponge.
Splash! Down goes Minnesota. Splash! Down go the Rams. The 49ers begin the
'90s the way they ended the '80s, going Super. Why don't we just change the
name? The 49er Bowl. They own the thing anyhow.
"They dominated us in every way," said a polite but stunned quarterback Jim
Everett, after San Francisco blew out the Rams' dream candle, 30-3, Sunday at
Candlestick Park, to win their fourth NFC championship in the last nine
seasons. "They covered us well. They rushed us well. They controlled the ball
well. They read the defense well. They--."
Um. Yeah. Back to you in a minute, Jim.
First this word from the fans in Denver: "HEEELLLLP!" Or didn't they watch
the game here Sunday? Against a Rams squad that was one of just two to beat
them this season, the 49ers barely broke a sweat. They scored three
touchdowns in just over 11 minutes of the second quarter. By halftime, Jerry
Rice was checking for good Cajun restaurants in New Orleans. "Hello? Party of
45 for next Monday?"
And Joe Montana? This is how they spell Joe Montana in football circles:
G-O-D. On Sunday he threw 30 passes, completed all but four, hit for two
touchdowns, 262 yards, had no interceptions, and didn't come close to being
sacked.
"I don't think he had any dirt on him, did he?" asked Everett. "He read our
coverage. His receivers outran us. He--."
Uh-huh. Back in a minute, Jim.
First, let's get this over with. The prediction: San Francisco will win
the Super Bowl. Denver, alas, is doomed. The Broncos already got clobbered,
by Washington and the New York Giants, in Super Bowls XXI and XXII after the
1986 and '87 seasons. Why do they keep coming back? Who's running the show out
there, Harold Stassen?
About the only mistake the Broncos haven't made in a Super Bowl is showing
up when the 49ers are there. Now, they have committed that bugaboo. Las Vegas,
I hear, made the 49ers 11 1/ 2-point favorites before they took off their
uniforms.
Let us not mince words: The 49ers do not play football, they teach it.
They take NFL teams that have done well, teams such as Minnesota, which won
the NFC Central, and the Rams, who knocked off Philly and the Giants in
successive playoff weeks, and they make them look like first-graders.
This is the pass.
This is the run.
This is how you play defense.
This is how you board the plane for the Big Party. Got it?
"We feel great," said Bubba Paris, the massive offensive tackle who is
fond of poetry. "How would you feel if you were going to the Super Bowl? We
have a vision."
"Our mission is not complete," added Roger Craig, who must have felt like
Secretariat Sunday, the way he galloped up the muddy turf, for 93 yards. "We
want one more win."
It would hardly be a miracle finish. The 49ers -- who have won three of
the last eight Super Bowls -- don't rely on miracles. They draft them. This is
a team, don't forget, that lost its head coach last year. Usually, that takes
a little bite out of a franchise, doesn't it?
Instead, they came back with a better record under George Seifert (14-2)
than they had with Bill Walsh (10-6) in 1988. Their receiving corps keeps
growing -- Rice, John Taylor, now Mike Sherrard and Brent Jones. And their
defensive backs are beyond excellent.
"Is there a better secondary in the NFL than yours?" someone asked
cornerback Tim McKyer.
"I can't think of one," he said. He looked over at fellow cornerback Don
Griffin. "What about you, Grif?"
"I can't think of one, either."
"No. Guess not."
Guess not.
And Montana. Gosh. Did you watch him operate that hurry-up drill just
before halftime? It was a beautiful thing. Marched his team 87 yards in 181
seconds. Completed six straight passes and eight out of 10. Mixed in a run or
two. Went for the sidelines. Finished it off with a touchdown strike. And,
like a master pool hustler who leaves his opponent no good shot, he turned the
ball back to the Rams with nine seconds on the clock.
"It was our offensive line that made the difference," Montana said in
typical humility. True, he had enough time back there to do next year's
Christmas shopping. But you can't discount his eyes, his selection of
targets, his calm under fire. Watching Joe Montana operate is like watching a
surgeon slice a birthday cake. It looks that easy.
"The way Joe is going," said Paris, "his best game won't be the Super Bowl,
it'll be the Pro Bowl -- because he keeps improving every week."
Are you getting this all down, Denver? Do you see the once- proud Rams,
trudging back to the bus? Do you see Everett, who had been their miracle man,
mumbling on and on about his opponents? I hate to be a party poop. But if the
49ers don't come home with the Super Bowl trophy, it will only mean that their
bus got stuck in traffic.
And so it goes, as we head for the climax of another San Francisco
symphony. The answer for the Broncos this season was to get back to the Super
Bowl.
The question now becomes: Why bother?
COLUMN; PLAYOFF; FOOTBALL