Cutting Herschel? Incredible

Herschel Walker is not the first Minnesota Viking ordered to pull over and get out.

But Herschel wasn’t even doing the driving. He was the guy on the brakes.

Matter of fact, the one who brought Herschel to a halt was the driver--who, by evicting the American football hero from his four-seater bobsled Wednesday, immediately became the meanest individual at the front of any sleigh since those reindeer who used to tease Rudolph.

Randy Will must have had his reasons for replacing an Olympian with the body of Adonis and the speed of Mercury with somebody 43 pounds lighter. But there isn’t much we can do about it, except maybe penalize him for backfield in motion.

All I know is, this ends the Winter Olympic adventure of Herschel Walker, the one American here who interested Americans back home the most.

This is not quite the stop-the-presses story some people are making it out to be. (One East Coast editor called his correspondent here to ask: “Is this bigger than Ben Johnson?”)

But it is disappointing, particularly to Walker, who feels as though he just got traded to Norway.

As Herschel said the other day up in the awe-inspiring Alps (they were difficult to tell apart): “I didn’t come here to sightsee.”

Herschel Walker is becoming the superstar nobody wants. The Dallas Cowboys traded him. The Vikings neglected him. They want to trade him to Atlanta. And now his own bobsled driver doesn’t want him to bob.

It’s one thing to be benched by an NFL coach. It’s another to be benched by Randy Will, a muffin baker from Endwell, N.Y.

Will, like Walker, is a two-sport athlete. He once belonged to the U.S. ski team. Otherwise, all they have in common is that Randy’s hometown is exactly the same size as Herschel’s neck.

He obviously doesn’t hold Walker in the same esteem as U.S. two-man bobsled driver Brian Shimer, who, after daydreaming aloud that Bo Jackson or Walker be made his partner, ended up saying: “Here I am, driving with Herschel Walker. I must be hallucinating.”

Herschel is a lot like Bo. Each played football for a southeastern college. Each won the Heisman Trophy. And neither is afraid to diversify. Walker once danced with the Ft. Worth ballet, one of his rare public performances without (we presume) a helmet.

He has been king of the hill, top of the heap.

“By the 1994 Olympics,” figure skater Christopher Bowman said, “Herschel Walker will probably be a figure skater.”

Together, Walker and Shimer placed seventh. For a newcomer, that seemed pretty good.

Keep in mind, America hasn’t even won a medal in bobsled since 1956.

But not everybody was excited about Walker’s being the only U.S. bobsledder to pull double-duty. When he isn’t working at his New York bakery job making muffins, Randy (Nothin’ Says Lovin’ Like Somethin’ From the Oven) Will is a dedicated sled driver who prefers to pick his own passengers.

And in his particular car pool, Randy wanted Chris Coleman, his Olympic roommate and fellow New Yorker, who got the good news Tuesday on his 25th birthday that Walker was out and he was in. Coleman is 5-10 1/2, 177 pounds. Walker’s legs weigh about 177 pounds.

Somehow I doubt Americans will get the same thrill out of seeing this mighty superstar from the State University of New York at Binghamton.

“Herschel Walker is probably the most incredible athlete I’ve met in my life,” Will said. “But you can’t tear apart a team that has been successful and put someone on who has limited race experience.”

I have heard it suggested that, after pushing, Herschel had a habit of leaping too late into the sled. Well, what’s the difference? If he had to, Herschel could catch the sled.

Is there anything we can do to get Walker back in the sled?

Perhaps.

1. We could trade him to the World League of American Bobsled.

2. Donald Trump could donate $25 million to a needy bobsled facility.

3. Or we could wait until next February to take it up with President Buchanan.

Then, by 1994, we would be all set. Our brakeman is Herschel. In the seat in front of him: Bo. In the next seat, oh, maybe Joe Montana. And our driver, of course: Jose Canseco.