McMahon Shows He Can Be Obnoxious Even After Winning

The taxi had trouble weaving through the pedestrians, particularly when the people who mobbed the boulevard noticed that the passenger in the back seat was Jim McMahon, quarterback of the Bears, on his way to the Superdome. McMahon had not gone with the team. He went his own way.

The passersby whacked the cab on the hood and hollered for McMahon to roll down the window, which he did. Then they slapped his outstretched palm. In the locker room before Sunday’s NFL championship game against the New England Patriots, McMahon’s teammates took quick looks to see how, and what, their wacky quarterback was doing. Loose, tight, healthy, hurting--they needed to know. “He had music going,” wide receiver Ken Margerum said. “Jim doesn’t feel pressure. He’s oblivious to it. He was so relaxed, it was more like an exhibition game than a Super Bowl.”

“He was cool,” Walter Payton said. “Cool as usual.”

The pain in McMahon’s backside had gone away. In the morning, at the hotel, he had been Novocained and needled one more time by Hiroshi Shiriashi, the Japanese acupunturist who had blind-sided the quarterback all week long. “Little Hiroshi did me right,” McMahon testified later. “I felt great out there.”

The second pain in McMahon’s backside, the published accounts of his night-crawling on Bourbon Street, his mooning of a helicopter and his unverified description of New Orleans women as “sluts,” were out of sight and out of mind, just so long as one more football game remained to be played. McMahon said he did not give those things a second thought. Center Jay Hilgenberg, on behalf of the rest of the Bears, said: “We weren’t worried about what he was doing or saying during the week. We knew he’d be ready for the game. He just makes it more fun.”

McMahon slipped into his pads, white road jersey, dark stretch pants, gloves--which he found so comfortable that he elected even to wear them indoors--and first headband of the day, the one he wore as he jogged through a gauntlet of cheerleaders for the pre-game introductions. “JDF CURE,” this one read. It represented the Juvenile Diabetes Foundation.

McMahon said he had been sent hundreds of headbands by fans. “I decided to stick with the ones for charity,” he said. A duffel bag containing “at least 20 or 25” headbands was placed near the Bear bench, so that periodically during the game, McMahon could slip into something new, like the “POW/MIA” one dedicated to American prisoners of war still missing in action.

But dozens of the headbands remained unused, because McMahon’s tour of duty in Super Bowl XX turned out to last a little less than three full periods. By then, Chicago was well on its way to a record-breaking 46-10 win, the most lopsided Super Bowl ever, and McMahon was no longer needed. He already had rushed for two touchdowns, something no Super Bowl quarterback had ever done, and passed for 256 yards.

The last headband McMahon had a chance to wear on the Louisiana Superdome field was one inscribed “PLUTO.” That one was for Danny Plater, probably McMahon’s closest friend, who was one of his wide receivers at Brigham Young and gifted enough to be claimed by the Denver Broncos in the fourth round of 1982’s college draft.

But then came the brain tumor that ended Plater’s career and threatened his life. Today, the guy McMahon calls Pluto spends much of his time at USC’s medical school, not visiting doctors but trying to become one. “He had two operations in two years, and radiation (treatment), and he’s very lucky to be alive,” McMahon said after the game. “I love him. The boy just keeps hangin’ on.”

Perhaps this explained why McMahon was a little wistful, a little withdrawn and distracted, after the game. While it was clear in several of his remarks that he was tired of talking to the press, McMahon also was unusually dispirited, almost as if the Bears had just lost by 36 points.

He set an official Super Bowl record for World’s Longest Shower, then finally emerged for a press conference with a snide aside, to a public relations man: “How long do I have to spend out here and do this (bleep)?” Defensive back Raymond Clayborn of the Patriots had, at that moment, been standing nearby, saying: “I think Jim McMahon is a good field general, but it is good class to be a gracious winner, and he has no class at all.”

McMahon walked past. “Go talk to him,” Clayborn said. “He’s the man right now, even though he is a jerk.”

The Bear quarterback was just sliding into a pair of white-framed sunglasses with black-and-white checkerboard lenses and bands in back that dangled onto his neck like braids. On the back of his white sweatshirt was a yellow crescent moon, circled in red with a diagonal slash through it, as with highway “No Parking” signs. No Mooning, in this case.

“How do you feel?” a happy-sounding reporter shouted out.

McMahon looked drawn, annoyed. “It’s not the kind of feeling I thought it would be. I’m supposed to be on top of the world. But the way I feel right now, it was just another ball game.”

About how he had played in the game, McMahon said: “I’m not into describing myself. You guys got imaginations. Use them.”

About how the week had gone: “I don’t feel like talking about that. I’m just glad this week’s up.”

About the choice of most valuable player--in which a panel gave 6 votes to defensive end Richard Dent, 3 to McMahon and 1 to linebacker Mike Singletary--McMahon said: “I don’t vote on that stuff. Richard played good. I’m just glad we won.”

Not a trace of a smile. The only remotely joyful remark McMahon made had to do with William Perry, the Chicago fatback, who scored a rushing touchdown. “I’m happy for Fridge,” McMahon said. “He’s a household word. Hopefully, he can stick to defense next year.”

McMahon actually said he was sorry that the Bears fell short of a couple of goals, on offense and defense, in a game that they won by 46-10. “I was hoping to see that goose egg that Otis Wilson predicted. We really wanted that shutout,” McMahon said. And later: “We were going for 60 points. That was our goal. We wanted to get at least 50 points and we were hoping for 60.”

McMahon also said Chicago punted two or three times and that was two or three too many to suit him.

Three of Chicago’s points should not even have counted, since time should hve expired before a last-second field goal was kicked before halftime.

“That’s their problem,” McMahon said, referring to the Patriots, when asked what he thought about that play.

If he was in a good mood, he refused to reveal it. Asked how he thought he might celebrate or spend the next few weeks, McMahon said: “I just want to think about getting out of here. I don’t want to worry about doing any more of these press conferences.”

He had played a pain-free and near-perfect game, goofing only once, when he ran a slant play to the wrong side and watched Walter Payton fumble the ball way to the Patriots. Otherwise, it was a good day all the way for McMahon, who conceded that perhaps this would sink in later on.

Coach Mike Ditka said of him: “McMahon put a lot of critics to rest. He is our trigger man and I love him. He’s got the guts of a burglar.”

Ditka slapped McMahon’s back as he passed by. McMahon barely managed a smile. Otis Wilson said: “Sweet, Jimbo.” McMahon winced and said: “OK, Big O.”

Margerum watched the commotion around the quarterback and shook his head. “He’s something, isn’t he?” Margerum said. “He thought about wearing a headband that said ‘SLUT,’ but he decided to show some class.”