These Guys Don’t Even Sound Like the Trojans of Old

The bad news first. The USC Trojans, on the comeback trail, came back with a thud in a clunker on Labor Day night with the whole country watching and wishing it could have had Nebraska or Oklahoma instead.

It was the first time USC has lost to a Big 10 team since Nixon was President, coffee was a dime, Iran was friendly and movies weren’t nine reels of dirty words.

Let me ask you something--you ever think you’d live to see a USC team without a tailback? That’s like Laurel without Hardy, dinner without wine, Disneyland without Mickey Mouse.

The score was 27-13, but it wasn’t that close.

You ever think you’d see USC, a team so rich in names it looks in poor light like the cast of characters in a Sir Walter Scott novel or the House of Lords, a team that has had costume-drama names like Aramis Dandoy, Addison Hawthorne, Grenville Lansdell, Gaius Shavers, Artimus Parker, Orenthal Simpson, Morley Drury, coached by somebody named--are you ready?--”Smith”?

It’d be all right if his first name was “Epifanio” or “Conestoga” or even “Whispering”--but “Larry”?! If his name were even “Lorenzo” it might fit better.

Speaking of Lorenzo, Michigan State fielded a guy with a USC moniker Monday night--Lorenzo White--and he evoked more images of those rolling cadences of old than anyone in a red-and-gold uniform. Ryan Knight had the name but not the game.

Marlin McKeever, where are you now when they need you? Come back Marcus Allen, Volney Peters, Orville Mohler, Marshall Duffield. Ambrose Schindler, do something.

Of course, you have to remember the guy who coached all those guys with the names out of Lord Tennyson was named “Jones.” His first name, to be sure, was the aristocratic “Howard” and no one ever--ever!--called him “Howie.”

But Trojans by any other names ought to be able to block and tackle better than this bunch. It’s not only the surnames that have left, it’s the nicknames.

Remember how they used to run over people like trucks with the brakes out, so unstoppable one sportswriter dubbed them “The Thundering Herd”? The Coliseum used to tilt when they ran out on it.

And then they had this puckish coach who labeled their attack “Student Body Right” in honor of the fact an end sweep looked like the spring break on campus. They went over people like the German Army through Belgium.

This team seems to think it has to slicker people. Instead of just handing the ball to an O.J. Simpson or a Mike Garrett or Marcus Allen and knocking everyone down who even thought of getting in his way, this team gave the ball to a guy who threw it. Away, most of the time, or to the wrong guys the rest of the time.

Now, passing is all right for Stanford--or one of those schools that don’t have 109 all-state football players on their practice field, all weighing between 200 and 300 pounds and able to run the hundred in nine-and-change. The Trojans have always been a team that really didn’t have to have the football blown up.

USC depending on the pass is like the Ruth Yankees depending on the glove, Dempsey relying on the jab. Dolly Parton learning how to spell. Passing is Ivy League stuff. Howard Jones would have a heart attack. The Trojans filled the air with footballs. That’s all they filled--the air.

Of course, Student Body Right didn’t work because USC tailbacks had a tougher time getting outside than Rudolf Hess. Ryan Knight went up the middle so many times Michigan State had everybody waiting for him but the mayor of Lansing.

Michigan State has no tradition for fancy names. Their lines run heavily to “Bubba” or something Samoan, but their quarterback knew waving the football around was just like a guy on a riverboat flashing the ace. You knew you weren’t going to get it. Bobby McAllister, his Michigan State counterpart, has his own version of Student Body Right.

It was supposed to be a Heisman Trophy showcase for the running back Lorenzo White. But Lorenzo White didn’t make anybody forget Bo Jackson. But neither does he have to give some thought to the outfield for a living, he gained over 100 yards and passed Orenthal Simpson on the all-time list.

But the real Heisman candidate on the field, if being in a class by yourself is a criterion, was the Michigan State punter, Greg Montgomery. This guy hit some kicks that came down with snow on them. The last one he kicked stayed up so long there were 22 guys standing around looking up in the sky for it as if it were a space shuttle. He averaged 52 yards, to give you an idea.

So, Smith ain’t Jones? Well, it’s too early to tell. The great Howard opened his career with a 72-0 win. Of course, his opposition was Whittier.

This Mr. Smith is not ready to go to Washington. He seemed a little shocked after the game like a guy who has bought a car without a transmission. “If we make mistakes like that the rest of the year, we’ll be 0-11.”

Any time a USC team puts the ball in the air 47 times, the game plan seems more suspect than the game players. That’s the most passes an USC team has ever thrown in a single game. Howard Jones might not throw that many in a decade.

But maybe this coach got a look at the personnel before he signed on. Maybe that’s why he said his name was Smith.