<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<BODY.CONTENT>
<UID>
9301030064
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
930118
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Monday, January 18, 1993
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
SPT
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1C
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>

</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>

</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1993, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
THERE'S A NEW SHERIFF IN TOWN
</HEADLINE>
<SUBHEAD>

</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
SAN FRANCISCO --  Joe Montana, maybe the greatest quarterback ever, stood
on the sideline, clean as a marine during inspection. All around,  players
were drenched in mud, swallowing it, spitting  it, their numbers smeared and
camouflaged by it. Montana, still neatly pressed, crossed his arms and
shuffled his feet, his famous No. 16 as bright as a lighthouse beacon. This
was his time of day, late  afternoon. This was his time of game, fourth
quarter. But this was not his time. Not his. Not the 49ers'. Not anymore. 

  Instead, Montana, a backup quarterback now, watched as a Dallas passer with
 surfer-boy looks dropped back in the bog, found a receiver slanting across
the middle, a receiver wearing No. 80 -- over the middle? No. 80? In
Candlestick Park? -- and that receiver slipped a tackle  and raced 70 yards,
hoofing to within spitting distance of the goal line. Montana exhaled. He
turned away.

  And the foreign No. 80, Alvin Harper, wide receiver, who was still in
college the last time  Montana entered a playoff game, stood up and waved
defiantly to the 49ers' crowd. 
  There's a new sheriff in town.
  Destiny Does Dallas.
  "All the time I was running that play I was thinking  this is it, this is
it," Harper said after the catch that iced the NFC championship and led to the
Cowboys' 30-20 victory over the 49ers, their first NFC title since January
1979. "I was running out  of gas, that end zone kept looking farther and
farther and farther, but I kept saying, 'This is it, we're in the Super Bowl.
We're in the Super Bowl.' "
  They're in the Super Bowl. Dust off those  boots. Free the horse from the
barn. Here they come, back in the saddle, stars on their helmets, big old hats
on those big old heads on those big old necks in that big old state. Football
has come full circle. The era of Redskins and Giants and, yes, now the 49ers
is returned to the shelf. Joe Montana, who began his legend with a pass to
Dwight Clark to beat Dallas back in 1981 -- is trade bait.
  And the Cowboys franchise, which has always acted as if it belonged in the
Super Bowl -- even when it was as far from it as you can get -- is back at the
saloon door, kicking it open.
  There's a  new sheriff in town.
  Destiny Does Dallas.
  "Super Bowl, y'all, y'all, Super Bowl, y'all!" sang safety James
Washington, part of the best defense in the NFL, in the joyous locker room.
His teammates  threw towels. They acted as if they belonged, as if they were
expecting this. And if you doubt the Cowboys'  credentials -- or their chances
to beat two-time-loser-and-back-for-more Buffalo -- take a  look at what they
did Sunday to the 49ers, a team many considered the best in football:
  Out-rushed them, out-passed them. Made fewer mistakes. Held the ball
longer. Forced two interceptions, one  fumble. Scored touchdowns on three
drives of nearly 80 yards each.
  "How 'bout them Cowboys!" gushed Jimmy Johnson, their coach. "I thought
Troy Aikman did a fantastic job. I thought Emmitt Smith  did a great job. Who
can you say didn't do a great job for us today?"
  Hmm. Maybe the weatherman? Other than that, Dallas was a tightly wrapped
ball of power. The Cowboys won this title by staying  aggressive.  And you can
credit Johnson and his staff for that. Here's all you need to know: Fourth
quarter. Cowboys leading, 24-13. They could have played it safe with a
chip-shot field goal deep in  49ers' territory.  
  Instead, they went for it on fourth down, trying to close the show right
there. And Smith was stuffed for no gain.
  That might have unnerved lesser teams. Especially when the 49ers took that
mistake and marched downfield,  scoring a touchdown to close it to 24-20. But
here is the fiber of these Cowboys: On the next play, rather than run down the
clock, Aikman found Harper  on that slant, he was off like a racehorse, 70
yards, and the game was over. 
  Nerve? Guts? Stupidity?
  Championship.
  Destiny Does Dallas.
  "We play aggressive every week, that's our style,"  said Aikman, a
first-round draft pick, who threw for 322 yards and two touchdowns.
  "We respond well to pressure," said Smith, a first-round draft pick, who
had 114 yards rushing.
  "Our coach knows  how to win," said defensive tackle Russell Maryland, a
first-round draft pick who also played for Johnson on national championship
teams at Miami. "He's always been that way."
 
  Indeed, like 'em  or hate 'em, you must salute the job Johnson has done
molding this team in his image -- and picking from the draft pile. Of course,
it helps when you trade Herschel Walker for a barrel full of selections.  But
give Johnson his due. With no NFL experience, he took his Miami Hurricane
philosophy -- big plays, big players, take no prisoners -- and applied it
here. In four years, he has made the Super Bowl.
  "We got here with excellent coaching, and excellent motivation," crowed
Cowboys owner Jerry Jones. They also got here with his money. He paid for Plan
B free agents. He paid to get draft picks into  camp. He paid for top-flight
facilities. And he paid attention to his staff, whenever they wanted to trade
this guy, draft this guy, cut this guy.
  Case in point: Defensive lineman Charles Haley,  a malcontent with the
49ers. The Cowboys  basically stole him with a draft-pick trade earlier this
season. And on Sunday, here was Haley leaping to knock down a Steve Young pass
on third down deep in  Cowboys territory.
  "It's not personal, it's a team thing," Haley said after the win.
  But he was smiling.
  Destiny Does Dallas.
  A moment here for Joe Montana. As the clock ticked down and the 49ers
needed two touchdowns fast, you could almost hear his name being called in the
Frisco fog. "Put Montana in. Put Montana in."  That George Seifert would not
even give him a nod in that situation,  that  he stayed with Young, all the
way to his final interception  that slammed the door shut, shows you how far
things have come with this team.
  These are not the old days. The 49ers have now lost  two NFC championships
in the last three years -- both ending with Montana on the sideline -- and the
world's most famous quarterback is probably trade material. It seems unlikely
he will stay here if  he cannot play. He didn't do all that rehab to hold a
clipboard.
  But those who were thinking Montana could have saved this game obviously
didn't watch closely. The 49ers' defense gave up 30 points.  Every time Dallas
needed a big play, it got one. Hey. Montana can't play every position.
  No. If the better team didn't win, the gutsier team did. And you can't
knock  its pedigree. It's back to the  boots, folks. America's Team reborn.
Echoes of Staubach, and Pugh, and Too Tall Jones. Pull out the saddles.
Sunday was a changing of the guard, and years from now, it  might seem as
inevitable as rain. Destiny Does Dallas. They have the title -- and the stains
--  to prove it.
  "You know," Smith said, " I don't have problems with mud."
  What cowboy does?
</BODY>
<DISCLAIMER>

</DISCLAIMER>
<KEYWORDS>
COLUMN
</KEYWORDS>
</BODY.CONTENT>
