Chargers Once Again Dare to Mingle With Public

The Chargers, after all these years, have come out of the closet. They have faces and voices. They wear shoes without cleats and sport coats and, in some cases, ties. They are people.

For the first time since 1986, they came out to meet their public at a preseason meal. It used to be dinner, but this time it was lunch at a waterfront hotel. Not bad for a 4-12 team. You didn’t even need to pack a brown bag or a lunch pail.

“You come out here to support a 4-12 team,” said Junior Seau, “and that says something for you guys. You’re here.”

At $30 a pop, thank you. Or thank the boss for the liberal expense account.

Seau, the peripatetic linebacker, was one of three players who actually addressed the multitudes. He looked as comfortable as if he had been standing in front of crowds of 700 all his life. If Hudson and Bauer need a sports guy for the a.m., Junior’s their man.

“The defense holding hands is no joke,” Seau said. “Listen, we’ve got Burt Grossman holding hands . . . with a male.”

Are better times ahead for this team?

“Going home and yelling at the wife and beating the dog, that’s over with,” he said.

Junior, your wife thanks you and your dog thanks you and, if indeed you are right, long-suffering Charger fans thank you.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Everyone seemed to say thank you to someone for something or another. It was starting to remind me of the Oscars, except I didn’t see any trophies. I also didn’t see Cher.

I’m not sure what finally made the time right for this sort of gathering. I could understand over the last few years why the Chargers would not want to show their faces without masks and helmets, but then 1991 was actually worse than most of the miserable years of the last decade have been. It was the worst year since ‘86, when last these fellows broke bread with the community.

Maybe it’s the notion that Bobby Ross, the new coach, brings hope to these eternally hopeful fans.

Maybe they thought they could get Joe Phillips to sign with the lure of a steak luncheon and a chocolate helmet stuffed with mousse.

Maybe Alex Spanos decided it had been long enough (four years) since he was mercilessly booed during an on-the-field ceremony (the retirement of Dan Fouts’ uniform number) that he could show his face again.

Regardless, this was not a cynical crowd. These people probably would have applauded Al Davis or Billy Joe Tolliver or Dan Henning. OK, maybe not Dan Henning. They were upbeat and appreciative and, well, optimistic.

Besides, how could anyone have booed Spanos after his introduction by luncheon chairman John Lynch?

“He’s been criticized for wearing his heart on his sleeve,” Lynch at lunch said of Spanos, “but the man is committed to making the Chargers winners. He wants nothing more.”

Forget for a bite or two that Lynch, in real life, owns the radio station that broadcasts Charger games to the thousands of no-shows each week.

“Thanks, thanks, thanks,” Spanos told the fans. “Your support has been fantastic.”

Empty seats must be hard to see from the owner’s box.

Spanos introduced Bobby Ross and described him as a field general.

“Thanks for that raise in rank,” Ross said. “I only made first lieutenant in my time in the service.

You take this team to the playoffs, Bobby, and you’ll end up mayor of Stockton. You win the Super Bowl and Messrs. Bush and Clinton had better watch out.

“I’m very, very appreciative of Mr. Spanos . . . for giving me an opportunity to be part of the organization,” Ross said, “and part of this fine city and community.”

And these fine players. Ross, the field general, was like a politician without promises, but not without promise. He said the right things and deferred to his troops--Pro Bowlers Seau, Marion Butts and Gill Byrd.

“I’ve learned to stand up to be seen, speak up to be heard and shut up to be appreciated,” Ross said.

We’ll have to wait to see how that works at halftime.

Regardless, no one was promising playoffs . . . not even Spanos.

No one but Marion Butts, a soft-spoken type who might have been expected to be the last to make such proclamations. Maybe someone had to do it and the pea was under his shell.

“I’m looking forward to a great year,” he said, “and I’m looking forward to making the playoffs. Mr. Spanos has been patient, very patient, but look for us in the playoffs.”

Mr. Spanos has been patient, but no more so than the room full of fans cheering players and coaches they had never met and cheering an owner they had never before cheered and, of course, cheering favorites such at Marion Butts, Junior Seau and Gill Byrd.

Maybe, just maybe, there is good reason for all this good cheer and optimism. Maybe these guys are going to get out of last place as well as the closet. Maybe . . . playoffs?

Get to the playoffs and it will take a seven-course dinner to have time for all the thank yous.