By Joel Warner
By Michael Roberts
By Alan Prendergast
By Michael Roberts
By Michael Roberts
By Amber Taufen
By Patricia Calhoun
By William Breathes
This was the most tumultuous year in American sports history--O.J. Accused! Nuggets Beat Seattle! World Series Canceled!--but behind the screaming headlines lay a core of sheer absurdity.
Just two weeks ago, for instance, newspapers reported that June 17, 1994, the evening that fugitive O.J. Simpson led three dozen police cars and the entire rapt nation on that low-speed chase over the freeways of Los Angeles, produced the single busiest hour of delivery orders in what was termed "U.S. pizza history." Hooray! All hail the purveyors of pepperoni. It also came to light that the former football star signed his famous semi-suicide note with a little smiley face. Meanwhile, the judge in the Simpson case, Lance Ito, did a five-part interview series with an L.A. TV station. Can a three-year contract with Paramount be far behind? And the restaurant where Ron Goldman worked and Nicole Brown Simpson ate dinner before being stabbed to death is booked solid until...well, until the Reverend Rosey Grier comes out of retirement to play for an expansion club.
Little matter: Simpson's all-pro team of lawyers could fill the place every night for years. Meanwhile, O.J. allegedly was framed by the Mafia.
More absurdity? Your Denver Broncos, relieved of postseason duties for the first time since the Punic Wars, managed to go 0-5 in 1994 against the despised Los Angeles Raiders--including two beatings last January and a summer exhibition loss in Barcelona. While Al Davis cackles away up there in his skybox, Wade Phillips had better watch his back: The Donks' 0-4 start was bad enough, but folding the tents against the Silver and Black is unforgivable.
So were the foul balls of major-league baseball.
The season got under way gloriously, fueled by an official horsehide, now sewn in Costa Rica, reputed to have a family of rabbits in it. By mid-season, no fewer than four sluggers--Seattle's Ken Griffey Jr., the Giants' Matt Williams, Houston's Jeff Bagwell and White Sox first baseman Frank Thomas--were threatening Roger Maris's 33-year-old single-season home-run record. In Baltimore Cal Ripken was chasing Lou Gehrig's consecutive game mark, and San Diego's exemplary Tony Gwynn was flirting with .400.
Then it all came tumbling down. Intransigent owners and spoiled players dug in their heels, and on August 12 this scintillating season screeched to a halt. For the first time since 1904, the World Series was canceled (the World Series!), and millions of alienated fans won't give a damn if there's no 1995 season, either.
Absurdity is our theme, is it not? No sooner had baseball slapped its faithful down than several owners, including the Rockies' Jerry McMorris, hiked ticket prices. Some gall. While we're at it, witness the response of San Francisco outfielder Barry Bonds, who is paid $4.75 million a year by his club. Out on strike, he pled poverty to a judge, asking that his $15,000-per-month child-support payments be cut in half.
Meanwhile, Ken Burns's public-TV series on the history of the game ran longer than the season.
This was not the only glory in an ignominious year. The Dallas Cowboys won their second straight Super Bowl (as Buffalo dropped its fourth), but they lost their coach, Jimmy Johnson. Paul Azinger brought tears to the eyes of the golf world when he returned to the PGA tour after a bout with cancer; Arnold Palmer did it when he played his last Masters. Tiger Woods--young, gifted and black--gave the game a long-overdue shot in the arm with his win in the U.S. Amateur. In November heavyweight George Foreman, an inspiration to all dreamers, cast out his demons by knocking out champion Michael Moorer in the tenth round.
"He should never have stood in front of me," the 45-year-old, 250-pound Foreman said. Indeed.
Everyone said the U.S. Ski team was awful, but downhiller Tommy Moe, once cut for smoking pot, won the gold medal at the Lillehammer Olympics. Then Diann Roffe-Steinrotter, winless since 1985, took the gold in Super G. U.S. speed skater Bonnie Blair shone at Lillehammer, and hard-luck case Dan Jansen finally got the medal monkey off his back.
Colorado basked in glories, too. Last spring the Denver Nuggets pulled off the biggest upset in NBA playoff history by beating top-seeded Seattle in seven games, then took Utah the distance in round two before the Mailman and John Stockton did them in. Mount Mutombo and the Dream stand tall this season, but Issel's revitalized Nuggs won't sneak up on anyone.
In Boulder, CU tailback Rashaan Salaam (the third-best player on his team by preseason estimates) ran away with the school's first-ever Heisman trophy, capping an extraordinary season. Earlier, the Miracle in Michigan, a last-ditch bomb thrown by Kordell Stewart to Michael Westbrook, gave the Buffs a win over the Wolverines, and they rode that cloud all the way to Lincoln, where the Nebraska Cornhuskers thwarted them again. Coach Bill McCartney suddenly retired (that vacant Hank Brown Senate seat may look better than an Orange Bowl bid) and, in keeping with our motif, Jesse Jackson fumed when golden boy Rick Neuheisel was named to replace McCartney.