Etched in team lore, then hit by cruelest of fates
For most of the past four decades, it seemed that Dwight Clark had been sprinkled with lucky dust. That he had a golden horseshoe stuck somewhere on his body. Over the years, Clark would agreeably acknowledge that life had, indeed, been pretty good to the handsome kid out of Kinston, N.C. But life has abruptly reversed course. Clark, who will be honored on Sunday at Levi’s Stadium, is suffering one of the cruelest fates of the human condition. He revealed last spring that he had been diagnosed with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis — Lou Gehrig’s disease.
His condition is deteriorating. The man
who became famous for touching the sky as he leaped to catch a touchdown pass is confined to a wheelchair.
It is heartbreaking. A reminder that no one is immune from the ravages of disease and physical disability.
There is precious little magic around the 49ers these days. Sunday, when the 49ers take on the Cowboys — a matchup forever changed by Clark’s catch — there will be reflections on that most idyllic, Camelot-like, of times for the team.
Thirty-eight members of San Francisco’s 1981 championship team will be on hand, along with 20 other former 49ers players. Various proceeds will go to the “Golden Heart Fund,” which supports 49ers alumni in need of assistance.
Also expected at the ceremony: Eddie DeBartolo Jr., Carmen Policy, several former employees, and Everson Walls, the Cowboy who will forever be frozen in time below Clark, hand outstretched to try to stop history.
Joe Montana will speak at halftime, to pay tribute to Clark.
“About his personality, the joy he brought to the whole Bay Area,” Montana recently said on a podcast with NBC Sports. “His personality lends itself to a light atmosphere all the time. No matter how down somebody was, he could get you to smile and laugh.”
Clark was drafted in the 10th round of the 1979 draft, back when there were 10 rounds. Bill Walsh had traveled to Clemson to work out quarterback Steve Fuller. Clark was at the workout to catch Fuller’s passes. Walsh liked what he saw in the 6foot-4 receiver.
Walsh was one of the few who saw Clark’s potential. The only other teams to work him out were the Steelers and the Chiefs. The Cowboys had labeled Clark “undraftable.”
He came into camp with a skinny guy named Montana who — according to a hilarious recounting by the parties involved — Clark originally mistook for the kicker. The quarterback and receiver quickly bonded. They roomed together, pulled pranks on teammates, and tried to hide from the coaches, always afraid they were about to be cut from the team at any moment.
They weren’t. Though there were other key figures, most notably Walsh, who were responsible for the 49ers’ rise, Montana and Clark became the image of the team. The dashing duo: Montana, the cool gunslinger, and Clark, the affable country boy with the movie star looks.
Montana recounted that the late Freddie Solomon had nicknamed Clark “Hercules.” In Roman mythology, Hercules was known for his strength and his many adventures. That was how Clark’s teammates viewed him.
Last spring, at a touching ceremony at City Hall to announce the naming of streets in the Candlestick Point housing development, Clark was suffering but still got up to speak. He spoke about “The Catch,” and described what a perfect, right-on-the-money pass it was from Montana, just high enough where only Clark could get it.
Clark said that Montana suggested — given how the receiver felt about the perfection of the pass — the play should probably be remembered as “The Throw.”
“Give me my one play!” Clark joked.
There was more than the one play. For nine years, wearing No. 87, Clark caught passes — 506 of them, resulting in 48 touchdowns.
But that one play would come to define him, would change his life forever. Never the fastest or most talented athlete, Clark made the right play at the right moment to become an instant legend. To become a beloved part of history.
Walsh had called “sprint right option.” Solomon was the primary receiver, but he slipped coming off the line, so the timing of the play was screwed up. But Walsh had his offense practice the play since training camp and Montana knew that Clark should be getting open.
Montana let go of the ball and was pushed to the ground by Larry Bethea. He didn’t know what happened until he came off the field and equipment manager Chico Norton ran up to him.
“Boy, your buddy saved your ass,” Norton said to Montana. “He jumped out of the stadium.”
It was as though Clark had sprouted wings. A moment of pure magic.