<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<BODY.CONTENT>
<UID>
9501040624
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
950130
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Monday, January 30, 1995
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL CHASER
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
SPT
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1C
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>

</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>
SUPER BOWL XXIX
</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1995, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
FOREVER YOUNG
WHAT'S THE POINT? 49ERS SO SUPER, THEY KEEP GAME
FROM BEING SAME
</HEADLINE>
<SUBHEAD>

</SUBHEAD>
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</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
MIAMI --  Well, that was some Super Bowl, wasn't it, complete with
brutal collisions, diving catches and narrow escapes? I am speaking, of
course, of the halftime show. The game itself was slow  in getting started
since the 49ers were being fitted for rings while still in the tunnel.

  Hail, Steve. Hail, Jerry. Hail a cab. With apologies to the new NFL
champions, was there ever a more pointless  finale? Was there ever a Super
Bowl where for two weeks every reporter, analyst, talk show host and bartender
said the exact same thing -- the 49ers will eat 'em for breakfast -- and they
were still understated?

  This wasn't football, it was a swearing-in ceremony. And no one dared
interrupt, least of all the San Diego Chargers, who, near as we can tell, were
sent to play this game because they insulted somebody very important in the
NFL front office.
  The 49ers -- who by the end were playing the third string, the fourth
string and the kitchen staff -- were quick and lethal, scoring quicker  than
any team in Super Bowl history, a touchdown in the first 84 seconds, or about
the time it took America to realize there was no reason to videotape this
game. The 49ers were led by Steve (Joe Who?)  Young, who threw so many
touchdowns he got one free, and Jerry (God) Rice, who caught three touchdowns
and dedicated the night to the guiding force in his career, Breathe Right Nose
Patches.
  The  Chargers? Well, they had one excellent opportunity. Unfortunately, it
came during the national anthem, when the NFL exploded 10,000 fireworks in a
desperate attempt to snuff out Kathie Lee Gifford's  singing voice. The field
was momentarily covered in smoke, and San Diego could have used this chance to
escape.
  When your best play is a punt roll, why stick around?
  Unfortunately, the Chargers  chose to stay and play. As ideas go, this was
up there with converting all your U.S. dollars to Mexican pesos. There was one
play, in the third quarter, in which a San Diego person actually sacked Steve
Young, but the referees blew the whistle and declared the play
"inappropriate."
  I am kidding. But not by much. What was the score, 49-26? I know there was
an imbalance between the conferences. I  didn't know AFC stood for "Another
Freakin' Catastrophe."
  "We knew we were gonna kick their butts all week," said the 49ers' Deion
Sanders, who, according to eyewitnesses, nearly broke a sweat in  this game.
"We knew it, but we just couldn't say it. Now we can. We beat the hell out of
them."
  Tell us how you really feel.
  Hail, Steve. Hail, George.
  Hail a cab.
  "You talk about this,  you talk about it, but when you finally do it, it's
hard to describe how you feel," gushed Young, who became the first man voted
unanimous MVP of the Super Bowl before the first commercial break. "I  hope
this answers all the questions about me."
  How could it not? True, we've been predicting this blowout from the moment
San Francisco knocked off the Dallas Cowboys, who would only have beaten  the
Chargers by 22 points. But still, people wondered about Young in The Big Game.
Would he finally be able to bury the ghost of Joe Montana, who had won four of
these things in a 49ers uniform? 
  Well, Young didn't bury the ghost -- he came after it with a hatchet. He
was  Max von Sydow in "The Exorcist," Bill Murray in "Ghostbusters" and the
lady who chased the monsters away in "Poltergeist"  all rolled into one. He
had a silver bullet, a wooden cross, garlic around his neck and an Uzi. With
49 yards, he not only was the leading rusher in the Sunday's game -- the
leading rusher? -- but he  completed 24 of 36 passes for 325 yards. And when
he threw for his sixth touchdown, thereby eclipsing a Montana record, he
raised his arms in exultant triumph, and then we learned something we never
knew about one Steve Young:
  His father's name is Grit.
  This would explain why he says "Hi, mom."
  Son of a Grit?
  "Steve Young is the greatest quarterback in the history of the NFL, and
this proves it," said Sanders, who actually tried to catch one of Young's
passes.  This was in second half, when most of America was tuned to "Beavis
and Butt-head." George Seifert sent Deion in for  the one pass play he'd been
begging for all year, and Deion raced past the defender, went up in the air --
 and the ball was knocked away by a safety.
  Incomplete. This, however, will not prevent  the play from being released
as a new Deion video, coming to stores near you next week.
  As for Deion's future with the 49ers -- now that he has achieved his dream
of winning a championship in something other than the Bausch & Lomb Sunglasses
Competition?
  "I have every intention of being back with the 49ers next year. But right
now, I'm feeling mellow. I just want to go home and relax with my friends
here."
  I looked at some of Deion's friends, once my eyes got used to the glare,
and one of them was wearing -- and I'm not kidding here -- two giant earrings,
three bracelets and a golden calculator  around his neck.
  I'm still trying to figure that one out.
  Anyhow, let's not stop at Deion. Let's throw hosannas to the whole 49ers
team, including the incomparable Jerry Rice, who had 10 catches  and a third
Super Bowl ring, and Ricky Watters, who scored three touchdowns, and Seifert,
who can stop worrying about that guy named Walsh, and of course the most
important person in the 49ers organization,  the man who signs the checks,
Eddie DeBartolo.
  He proved, once again, that intelligence and money will take you past
almost every team in the NFL. He spends for the little things --  such as
individual  hotel rooms on the road for his players -- and he spends for the
big things,  such as Ken Norton, Sanders, Rickey Jackson, et al.
  "From the very start, he made us feel appreciated here," Norton said,  "and
we wanted to return the favor."
  You get what you pay for.
  Unless you paid for a ticket. This was a stinker, as most Super Bowls tend
to be, however, it did feature live snakes. Once again,  I am talking about
the halftime show, not the San Diego offense.
  What about those Chargers? Well, the best we can say for them is they have
nice uniforms. Other than that, they threw three interceptions,  allowed six
touchdowns and came out with a defense that seemed designed to give its
players the best view of 49ers catches -- without ever having to, you know,
stop anything.
  "We played lousy," Bobby  Ross, their coach, admitted.
  Well, you have to feel for the Chargers. Never has a team heard  so many
critics say, "You can't win, you can't win" and stared them back in the face
and said, "You're  right." 
  And so the 49ers win their fifth Super Bowl in the last 14 years, while the
Lions are still waiting to get back to a big game. Such is the balance of
power. It was President Clinton, calling  on his cellular phone, who told
DeBartolo, "I haven't met anyone in America who resents the success the 49ers
have had."
  Obviously, he hasn't visited Dallas lately.
  But in a way, he's right.  How can you resent intelligence, grace and
talent? You can't. This was the best team, winning the biggest game, and the
Chargers could do little more than watch. Hail, Steve. Hail Jerry. Hail,
Deion.  Hail a cab. The 49ers made history, made magic and answered every
question but one:
  How did Kathie Lee get this gig?
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