Ex-Ram Stokes Is a Survivor

Alongside ice castles, ice sculptures, ice-fishing shacks and instant ice coffee--just take a cup outside--this year’s Super Bowl landscape is littered with wind-swept debris from the recent self-destruction of the Anaheim Rams football team.

Thurman Thomas is here, a reminder of Ram draft miscalculations past. Thomas had this bad knee, the Rams insisted. They flunked him on his pre-draft physical. Then they drafted Gaston Green ahead of Thomas, four years before the league MVP trophy, and thereby flunked themselves.

Clifford Hicks is here. He is the cornerback the Rams swore would never play after major reconstructive surgery. The Rams released him, the Buffalo Bills received him and now he plays nickel back and returns punts for the two-time defending AFC champions.

Worst of all, Fred Stokes is here. Stokes is a defensive end who can run, who can rush the passer, who can make big plays, who is precisely what the Rams have been missing since Jack Youngblood retired the Ram Quarterback Sack with him in 1985.

In 1990, Stokes led the Washington Redskins in sacks with 7 1/2. In 1991, he had 6 1/2 more sacks, to go along with two forced fumbles, two recovered fumbles and that rarest of defensive line rarities, an intercepted pass.

In 1987 and 1988, Stokes played for the Rams.

Actually, that’s overstating his contribution to those teams. What Stokes did best with the Rams is go along with the program. The Rams liked him, but saw him as a project, a down-the-line investment, so Stokes spent two years in Anaheim playing stowaway.

Injured reserve became Stokes’ official position, by way of suggestion.

“Fred, that ankle’s really acting up, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Coach.”

“Fred, I’m really worried about that shoulder, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Coach.”

Stokes appeared in only 13 games as a Ram. He made eight tackles, 1 1/2 sacks. He wasn’t all that big (6 feet 3, 262 pounds), he wasn’t all that experienced (he played tight end and offensive tackle in college), but he was fast and he was cheap, making 12th-round-draft-choice money, so the Rams kept him around, hiding him in every nook and cranny they could find.

Finally, and fatefully, they found a new one: the Plan B unprotected list. This was February 1989, the first year of the Plan B free-agent system, and no one was sure how the thing was going to work. The Rams saw it as a glorified waiver wire and figured it would be easy to sneak such an obscurity as Stokes through it. Stash him there for two months, bring him back after the signing deadline passes.

The Rams sent Stokes a letter outlining their decision, but the underlying message got lost in the mail. If there was a secret agenda, Stokes never detected it.

To him, Plan B was an insult. “I was shocked,” Stokes says. “I kept looking at the letter--’We’ve decided to put you on Plan B.’ My heart just dropped. I figured they didn’t want me anymore.

“After that, I never expected to play for them again. And that was the last I heard from them.”

To his surprise, others quickly came calling.

Seattle pursued Stokes aggressively, but then, Chuck Knox could always a spot a defensive lineman, a trait the Rams finally remembered last month. Washington developed an interest, which greatly impressed Stokes. At the time, the Redskins were 13 months removed from their Super Bowl victory over Denver.

“The organization, the winning tradition,” Stokes says. “I can remember other teams using (Washington defensive ends) Dexter Manley and Charles Mann as an argument against me going there. They’d tell me, ‘Why do you want to go there? When would you ever play? You’re a third-down pass rusher and both of them are third-down pass rushers--and second down and first down, too.’

“But Washington had a ton of intangible things going for it. I felt it was meant for me to be there. If it wasn’t, things wouldn’t have worked out the way they have.”

They worked out because the Redskins couldn’t keep anyone in the lineup opposite Mann. In 1989, Manley was suspended after failing a drug test and backup Markus Koch hurt his ribs, then his knee. Meet Fred Stokes, instant Redskin first-teamer. In his first professional start, against Chicago, Stokes made seven tackles, forced a fumble and recovered another.

It was the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

The following season, Stokes was listed as Washington’s designated quarterback hitter. Playing primarily on passing downs, he led the team in sacks and either forced or recovered half a dozen fumbles.

Wherever Stokes seemed to go, turnovers and eight-yard losses seemed to follow.

“For some reason, he makes plays,” says Washington defensive coordinator Richie Petitbon, who doesn’t attempt to explain it. “For the amount of plays he’s in, the sacks and fumbles he gets are unbelievable. One or two a game. He’s really something.”

Stokes became a full-time starter last October and since then, the Washington defense has yielded more than 17 points only twice. Compare that to the 1991 Rams--16 games played, one game with fewer than 20 points allowed.

Stokes claims to be “surprised” by the collapse in Anaheim--”I always thought it was a really good organization”--but admits he hasn’t looked back much.

“I’ve grown a lot as a player in the three years I’ve been here,” he says. “At the time, putting me on Plan B was probably the best thing to do for the team.

“It can happen on draft day, too. The guy you expect to be great never pans out and the guy you think might barely make the team turns out to be a superstar.”

Blind luck?

In Stokes’ case, Petitbon has to say yes.

“We thought he was a good athlete,” Petitbon says. “He was undersized, but he could run. You see a guy like that, you take a chance on him.

“Nobody knew anything about him. A 12th-rounder from Georgia Southern. I can’t take credit for it. It was a shot in the dark.”

Art Monk, Darrell Green, Andre Collins--anybody can hit those when properly focused. The Fred Stokes types, the Plan B gambles--those are the ones that separate NFL royalty from rabble.

Win some and you go to Minnesota for the winter.

Lose some and you get left out in the cold.