An Initial Reaction to N.O.

Beware of people with the initials J. M.

You never know what they might end up doing in New Orleans.

The late John Matuszak tore up the town the week before Super Bowl XV. Out until 3 a.m., dancing with other men’s wives, making a spectacle of himself, making Philadelphia’s coach more upset than his own, the Tooz went out a few days later and helped the Raiders win easily, 27-10.

Next time the Supergame came to the Superdome, it was Jim McMahon’s turn. He brought in an acupuncturist. He showed a helicopter pilot his best side. And then the Chicago Bear quarterback played his moon off in Super Bowl XX, sticking a pin in the New England Patriots, 46-10.

So, the question becomes:

What will Joe Montana do?

Well, knowing this J. M. the way we do, we’d be surprised if he did anything more outrageous before Super Bowl XXIV than go over to Pascal Manale’s and drool barbecued shrimp juice.

Montana isn’t exactly the life of the party. Oh, he’s inspired a controversy or two, even a nasty rumor or two, during the course of his stupendous career. Overall, though, the quarterback of the San Francisco 49ers seems a fairly straight arrow, so we doubt that he will be lighting up the French Quarter’s night life, or be caught checking out any up-and-coming Blaze Starrs.

Still, when there’s a Super Bowl party in New Orleans, brace yourself for anything.

When Len Dawson of the Kansas City Chiefs got here for Super Bowl IV, played at Tulane Stadium, the first news he got was not good. Coach Hank Stram came up to his quarterback to tell him that the Huntley-Brinkley news team on NBC-TV was about to report that Dawson’s name had been linked with a sports-gambling inquiry, that an alleged gambler had been arrested with $400,000 and Dawson’s phone number on his person.

Talk about your Super Bowl bummer. This didn’t exactly put Dawson in the mood to play ball. And yet, he led the Chiefs to a 23-7 victory over Minnesota, and somehow has managed to remember that week with fondness rather than bitterness.

Same with Craig Morton. When the quarterback of the Denver Broncos showed up for Super Bowl XII, all he yearned to talk about were his teammates and the Dallas Cowboys. All anybody else wanted to talk about were some Internal Revenue Service matters that Morton had pending. Morton was reluctant to show his face on Bourbon Street all week long, just because he was tired of everybody bringing up the same subject hour after hour.

He wasn’t so lucky in the game, either, Denver doing the first of its Super Bowl fades, 27-10.

New Orleans is an exciting city, and you never know what to expect. For Super Bowl IX, Minnesota Coach Bud Grant tried to keep his players loose by not bothering to have a curfew. The Vikings lost anyway, to Pittsburgh, 16-6. For Super Bowl VI, Miami Coach Don Shula had ordered his players to be in their rooms by 11 p.m. Didn’t work. The Dolphins lost anyway, to Dallas, 24-3.

That was the Super Bowl before which Richard M. Nixon telephoned Shula at 1:30 in the morning with a blueprint for a pass play to Paul Warfield, which moved Lyndon B. Johnson to telegram Cowboy Coach Tom Landry: “My prayers will be with you in New Orleans, although I don’t plan to send any plays.”

There was no dome back then. The temperature at Tulane at kickoff time was 39 degrees.

New Orleans’ hotels were so solidly booked that week, the American Society of Refrigerating and Air Conditioning Engineers volunteered to postpone their convention, freeing rooms for incoming football fans.

Eleven years later, the American Society of Refrigerated Football Players, numbering one in membership, came to New Orleans to have some fun and play some ball. William Perry of the Chicago Bears, a man who could walk down both sides of Bourbon Street at the same time, became the toast of the town, eating his way into Louisianans’ hearts, and a few crawfish actually lived to tell about it.

We don’t know who will steal the show in New Orleans this week, before game day.

Vance Johnson of the Broncos is certainly a nominee. An all-league talker who will bust the eardrums of anybody who wants to hear about his Patrick Nagel-ripoff artwork, the Vance is once again, as was the case before his last two Super Bowl appearances, “ready to embrace stardom.” Vance Johnson will never run out of conversation, as long as there is Vance Johnson.

Bubba Paris of the 49ers will make his pitch. There are certain days of certain years when Bubba can go up to Refrigerator Perry and call him Slim. When Bubba hits the N’Awlins restaurant district, prepare for some serious fork action. And, there are certain days when Bubba Paris can make Vance Johnson seem shy.

As for the J. M. theory, who knows who will step forward to be the most talked-about fellow at this New Orleans Super Bowl? John Madden, maybe. Jim Murray. Jennifer Montana. Somebody. Maybe some Budweiser bottle.

Whoever he is, he’ll probably be more interesting than the game.