Franchise Fouts Gets a Partner: Gary Anderson

Ahhhh. What a perfect afternoon for football. High of about 80, cooled occasionally by a gentle breeze from the unseen ocean. A wispy cloud or two. A few hundred fans in shirt sleeves and shorts, some wearing shoes.

This is the sunshine time of year for the Chargers, when the offense is unstoppable and the defense is impenetrable.

After all, this is July.

And this was a scrimmage with the Rams, an exercise simultaneously meaningful and meaningless. It was important to youngsters with dreams, hoping to avoid playing their way to a one-way trip on the waiver wire. But it was totally meaningless in terms of what one team may or may not have done to the other.

Indeed, if it meant anything at all, why was Dan Fouts standing there wearing a golf shirt, shorts and sandals? And why would Fouts be distractedly watching those airplanes roaring overhead?

Rolf Benirschke, standing nearby, looked at the quarterback and smiled.

“We shouldn’t let Dan wear shorts,” he mused. “Not with those legs.”

Fouts, of course, does not possess the sturdiest of legs. His head and his heart have produced those 37,492 passing yards, and the total would be much higher but for those occasions when the legs betrayed him.

And his courage also comes into play.

Now one of those daring pilots took his plane straight up into the sky, leaving a streak of exhaust perpendicular to the horizon. These were the vaunted Blue Angels, and this fellow was into one of the most breathtaking of maneuvers. He took it to the top, came out in a loop and plunged straight toward the ground. He pulled out of this dive beyond what seemed sensible as a last possible second.

Fouts had been watching, transfixed.

“Damn,” he said.

Perhaps it was particularly astonishing to him because he had gone along for a ride one day when one of the Blue Angels pilots had executed just such a stunt.

Fouts did not seem to think the ride itself was quite that scary, but seemed awed by merely watching.

Of course, Fouts can relate to waiting, waiting, waiting until beyond that last possible second. He does that on the football field, where folks like Howie Long loom menacingly in front of his helmet.

Danger is relative, to be sure, but the Chargers are determined to protect this man Fouts. He is The Franchise.

However, Dan Fouts may have to share that title. Another athlete is emerging as a talent nonpareil.

This man is Gary Anderson.

Anderson caught a pass in the right flat during the scrimmage and turned up-field. A Ram cornerback cut him off at the knees with a crunching tackle, this occurring in the midst of what was supposedly a noncontact passing drill.

“Aaaggghhhh!” growled the gathered Chargers as they watched from the sideline. This hit perturbed them, and they continued to grumble in the surliest of manners.

Standing nearby was Ed White, who only recently made the transformation from old player to young coach. He was talking with Don Macek, the veteran center who was still a day away from reporting.

“I heard that a guy hit Gary low in practice and a couple of coaches were pretty upset,” Macek said, looking to White for confirmation.

“Hey,” said White, shaking his head and flashing his cherubic smile, “you’re talking The Franchise.”

This is quite a statement coming from Mr. White, whose best friend may well be Mr. Fouts. He was not, of course, suggesting that the importance of Dan Fouts has in any way lessened, but rather underscored the potential impact of this man Anderson on the National Football League.

Recall what the Raiders’ Lester Hayes had to say about Anderson last year?

“Gary Anderson is the best back in the National Football League right now,” Hayes said. “He’s the second coming of Gayle Sayers, only faster. He’s unbelievable. He’s stupendous.”

Consider that Hayes was making his observations after Anderson’s sixth game in the NFL. And consider that Anderson had had no training camp because of the lengthy hassle to secure his services from the United States Football League.

Though Hayes may have seemed a little over-zealous at the time, it may be that Lester is one astute judge of heretofore unheralded talent. This man just may have a future in scouting.

For the time being, however, Hayes and other NFL defenders will have to concern themselves with stopping Gary Anderson.

Indeed, the Ram cornerback who drew the wrath of the Chargers Thursday afternoon was probably the most surprised guy on the field when he actually tackled Gary Anderson. The passing drill was basically old-fashioned two-handed touch and the Rams were rarely close enough to lay a finger on this elusive man.

Long possessors of one of the NFL’s most progressive (and prolific) offenses, the Chargers acquire new dimension with Gary Anderson.

In fact, Air Coryell is dead. That is too narrow a definition for an offense which can travel so swiftly and imaginatively both in the air and on the ground.

Gary Anderson can--and will--move the ball as either a runner or a receiver.

Indeed, when the Rams had the ball on one occasion Thursday, Charger offensive coordinator Ernie Zampese wandered over and asked me if I wanted to call a play.

I laughed. That would be easy.

“Get the ball to Gary Anderson,” I suggested.

Zampese grinned.

Meanwhile, in those blue skies above, the Blue Angels continued to soar. Dan Fouts watched them. He had flown in one of those jets--and piloted Air Coryell.

But times have changed. With Gary Anderson joining the likes of Charlie Joiner, Kellen Winslow, Wes Chandler and Lionel James, among others, Fouts once again will be at the controls of something special.

Call this one the Star Wars offense.