Memories Still Hound Byner

Scott Norwood was wide right, but he wasn’t alone. Every team has a Scott Norwood, every athlete has a Scott Norwood moment--that missed field goal, tackle, block, free throw, grounder or glove save that deserves amnesia or an anesthesia that never comes.

Consider Washington Redskin running back Earnest Byner.

Consider the 1987 AFC championship game, Cleveland against Denver.

Consider a handoff by Browns’ quarterback Bernie Kosar at the Bronco three-yard line with 65 seconds to play.

Byner would rather not.

Feet from victory, Byner’s hands met defeat. Byner fumbled the ball, fumbled the Super Bowl, fumbled his career.

Denver recovered, ran out the clock and advanced with a 38-33 triumph.

Cleveland never recovered. It’s true: You cannot teach an old Dawg new tricks, such as forgiving and forgetting. The denizens of the Municipal Stadium Dawg Pound hounded Byner for another year until the Browns’ management mercifully interceded and traded him to Washington on draft day, 1989.

The Browns traded the scourge of the city for a scatback named Mike Oliphant. The Elephant Man for the Oliphant Man. Oliphant was going to give the Browns more speed than Byner, but to Cleveland fans, the best thing about the deal was that it was going to give the Browns less of Byner.

Such thinking, of course, got the Browns to where they are today--9-23 in the 1990s. Byner, meanwhile, has gone on to bigger and better things, namely the Super Bowl, where he will start Sunday as Buffalo meat tenderizer, softening up the Bills’ defense so Ricky Ervins may soar and Gerald Riggs may score.

Thus, there has been much to discuss this week: Byner’s second consecutive 1,000-yard season, his second consecutive Pro Bowl election, his 34 pass receptions, his first conference championship postgame party and reception.

But no. The first question in the minds of the congregated media was the last Byner wanted on his.

Earnest, could you talk about the fumble?

Byner tried not to. Minutes after the Redskins’ team plane landed Monday night, he was asked about it and he stoically replied, “I’m going to shut the door on that right now. That’s a situation that happened four years ago, that has nothing to do with the fact that we’re here in the Super Bowl now.”

One press conference down, three to go. And the media kept pounding on the door until it opened a crack, which it did at the Metrodome during Redskin photo day.

“I don’t think the fans in Cleveland ever forgave me,” Byner allowed. “It was always brought up, like the situation here. There’s no reason to talk about it. It’s a totally different era, a totally different team. I’ve gone on to do some really good things here . . .

“If it does anything, I hope it sends out a message to a lot of kids and people that are going through a tough time, who maybe feel like giving up. Hey, you can take it. If you work hard, stay with it, gain the proper perspective, you can stay with it.”

A message, perhaps, for a certain Mr. Norwood from the working address of Orchard Park, N.Y.?

Norwood, whose failed 47-yard field goal cost Buffalo the most recent Super Bowl, has dealt with the event as if it were a terminal disease. Norwood remains in the denial stage, insisting that all is well between kicker and the kicked, the Buffalo fans who have been replaying the flight of that football for 12 months now.

They’ve been great, they’ve been so supportive, Norwood recites in interview after interview. Couldn’t be better.

“I think he’s icing you on that,” says Byner’s voice of experience. “He doesn’t deserve to be in that position, but I’ve been there and I know.

“I empathize with anyone who gets blamed for losing a game. That kicker from Houston (Ian Howfield)--he hooks a field goal and the next day he was out. Brad Muster--he fumbles against us (in 1990) and we kick the winning field goal.

“I hate to see that happen to anybody, even if we win because of it. I’d rather win a game without any of that.”

With Byner, it took a year, a trade, a religious conversion and the purchase of a daily journal before he could move beyond the Denver three-yard line. The religion, he says, helped him rearrange his priorities--and one dropped football bounced well down the list. The journal was his therapy, less expensive than counseling and just as effective, provided the ink outlasted the grief.

“I was able to get things off my chest,” he said. “I said things I should have said long before. It finally enabled me to put it behind me.”

Among the entries in Byner’s 1991 edition:

--His reunion with the Browns, a 42-17 Redskin victory at RFK Stadium in October. Byner: “After the game, I went over to their bus and was shaking a couple hands when Mike Johnson grabbed me and said, ‘We got you back. We lost you one time, we’re not going to let you go again.’ That felt good. It showed the guys still cared about me.”

--The revisionist history that has been written in Cleveland, with newspapers and talk shows now calling Byner-for-Oliphant one of the worst trades in league history. Byner: “That gives me no personal satisfaction. It was a good deal for me. It gave me a new start. . . . I can’t say that I wish I was there now.”

--Another conference title game, this time in Washington, this time no fumbles, this time a 41-10 victory over Detroit. Byner: “It was great to get back to the game. It was tough to control my emotions; tears were welling up in my eyes and I was so excited, I could’ve exploded. The fans were really hyped, too, which didn’t help. It was nice.”

One last game awaits Sunday, an empty page soon to be filled.

Win this one and the questions will stop.

Win this one and a four-year-old fumble becomes a non-issue.

Win this one and Byner can change the subject. Better yet, he, and everyone else, can finally drop it.