NFL legend impressive on and off field
49ers’ Clark, who died Monday, was college teammate of Rider great Walters
To see “The Catch,” which still grabs people, is to turn back the hands of time.
You don’t have to be an ardent fan of the NFL’S San Francisco 49ers, or even football in particular, to appreciate the classic connection between Joe Montana and Dwight Clark in the NFC championship game of Jan. 10, 1982. The launching point for the pass, and for a dynasty, was near the sideline as Montana lofted a pass toward the back of the end zone.
It momentarily appeared that Montana was throwing away the ball before Clark snatched it from the sky for a six-yard touchdown with 58 seconds remaining in the fourth quarter. Ray Wersching ’s convert put the 49ers ahead of the Dallas Cowboys 28-27. The lead endured, as did memories of “The Catch.”
The play was replayed countless times on Monday, when it was learned that Clark had died of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis — Lou Gehrig ’s disease — at age 61.
There was a torrent of tributes to Clark, all so well-deserved. Many of the fond reminiscences paid tribute to the man as well as the football player.
The reflections took me back to my teenage years, when everything revolved around football and my dog, Snowball.
There is Clark, making one of the greatest plays in football history. That moment is frozen in time, as is the image of Clark at age 24. It is difficult to reconcile that lasting image with the sad news that circulated on Monday.
Sometimes mortality and immortality do not connect as well as Montana and Clark.
There is an illogical notion, at least in this cluttered head space, that our heroes are not supposed to age.
Montana and Clark did not fall into the “hero” category for a younger me, given my lengthy allegiance to the Denver Broncos, but I nonetheless admired and respected the 49ers’ greats during their careers.
In fact, I wrote to both of them for autographs in the 1980s, and was delighted that they responded so obligingly. The conclusion was reached that Montana and Clark deserved to be beloved — an assessment that was based on a small personal interaction.
They must have been deluged with fan mail in those days, but nonetheless accommodated the requests. And, trust me, lesser players of that vintage weren’t nearly as inclined to respond.
As it turned out, there was another personal connection to Clark and Montana, in the form of legendary Saskatchewan Roughriders receiver Joey Walters.
Walters and Clark were teammates with the University of Clemson Tigers in 1975 and 1976. In 1977, Walters spent his first of six CFL seasons with the Green and White. Clark made his NFL debut two years later.
Trivia time: Also in 1979, Montana — then a rookie — threw his first NFL touchdown pass. It was caught by a tight end named Bob Bruer, who had played for Saskatchewan in 1977 and 1978. (Alas, Bruer caught the TD pass against Denver.)
With the 1979 Roughriders, Walters caught 40 passes for 772 yards and four touchdowns in only six games.
Suitably impressed, the 49ers signed Walters to a contract after his CFL deal expired early in 1980. It didn’t hurt that Clark, whom Walters described Tuesday as a “true friend,” could provide a reference to the 49ers’ brass. Walters was among the 49ers’ final cuts. It appeared that he had made the team before the New York Giants released Jimmy Robinson. The 49ers claimed him, citing a need for an experienced receiver, and released Walters.
It was a discouraging development for Walters, but one that helped him make Roughriders history. In 1981, No. 17 shattered the Roughriders’ single-season receiving-yardage record (1,715) and followed up with 1,692 the next year. Over those two years, he averaged 106.5 receiving yards per game.
Walters and Clark, as it turned out, both experienced breakout years during a football season that began in 1981.
Just as memorable, at least from this standpoint, was an opportunity to meet Walters a few months before the 1981 season began. The Roughriders were doing a promotion at the Golden Mile Shopping Centre. Walters was there, representing the team.
I walked over to him, hoping for a quick hello, and we ended up chatting for 45 minutes. Then he apologized for consuming so much of time. Well, that was it. In my eyes, the legend was born before the records began to fall. Those 45 minutes at the Golden Mile, near a long-forgotten ice cream stand, came to mind on Monday.
As people poured out their hearts about Dwight Clark, I was reminded of how heroes should carry themselves. I was also reminded of someone he knew — someone I am still blessed to know — and of cases where the person is as great as the player.
In that, there has to be some solace for those of us who believe in heroes.