Trouble’s Brewing for Chargers in the Meadowlands

If James A. Michener were to write a book about the place in New Jersey known as The Meadowlands, it would probably go something like this:

THE MEADOWLANDS

“In the beginning, there was primordial ooze. It tasted salty, undoubtedly because of the influence of the nearby sea. Vegetation was thick, though hardly tropical, thriving in the spring and summer when the ice thawed and the rains came. In this swamp lived Tyrone Rex, a dinosaur of magnificent proportions and surly temperament. He was king of The Meadowlands, and he made this a dangerous place to be. . . .”

Three hundred pages later:

“This was a peaceful area for the Delaware Indians, who enjoyed the summers just as Tyrone Rex enjoyed them so many millions of years before. Like Rex, they were not threatened by predators. At least they were not threatened before European adventurers landed, and the English and Dutch came to quarrel about land that was not really theirs to divide. This land, this swamp, they found easy to ignore. . . .”

Three hundred pages later:

“The United States of America was a country and New Jersey was a state, but The Meadows were left to the muskrats, deer and a dwindling population of bears. Everything important happened elsewhere, starting with George Washington’s chilled trip across the Delaware River to confront the British at Trenton. Robber barons lived elsewhere, railroads went elsewhere and casinos were built elsewhere. . . .”

Three hundred pages later:

“There were far more pigs than bears in residence when progress discovered that The Meadowlands were in the way. Dump trucks and engineers would invade the fringes of this land. Development was to trample the plume grass and chase the muskrats from their burrows, as the Delaware Indians had been chased from their dwellings. And from this development, a new predator would emerge. He would live in the world of sports, which had carved a niche in these swamplands. He would inhabit an edifice known as Giants Stadium, and he made it a dangerous place to be.

“His name was Lawrence Taylor.”

Thank you, James. I’ll take it from here. Indeed, one Lawrence Taylor is a modern-day predator, though he would probably prefer to be called a gladiator in shoulder pads.

After all, is there not nobility in sacking quarterbacks?

Yes, a certain nobility . . . but also an aggressiveness bordering on ruthless. It is not the nature of Taylor as much as the nature of the job.

You see, Taylor does what he does for a living, just as Tyrone Rex did millions of years ago. Taylor devours quarterbacks to put food on his table.

Understand now that the Chargers are next in line to visit these refined swamplands, venturing onto the artificially carpeted domain of Mr. Taylor. They have in their ranks one Dan Fouts, who plays quarterback in an offense that is at the same time fragile and explosive. This is an offense of delicacy and deceit rather than brute strength.

Lawrence Taylor will use his brute strength to try to disrupt this offense. At this, he is quite successful.

Consider when last these two National Football League teams met. The year was 1983 and the site, once again, was Giants Stadium.

Taylor and the New York Giants did not win that afternoon. They became involved in what has through the years become a rather typical and traditional encounter with Fouts and Co. The Chargers were winners that afternoon, 41-34, but it was certainly a Pyrrhic victory.

Dan Fouts was not around for the conclusion because he had fallen prey to Lawrence Taylor, the quarterback’s shoulder askew.

This created a rather ironic aftermath. The Giants did not defeat the Chargers head-to-head, but Taylor was to defeat them, in a way, a number of times that year. The injuries that Fouts sustained that afternoon caused him to miss six games before the season was over, and the Chargers lost five of them.

This trip to the Meadowlands also brings to mind one of the most chilling scenes I have ever seen in a football game. My wife and I were watching a Monday night game on television in Puerto Vallarta last November, paying only moderate attention because of the distractions afforded by buckets of beer and icy white wine.

I glanced at the screen and did a double-take. My jaw dropped in disbelief at the ugly consequences of what I was seeing. Joe Theismann was under assault by the New York Giant defense, and Lawrence Taylor was coming down on the Redskin’s leg as he fell.

Joe Theismann’s leg snapped, and a roomful of frolicking tourists fell silent. Even the Mexican fishermen at the next table, who spoke only the most fragmented English, hushed.

It should be said that Lawrence Taylor is not in the business of injuring quarterbacks. That is surely not his intent. He is simply so good at what he does that he is often in their front pockets as they land on their backsides.

The Giants have an outstanding defense, but Taylor is the heart and soul of that defense.

When the Chargers went to the blackboard this week to put their game plan together, one thought was foremost in their minds: Protect Dan Fouts. To do that, they had to somehow keep Lawrence Taylor from running rampant through the Meadowlands.

With this in mind, figure that the Chargers will be keeping tight ends in and running backs back. It will take more than one blocker to do this job. The offense can even use more than one line of defense against Mr. Taylor.

After all, the Chargers must realize, a James Michener epic never needs another chapter.