They Are 4-0 and Ready to Go . . .

All right, you lovers of men in horned helmets, and we don’t mean the Vikings, now you can go ahead and say those two crazy little words that you have been dying to say.

“Super Bowl.”

It’s OK now to dream big. The Rams have demonstrated that they can beat anybody, anyplace--even the 49ers at San Francisco. They didn’t get snuffed out at Candlestick. They came, they played, they conquered Sunday, 13-12, showing they can overcome any odds but the over-under.

Goodness gracious, great balls of fire, what has gotten into these Rams? Little by little, these young goats have turned into one really tough professional football organization, one that trades away Eric Dickerson and gets better.

(For those of us who approved of that deal, excuse us while we gloat.)

These people are primed to win their first Super Bowl, believe me. No, don’t believe me--believe them.

The Rams believe in themselves. They believe that they are going to win even when they are losing in the final minute and they are playing on their opponents’ field and their opponents happen to be the 1989 Super Bowl supermen, the 49ers.

The thought of going belly-up never seemed to enter the Rams’ minds. Jim Everett just popped a couple of passes to Pete Holohan, then stood back and let Holohan hold the ball in the middle of Candlestick Park’s baseball diamond for Mike (I Hit Better Than Carney) Lansford, who kicked it through the uprights to win the game, which is a neat little habit of his.

These guys have become a tough, tough bunch, these Los Angeles Rambos. They looked Joe Montana in the eye Sunday and refused him passage into their end zone. Not one touchdown did the Rambos yield. They knocked Montana on his Butte.

Beating Kansas City, Indianapolis and Green Bay, that was one thing, but beating Montana, Jerry Rice, Roger Craig and that crowd without giving up a touchdown, man, that takes some doing. Kevin Greene and the rest of the Rambo defense never gave an inch.

Nothing delays the Rams these days--not even the airlines. When their flight to San Francisco got stuck on the ground Saturday, the Rams simply got off, lined up on the Tarmac and ran plays right there in the airport.

Everett took a rubber ball he usually uses for strengthening his grip and made believe it was a football as the guys scrimmaged on the runway.

“OK, Henry, you go down by the United 747, then cut left behind that baggage cart. Willie, zigzag past the Delta DC-10 and circle around behind the stewardess. On two!”

Preseason speculation led us to believe the Rams would be serious Super Bowl contenders this season, but you never know about that stuff. With the Rams in particular, you never know if a running back is going to be a holdout or if some other important player is going to be wasting away in Cocaineville.

Besides, everybody in the National Football Conference believed this was going to be their year.

San Francisco had Montana back. Philadelphia had the new, improved Montana, Randall Cunningham. Chicago was its usual tough self and Minnesota thought itself tougher than Chicago. Washington and New York demanded their customary respect, Dallas, Green Bay and Atlanta had good rookies, Phoenix felt frisky and New Orleans knew this was finally the year that the Superdome on Super Bowl Sunday would not be a neutral field.

The Rams, well, they were better, sure. But this was still the team San Francisco had beaten as recently as 1987 by the gruesome little score of 48-0. Could the Rams have improved that much in two seasons?

Sure looks that way.

The Rambos have never been bad under John Robinson. They ordinarily have been winners and almost always competitive. Yet, come playoff time, nobody ever really believed, except Georgia Frontiere and those employed by her, that they could go the distance.

Today, Georgia’s bulldogs look lean and hungry.

Things are definitely on the upswing in Anaheim. The offense has the E Ride of Everett to Ellard. Greg Bell is more dependable than that guy with the tinted goggles in Indianapolis. The offensive line for the Rams, well, these goats can butt. This Tom Newberry, for example, has become a pro’s pro. He clears holes sportswriters could run through.

There was a time, not so very long ago, when the Ram offense amounted to three clouds of dust and Dale Hatcher. Well, the Rams don’t have to get 150 yards rushing out of their running back to win anymore. Thanks for the memories, Dickerson and Charlie White, but now we’ve got a guy who can pass.

On the outskirts of Disneyland, the Super Bowl no longer feels like Fantasyland. It’s more like Tomorrowland.