Why The Rams
I'm a little bit
under the weather today, so I'm going to re-post a story I sent to the Rampagers
list last year. I know this isn't in the same vein as my usual smart-alecky
rants, but it's honest and true to who I am at my core.
I only hope you here at Rams Nation, enjoy reading it, as much as I did writing
it.
Why The Rams?
I guess the easiest answer to
that question is that I grew up in Los Angeles, and like most local kids, I
grew an intensely loyal affinity for all local sports teams. Bottom line is,
the Rams were simply the NFL's representative in the Los Angeles market at that
time. Sure, it's a mini cop out to bring it down to it's most basic level like
that, but without starting there, the rest of the story would not have the proper
preface, and every story, no matter how grand it ends up, always has meager
beginnings.
My story, well...make that my first appearance in "our" story, goes
back to the late 60's, 1968 to be exact. Me? Just imagine a cross between Opie
Taylor and Eddie Munster, and you'll get a decent enough impression of what
I was like during that long ago fall. I was 6 years old and was only interested
in two things, those being Batman and the Monkees ( Hey, I was 6 years old...remember?
"lol" )
All in all, it was a strange time to be young I suppose. It was the time of
flower power, tricky Dick, civil unrest, and of course Vietnam. Timothy Leary
had people ""turning on, tuning in, and dropping out" and the
psychedelia culture was in full swing. On television, Green Acres was the place
to be, the Clampetts were still "down and out in Beverly Hills", and
the fickle finger of fate was being beamed to everyone from "beautiful
downtown Burbank" thanks to those notorious cultural subversives Dan Rowan
and Dick Martin over at the #1 show in America at the time, Laugh In.
I was just starting to get my first taste of sports, thanks to television and
radio, and as I look back on it now, I couldn't have been any luckier, because
the LA airwaves were filled with a plethora of legendary voices as I grew up.
The names themselves evoke waves of memories. There was Vin Scully, Chick Hearn,
Dick Enberg, Jim Healy, Gil Stratton, Tom Kelly, Bob Miller, and Stu Nahan to
name just a few. The magic they weaved with their words and descriptions brought
a little 6 year old boy who snuck his transistor radio under his pillow each
summer night, listening to the exploits of his heroes as he went to bed, into
worlds of championship dreams every night, where once asleep, he imagined himself
roaming the diamond at Chavez Ravine, standing on the gridiron of the LA Coliseum,
and running up and down the hardwood of the Fabulous Forum. I hold a special
place in my heart for all the gentlemen listed above, and also many I did not
mention above, Al Wisk, Bob Starr, Etc.. for they were artists that painted
the canvas of my imagination, and helped make that little boy the sports fan
he is today.
The 60's through the 70's were what are now considered the "golden age"
of Los Angeles sports history; it was simply a wondrous time for a young sports
fan to grow up...
The UCLA basketball Bruins, led by John Wooden, were in the middle of their
legendary run of titles, including 7 straight. The USC football Trojans, led
by John McKay, would win 3 national titles in 6 years from 1968-1974. The USC
baseball Trojans led by Rod Dedeaux were winning 7 national titles in 10 years
from 1968 to 1978. The Lakers, led by Hall Of Famers Jerry West, Elgin Baylor,
and Wilt Chamberlain, were in the NBA finals 9 times in 11 years from 1962-1973.
The Dodgers, led by hall of famers Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale, Don Sutton, Walter
Alston, and Tommy Lasorda, would visit the World Series 6 times.
Then, there were the Rams. Ahhh yes, the Rams. Where do I start? Hmmmmmm, let's
see....
His name was Charlie. He wasn't a sports fan himself per se, he was a father.
A father to a son who was fascinated and mesmerized by the things athletes could
do. He recognized early on my love for sports, and went out of his way to encourage
and promote my involvement. From my first baseball glove and t-ball exploits,
to the very first football game I ever had the pleasure to witness, he did his
best to let me experience the wonder and awe of sports with the limited resources
we had as a family.
I had first caught a glimpse of the Rams on the TV and vaguely understood the
game at that age, but boy, did the highlights and the stories I was beginning
to hear about the game and the team intrigue me. Well, doing what any normal,
precocious, adolescent, little boy would do, I immediately set forth on the
task of bugging the living bejesus out of my father, incessantly begging him
to take to see this game they called football. Between plugging his ears to
shut out my increasingly annoying whining, my dad in his usual manner, shrugged
his shoulders and wondered out loud, why I would preoccupy myself so much with
caring about a group of large sweaty men slapping each other around while fighting
over some air filled oblong object. I can still see him sitting at the kitchen
table long after they thought I had gone to bed, telling my mother " I
know the boy wants to go, but we just can't afford it right now" Times
were tough I remember, and there were quite a few "not right now's"
to follow, and although I wanted to see the Rams more than anything else I could
imagine, I wiped my many tears, and tried to understand as best a 6 year old
could.
Then came the day. A day on the face of it, exactly like any other during my
youth, but as it turned out, a day that would help shape and affect my life
to this day, and a day that most assuredly, will affect me for the rest of my
life.
My father came home early from work that day, and in his rough weathered hands
he said, was a surprise. As I sat next to him he handed me an envelope. He picked
me up, sat me on his lap, mussed my hair, and in a soft voice told me to open
it. I did and the beginnings of a now 34-year love affair fell gently into my
quivering hands. As I looked down at the two pieces of printed-paper in my hand,
I saw the words appear: Week 8 Los Angeles Rams vs. the Detroit Lions. Los Angeles
Memorial Coliseum. I started to cry, and as I looked up, I, for the first and
only time in my life, saw my father do the same.
Of course, the wait till the day of the game seemed like torture to a boy such
as myself, but finally the day came, and I remember vividly hopping into the
car with freshly packed sandwiches and other goodies my mom had packed, and
making our way down to Exposition Park.
Good lord! I remember the crowd of people! It was more people than I had ever
seen anywhere in my then short life. It was an extremely surreal scene to my
as yet unjaded eyes. All of it served to excite and imprint the feelings I still
feel today every Sunday morning in the fall. I literally feel like a kid waiting
and anticipating the kickoff of each Ram game. It makes me feel happy and alive
no matter what direction my life has taken or what emotional and physical landmines
I've stumbled over, and I would no doubt assume that fact, in and of itself,
is what sports, the men who play them, and the people who follow them, have
in common.
As we walked through those enormous gates of the coliseum, I could sense, even
as young as I was, that we were someplace special. My father took the opportunity
as we stood in line waiting to enter, to tell me about the history and legacy
of the ground we now stood upon. The 1932 Olympics, Babe Didrickson, The Rams,
USC, UCLA, The Dodgers, Etc... Looking at the grand old place now, you wouldn't
think much, but at one time, it was the centerpiece of American sporting culture.
It still is perhaps, the most recognizable sporting edifice in the world.
We walked threw the tunnels and I got my first glimpse of the field, and I was
snared, hook, line, and sinker.... indelibly and forever.
The Rams won the game that day 10-7, and from that day forward, have occupied
an irremovable piece of my heart.
Why of all the teams in the NFL, the Rams you ask? Well, you just read the preface
to the book, and there have been hundreds of chapters that have followed. Filled
with memories, good and bad, memories of life and love, joy and despair, life
incarnate.
Why do I love the Rams?
Watching James Harris after breaking through the line on a QB scramble, have
nothing but 40 yards of grass between himself and the Viking goaline in the
'74' championship game, only to watch the ball sail inexplicably out of his
hands with no Minnesota defender within 10 yards of him...
That's why
Watching the Rams in the same game, behind at the time, 7-3 late in the 3rd,
after driving 98 yards from the Minnesota 1 yard line, lining up third and goal,
6 inches from a probable Super Bowl berth, only to be called for illegal procedure
on the next play thus moving them back to the Minnesota 5, where then in horror
I watched as Harris' next pass was tipped and intercepted in the endzone by
Jay Hildenberg. To this day, Tom Mack STILL has not moved.
That's why
Watching Dave Elmendorf and Bill Simpson in the '76' divisional playoffs in
Dallas, level Billy Jo Dupree, after he catches a 4th down pass right at the
first down marker at the Rams 23, with the Rams leading 14-12 very late in the
4th quarter, then watching the officials bring the chains out and mark the ball
inches short, thus insuring payback for the '75' NFC championship debacle.
That's why
Watching Ron Jessie obviously break the plane of the goaline on a flanker reverse
on third down early in a scoreless tie in the '76' NFC championship game, only
to see the ball spotted at the 6 inch line ( the friggin 6 inch line in Minnesota
is Ramfan hell let me tell you ) Knox decides to kick the FG, and Nate Allen
blocks it, and Bobby Bryant runs it back 99 1/2 yards for a TD
That's why
Watching the Rams win 7 straight division titles
That's why
Watching Jack Youngblood intercept Jim Hart in a '75' divisional playoff game,
and seeing Fred Dryer block and crumple Dan Deirdorf like a piece of origami
on the ensuing runback for a TD
That's why
Lawrence of Los Angeles, AKA Lawrence McCutcheon, going for 202 yards in that
same game
That's why
"79" Youngblood, broken leg, playoff, super bowl, enough said.
That's why
Eric Dickerson
That's why
"85" divisional game... Rams 20 Dallas 0 Dickerson 248 yards
That's why
Flipper's run up the Meadowlands tunnel in '89'
That's why
The phantom sack in San Francisco (the sweet never tastes as good, without the
bitter)
That's why
17 in a row to the Niners
That's why
Ken Norton punching the goalposts
That's why
The emergence of a former Hy-Vee grocery bagger
That's why
A season in '99' so magical, so wondrous, so unexpected, that it will never
be matched by another NFL team, ever.
That's why
Marshall Faulk
That's why
Cullen Bryant
That's why
Royal blue and Schoolbus yellow
That's why
Good or bad, win or lose, succeed or fail, enough heart, character, and memories,
in the last 34 years, to fill a billion trophy cases and one 40 year old heart.
That's why
There are a million more reasons why, and I feel badly that I am going to slight
them by not mentioning them here, but I do not want to bore you any longer with
the weak kneed testimonies of this blubbering 40 year old, who manages to get
himself overly emotional where the horns are concerned
In closing...
I am a Rams fan, and this is my story.
Rudy
Any question, comments, please e-mail me: thound1@yahoo.com
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