Strikers Hang In by Hanging Out

The day began early enough Thursday for Dennis Harrah, an All-Pro offensive guard who is losing $25,000 a week defending his principles.

Harrah, the soul and spirit of the Los Angeles Rams’ offensive line, left his rambling home overlooking lush hills and horse trails at Orange Park Acres at 7:30 a.m. and headed for Rams Park to picket the replacement players at their practice.

A couple of hours later, Harrah and All-Pro tackle Jackie Slater--who have played alongside each other in the trenches for a dozen years--strolled into the Sports Gallery fitness club on Katella Avenue, just a fairway drive and a wedge shot from Anaheim Stadium.

Harrah and Slater combine for 550 pounds of broad shoulders and beefy arms. They were there to play racquetball and lift weights--their daily regimen to stay in shape during the National Football League strike.

Already huffing down in the pits of the racquetball courts were three other massive offensive linemen, tackles Irv Pankey and Duval Love and center Doug Smith. An hour later, the soaking-in-sweat bodies moved over to the weight room.

“I can’t beat that old man,” Love moaned after Slater, who is 10 years his senior, had whipped him again in racquetball.

Next door, Harrah, Smith and Pankey had played two mean games of cutthroat racquetball. Smith won both, but not before his fellow linemen took him to the brink with curses and wicked smashes off the walls.

Usually the least paid, and always the least noticed, the offensive line is also the least appreciated spot in pro football. Linemen are oversized men with banged-up knees, burn marks on their arms and crooked fingers. They protect million-dollar quarterbacks and allow an All-Pro running back like Eric Dickerson to break rushing records and drive fancy cars.

But Thursday, these massive, proud men weren’t looking for recognition--not even support for their cause. They were content to be together, to kid with one another, to hang tight during a strike that is showing signs of cracking, with some players crossing picket lines to return to the playing field.

“This is a test of your character,” said Pankey, as he awaited a pastrami sandwich in the dining room of the club. “It puts you closer together because we’re all suffering.”

Harrah, the uncrowned leader of the offensive line, added:

“As a unit, the offensive line is the closest on the team. Teammates lie to each other, but not on this group. It helps keep us together, especially in a tough time like this.”

While waiting for their food, they talked about growing up in families that were slightly less than middle class. They compared memories of mowing lawns and doing odd jobs for spending money as youngsters.

But again, the discussion turned to the strike and their uneasiness. There are many fans who do not support the strike, and that’s tough for these men to handle.

“Most of us are egotistical and money hungry, but we are all human beings, too,” Harrah said. “People have died for principle. That’s what we’re doing, sticking to our principle, because the money is not what matters the most.”

Love, who is in just his third season with the Rams, was the butt of most of the jokes at Thursday’s lunch. He is not shy, but he has a little kid look about him. He is young (24) and single.

Most of the other linemen tease him, but he respects them and vows not to return to camp and “become a scab.”

“It’s tough, but if these guys can hold out, so can I. They’re losing more money than I am,” Love said.

Harrah, at one time known as the most colorful of all the Rams for his zest for the fast life, is now married. Tanner Calvin, his sturdy and feisty son of seven months, keeps him home with his wife, Teresa.

Harrah was an outspoken striker in 1982, when the NFL players stayed out for seven weeks. In 1987, he is outspoken again and remains convinced that the players must stay out until a fair contract is agreed to by management.

Harrah--Herc (for Hercules) to his teammates--realizes that this year’s strike is tougher than the one five years ago.

“In 1982, they locked us out. Nobody played. But this is different because they are replacing us and having games. There is the constant temptation and threat for us to play,” he said.

“We know we are losing a lot of money, and we worry about how we are going to recoup some of our losses. But in our hearts, we know we won’t be able to get most of it back. We won’t break even.”

Slater left the dining table early, mumbling something about having a meeting. But before he left, Slater--an articulate, cheerful man of 275 pounds--expressed uneasiness at not knowing when he would again be fighting off equally big defensive lineman.

Negotiations between the players’ representatives and the team owners have resumed amid reports that the key issue in the strike, that of free agency, had been temporarily put aside.

“It’s both exciting and frustrating not knowing what’s going to happen day to day,” Slater said. “But you take what you can.”

Finished with picketing, working out and lunch, Harrah headed home to Orange Park Acres. First, he cleaned off some trash in his yard and then fed his wife’s horse, Greystoke. He cleaned off the horse’s doings and talked about how home life has changed during the strike.

“This is almost like getting ready for (training) camp . . . the anticipation. You wish you knew when it would be over. I still hope we can play this Sunday,” Harrah said.

“It’s hard, and it’s hard on your wife. She has to deal with the moods you may be in and the frustrations you may be feeling.”

But there in the solitude of home, the strike is a little easier to take.