|
|
 |
NFL players may wear name-plated shirts primarily to make them easily identifiable to spectators. But for the downtrodden pass defenders of the Miami Dolphins, monikered jerseys fulfill another need: They allow their Dolphin teammates to know who they are. The injury bug, which has ravaged the Dolphins in epidemic proportions, seems to have taken a personal vendetta against the secondary.
Two of Miami's frontline pass-swatters had been kayoed already this year, so it was par for the course. When cornerback Jeris White went down while making a tackle and did not immediately get up — on the very first offensive snap Sunday by the Tampa Bucs, Dick Anderson ran onto the field as a replacement. Now the sight of Dick Anderson running is enough to force a grin upon the normally stone-faced Dolphins. And some hours later, the sight of Anderson running with a football must have made Miamians felt like jumping for joy.
ANDERSON, subbing for White the entire game, intervened on a Steve Spurrier pass to a white-shirted Bay Buc buddy, intercepted it and played keep-away with the ball as he skittered 42 official yards and probably 50 more sideways, luring the clock down to 13 seconds. Only then was Miami convinced that it would flee with a 23-20 victory and free itself of a three-game losing binge.
Anderson is unique in that he doesn't need a nametag.
For one reason, he is bald, and shiny pates are a rarity in the NFL. For another, he once had a mighty streak of his own, playing in 108 straight games and a heap of Pro Bowls. But until last Sunday, he had been absent in 19 previous Dolphin games. "(Retiring) crossed my mind, I guess," he said. "It’s kinda discouraging to get (a knee) operated on three times in a year. But I still think I can play."
Were it not for Anderson's interception, Coach Don Shula may have sentenced the secondary to walking back to Miami. Three Bay Buc flame-throwers scorched the Dolphins with 19 completions in 28 flings and three touchdowns, all of them (irony here) to Morris Owens. The Bucs obtained him from Miami.
ON THE BUCS' final series, four guys who hardly know each other despite 26 years of combined NFL experience finally got their signals straight. "We had all our people (pass defenders) on the outside," said Anderson, "so he (Spurrier) had to go to the middle." In this case, "middle" is spelled Anderson.
Anderson's partner in theft, Ken Ellis, said, "Seems like every week we have somebody new in the secondary. It's hard to get your cohesiveness."
Anderson predicted a brighter day for the Dolphins defense when "we can play together 11 people two weeks in a row."
Anderson was not the only hairless hero for the Dolphins. Garo Yepremian, who has lost his locks during 10 years in the trenches, snapped the 20-20 tie on a field goal with a minute left. Like every boot Sunday (two extra points, three field goals and a fourth refused), it soared over the crossbar virtually equidistant from each upright.
"IN MY ROOKIE year, my knees would be shaking, my wrists would be twitching," said the left-footed Cypriot. "Now know I'm gonna make them. I've been in situations before like this and I made it, so why can't I do it now?"
Beyond Garo's footwork and Anderson's handicraft, the Dolphins had no urge to slap hands in celebration. "They played very well and we didn't," said quarterback Bob Griese. "We won” grunted Shula, "and that's about all you can say”.
Shula had no idea who the Bucs would serve up as signal-caller. They originally went with Parnell Dickinson — "the young quarterback," as Shula referred to him — but later tried Terry Hanratty and Steve Spurrier. Few of their passes had any particular difficulty in finding friendly hands until Anderson's steal.
As Anderson was recreating his feat for reporters, Shula walked by and chided, "I could have intercepted that ball but I couldn't have run it back that way." Anderson laughed. He is merely grateful to be running. Period.
|
|
|
| |
| |
|