It’s Time Raiders Let a Character Develop

Quarterbacking the “world champion” Washington Redskins (yes, but could they beat Toronto or Barcelona?) again this season will be that wealthy and worthy combatant Mark Rypien, who will be bringing his team to the Coliseum this Saturday and will venture to bring that team to the Rose Bowl come January for Super Bowl Whatever Roman Numeral It Is.

Quarterbacking the once-upon-a-time champion Los Angeles Raiders (won’t you come home, Jim Plunkett; won’t you come home?) is that undistinguished, yet underappreciated, Redskin snap-taker of yesteryear, Jay Schroeder, who thus far has proved that he can make a winner of a football team--not a trait to be taken lightly--but cannot make it a champion.

So, let’s let Todd Marinovich have a shot at it, shall we?

Look. You know and I know that Rypien vs. Marinovich, at face value, does not constitute a fair matchup. Nor does it seem equitable for San Francisco to be hogging the quarterbacking trough with Joe (I’m Back) Montana, Steve (I’m No Longer) Young and Steve (Don’t Call Me Sonny) Bono while so many other teams are struggling along, trying to picture themselves huddling in a Super Bowl around, say, Bob Gagliano.

Nevertheless, I say go with Marinovich, and here are three reasons why:

(1) Nothing about the Raider roster is new enough--Eric Dickerson for Roger Craig notwithstanding--to make anyone seriously believe that Art Shell’s team will be any better this season than it was last season. I mean, what else has changed? Is the defensive line any younger? Is Chester McGlockton going to turn a good team into a great team?

(2) If last Saturday’s exhibition against the Rams was any indication, the Raider running game is a shambles. Marcus Allen isn’t getting any younger, any more than he is getting any richer. He is tried and true, sure. But eight seasons have expired since Allen ran for 191 yards in a Super Bowl. And nobody else in the Raider backfield seems likely to be popping any 70-yard runs now that Bo Jackson is but a memory.

(3) Marinovich is a mystery. And everybody loves a good mystery. We already know what Schroeder will do. He will be a steady hand at the tiller, as a Republican might say. He will stay the course. Occasionally, he will Scud one to the Raider receiving corps, which is the most effective weapon this team possesses. But he will not be unpredictable, will not pull rabbits out of his hat and the final scores will be low and very un-Ken Stabler-like.

Marinovich, on the other hand, could be Stabler’s second coming. The crafty lefty. (Hasn’t there ever been a crafty right-hander?) The live wire. The performance artist who gives you abstract instead of still-life. Marinovich will be wildly unpredictable, as he was during last season’s final two games. Textbook touchdown passes one week; science-fiction horror passes the next.

Plus, he’s a nude surfer.

And believe me, an NFL team can’t have too many nude surfers. You can have your Rypiens or Montanas or Phil Simmses, if you like. Your straight-and-narrow arrows. Give me a Bobby Layne or a Billy Kilmer or a Jim McMahon. Give me a guy with a screw or two loose. Give me a quarterback who is impossible to scout, impossible to predict, impossible to pin down. He will never be boring. He will always be interesting to watch.

The Raiders do not fill their seats. They play there in that huge mausoleum where, as Howie Long and others have said, it gets depressing waiting for crowd noise to build from a half-capacity crowd that sits about a half-mile from midfield. I don’t know if Al Davis eventually will move his team to Dodger Stadium or to the Forum or to Knott’s Berry Farm. All I know is that it’s a shame this team can’t sell out somewhere .

Todd Marinovich can sell out the house. I am utterly convinced of it. He is a conversation piece. Coffee shops on Monday mornings will be buzzing with talk of his latest doings. He is the young and the reckless. Yes, he did make a drug-related mistake once, and if he does it again, bounce his butt off the squad. Otherwise, he’s a character. He plays his stereo too loud. He shoots the curl au naturel . So what? So he shows up for work with an earache and a sunburn.

The kid is a kick to watch. Always has been. He wasn’t USC’s model student, no doubt about it. He also wasn’t the Satanic signal caller. Let us not forget his triumphs. Let’s let bygones be bygones. Did you see his last-minute drive against the Rams? A thing of beauty. Let’s drag out those old banners: “In Todd We Trust.”

And Jay Schroeder? This is no intended indictment of him. On the contrary, Schroeder was something of a savior. He spared us from Marc Wilson and Rusty Hilger. We owe him for that. Yes, it would have been nice if offensive lineman Jim Lachey hadn’t been sacrificed. Yes, Lachey sure did help Washington win championships. But without Schroeder, the Raiders might have been 7-9 instead of 9-7, or even 4-12 instead of 12-4.

Marinovich had a “dead arm” a few days ago. One thing about Schroeder, he is dependable. Don’t write him off. Ask Jay to please stand by.

The kid might fly and he might flop. Let’s throw him out there and see what happens.