Hubert Mizell
Just when it seemed they had nothing to cheer about, Tampa Bay's hungry fans stood and yelled in apparent joy. Their Bucs were fighting the Cleveland Browns. Literally. The game was lost, but the boxing was just beginning. The Bucs won the fight, I suppose, on a disqualification since two Browns — Brian Duncan and Larry Poole were ejected from the ring err, playing field.

Duncan lifted his helmet in mock salute and waved as Tampa Stadium sang out boos. Poole followed. Seconds later, the game ended. In football, it was Cleveland by a KO. "l didn't even know who that guy was from Tampa," the running back said later in the Browns' dressing room. "But he kept hitting me in the back and holding me by the ankles. Then he popped me behind the head."

That’s when according to Duncan, he began throwing right hooks and left uppercuts at his unidentified enemy. "l don't know who that guy was, but he's….

A broad-cheated young black man in a rose-colored dress shirt appeared at Duncan's He extended his right paw for a handclasp. "I'm Bert Cooper, No.56 from the Buccaneers' said the visitor. "I'm the guy who got into the fight with you. Are you okay? I just had to come over and square things. You feelin' okay?"

Duncan's face showed he was flabbergasted. Seconds before, the youngster from SMU had been saying unkind words about "that guy," who obviously was the Bucs' 240-pound rookie linebacker from Florida State University. "Yeah, I'm okay," he said.

Cooper continued to cling with a soul handshake and said, "l hope you guys get that wild card playoff spot. Good luck to you. God's speed to you and your team."

The big guy departed. "Now that's something," Duncan then said, shaking his just-washed curly head. "That takes an awfully big man to come over here and say that."

Duncan motioned to two sports writers. "Hey, why don't you write something about that? That shows you can walk away with the wrong impression about a guy you're tussling with on a football field. "I think that man Bert Cooper may have made a friend, a friend for a long, long time."

Despite the Cooper-Duncan patchup of feelings, several Tampa Bay players complained about what they considered questionable tactics on the Browns' part.

Defensive end Pat Toomay, in his seventh National Football League season, said he noticed Cleveland players "going for the Achilles heel." The former Dallas and Buffalo starter added, "One or two of them told (Bucs defensive tackle) Dave Pear that, 'We haven't got your knee yet, but we will.'

"They weren't doing anything against the rules but I would say such attempts are morally wrong." Pear said two Browns went after his knees and, "if I had had a gun, I would have shot them both in the head."

Cooper's trip to Cleveland's dressing room, which was wall-to-wall with dripping athletes and note-scribbling porters, was admirable. It had apparently been a heat-of-battle thing. Whether they will admit it or not, most spectators whether watching football, hockey, baseball, basketball or soccer — get a strange enjoyment out of an occasional fight. It was certainly the most stirring thing that happened to Tampa Bay followers after halftime Sunday.

I don’t think that's sick or anything. Almost no-one relishes seeing an athlete hurt from rowdyism on the field, but I didn't catch a soul looking the other way in disgust when tempers arose Sunday. Cheap shots, attempts to purposely injure an opponent are something else. In no way am I suggesting the Browns were guilty, nor the angels, but it flips my stomach anytime to see under-the-table shots that wipe out players.

Lee Roy Selmon of Tampa Bay went down with a battered knee against Baltimore early in the season. Films showed it may have been an on-purpose shot that crippled the most promising rookie in the NFL. Nobody needs that. A player convicted of such deeds should be suspended or, in more serious cases, barred. A coach convicted of encouraging same should be no less guilty. Didn't somebody say once that this was supposed to be a game?