Kelly Calls Signals, but Wilson Calls Shots

On the morning it was announced that Jim Kelly had signed a seven-year contract with the Buffalo Bills for $20 million, the owner of the Bills, Ralph Wilson, followed his custom here of driving to 7-Eleven for coffee.

It costs 69 cents, coming with the warranty, “It’s fresh or it’s free.”

Not wishing to offend the housekeeper, who also makes coffee, Wilson announces to her he is going to 7-Eleven only to pick up the newspapers.

“Let’s see now,” a visitor says to Wilson, “You are drinking 69-cent coffee and giving quarterbacks $20 million. Is there any point that can be made here?”

“Actually, there are three points,” he responds. “First, it’s a big cup of coffee. Second, I am engaged in a game in which you must have a competent quarterback, or walk off the field.”

“And the third point?” he is asked.

“The third point is that $3 million a year sounds like a lot today, but won’t be for very long. TV fees are going up. Players are fighting for free agency. The cost of an expansion franchise may run as much as $150 million. If Kelly stays in one piece, he may yet be sorry he signed for seven years.”

“And you feel you got a bargain?”

“Well, I’m not exactly stealing anything, but I figure to get money back. For instance, my giving Kelly $3 million means that I have arranged a salary for Joe Montana of $5 million. If Montana has any decency, he will kick back some of that pay to me for making it possible.”

“And the trickle-down that will follow?”

“That’s the idea. Salaries will expand throughout the league and players will say, ‘That Wilson is a hell of a guy. The least we can do is cut him in on our heist.’ I’ll get rich on kickbacks.”

A 30-year veteran in pro football, Wilson specializes in dubious distinctions, such as tendering record-setting wages to the help. It will be recalled he once gave O.J. Simpson a then staggering $2 million for three years of labor.

He also made Bruce Smith the highest-paid defensive end in the game, a sum reported at $1.5 million a year.

But he rejected a $1-million demand by linebacker Tom Cousineau, a No. 1 draft pick.

“At the time,” Wilson recalls, “I didn’t think Cousineau was a million-dollar player. I was right. He went to Canada, then went to Cleveland, which owed me a draft pick for him. The draft pick turned out to be Kelly.”

Bernie Kosar, due to be drafted by the Bills, refused to play in Buffalo, at any price, hinting he favored a city of greater suavity, such as Cleveland, landing for the Bills draft pick Bruce Smith.

And Doug Flutie, whom the Bills could have drafted instead?

“A poll conducted in Buffalo showed 71% of the voters favoring Flutie,” Wilson says. “When I passed on him, I got hit very hard in the local press.”

“For letting Fred Smerlas get away recently,” Wilson is reminded, “you were described in your town as cheap.”

“I rarely can win an argument in Buffalo,” he answers. “If I don’t pay players what they ask, I am cheap. And when I pay them, I am a menace to football, creating discontent in our trenches by giving Kelly all that money.”

“Is there a chance one day you will do something right?”

“Not likely. People who run football teams have answers to only some things. Today’s media have answers to everything. And television is making it worse.”

Wilson ponders this thought a moment, then continues:

“Years back, TV was known as a house organ, a medium never going out on a limb, criticizing clubs. Today, everyone in the booth knows everything. You are dealing with guys who are never wrong.

“They differ from newspaper guys who are never wrong in that TV gets to the public faster. It used to be that an owner never found out how stupid he was until he picked up the paper the next morning.

“Today, all he has to do is turn on TV in his box and he can find out how stupid he is while the game is going on. If the coach and the quarterback were able to watch TV while the game was in progress, they, too, could learn of their dumbness without having to wait until morning.”

“One would think you would appreciate this express service,” Wilson is told.

“I do,” he answers. “Learning how stupid I am before I go to bed, I sleep better. I used to be anxious, anticipating the morning papers.”

“If, say, in two years, $3 million becomes a dated wage, will Kelly ask for a review?”

“Why not? By then, the DeBartolos will have given Montana a shopping mall. And other quarterbacks will be asking owners what they have in the way of real estate.”