Seeds of Apathy Rams Have Sown Now Grow Wild

John Shaw, executive vice president of the Rams, was talking idly the other day about his team’s immediate future--what quarterbacks to pursue, what draft choices to make--when the conversation turned, as it usually does these days, to his team’s long-term future.

Is Anaheim really about to lose its professional football team to Baltimore, or Memphis, or St. Louis, or Katmandu?

“Does anybody care?” Shaw asked.

Shaw wasn’t attempting to be glib or flippant. He truly wanted to know, since he has seen the newspaper polls (the Big A apparently stands for “ambivalence”) and watched the Anaheim city council steadfastly refrain from rounding up hoops through which to jump.

Does anybody care?

We are about to find out. Thursday, the Rams moved the first pawn in a chess match that might not play itself all the way out for months, even years, when they notified the city of Anaheim that they will exercise the escape clause in their Anaheim Stadium lease.

The Rams thus become free agents, able to listen to any and all offers--including Anaheim’s, if it so chooses. Sixteen years ago, when the Rams were bored with life in the Coliseum and rattling their saber about moving, Anaheim turned cartwheels, balanced a beach ball on its nose and clucked like a chicken.

But that was back when the Ram franchise ranked among the brightest jewels in the NFL crown. In 1978, the Rams were in the middle of their five-year reign atop the NFC West, annual Super Bowl contenders, when time was still on Chuck Knox’s side, along with Jack Youngblood, Larry Brooks, Jack Reynolds and Dave Elmendorf.

Those Rams were worth debasing itself over, Anaheim felt. The NFL logo would finally designate the city as “big league,” since the Angels weren’t doing much to help the cause. And this wasn’t just any football franchise. Tampa Bay could keep the Buccaneers--Anaheim was getting the Rams , proven, trusted, on their way to the Super Bowl in their final Los Angeles season, with untold riches and sellouts awaiting them in Orange County in the 1980s.

And now?

Today, the Rams are the official dog food of the NFL. In the last four seasons, they are 26 games under .500. Four losing seasons in a row, the second-longest dry spell in the franchise’s 57 years. (The record, if you’re wondering, is seven consecutive losing seasons, 1959-65. Games Won: 25. Games Lost: 65. Head Coaches Lost: Sid Gillman, Bob Waterfield, Harland Svare.)

The Rams of the 1990s are 19-45. That’s an average of 11.25 losses per season. That’s worse than the worst stretch the franchise has ever seen. From 1959 through 1965, the Rams averaged 9.3 losses. Of course, they played fewer games then, but a loss is a loss is a loss--and by January of 1994, Orange County is sick and fed up.

If the county has lost interest, it’s to the county’s credit. Consumers are discerning here. This isn’t Buffalo or Cleveland, where 80,000 ski masks would turn out every Sunday just to watch the goal posts rust. That doesn’t make Buffalo or Cleveland fans better than Orange County fans. More bored, yes. More easily entertained, certainly. There, they’ll swill rot-gut because it keeps them warm inside. Here, they hold out for a buoyant, full-bodied Merlot--and if they can’t find it at Anaheim Stadium, there’s always the beach, or Anaheim Arena.

You have to give Orange County a reason to come out to the park, and when’s the last time the Rams fulfilled their part of the bargain? Handoffs to Jerome Bettis aren’t enough. One has to go back to 1989 to find a Ram team worthy of the area’s undivided attention. Ram-mania reached a fever pitch during that thrilling playoff run, but who was the doctor who prescribed cold compresses for the next 48 months?

Actually, the seeds of apathy were first sown in 1987, when Eric Dickerson ran 47-Gap all the way to Indianapolis. If Jan. 6, 1994, is a milestone on the Rams’ road to wherever, so, too, were these moments:

Oct. 31, 1987: Rams trade Dickerson, the best running back in the history of the franchise, to Indianapolis for Greg Bell, Owen Gill, three first-round draft choices and three second-round draft choices. Because of a contract dispute, the county’s most popular Ram is gone.

April 1988 and 1989: Rams waste the six picks acquired in the Dickerson trade on Gaston Green, Aaron Cox, Fred Strickland, Cleveland Gary, Frank Stams and Darryl Henley. Green is gone before the 1990 season, Stams before 1992, Strickland and Cox before 1993. Gary fumbles his way onto the bench and Henley misses the last 11 games of 1993 awaiting trial for federal drug-trafficking charges.

Jan. 14, 1990: Rams go to San Francisco, knock on the door of the Super Bowl, have door slammed in their faces, 30-3. Game hits Orange County like a sucker punch to the stomach.

October-December 1990: Preseason favorites to reach the Super Bowl, Rams lose four of their first five games and finish 5-11.

October-December 1991: A burned-out John Robinson watches his team lose its last 10 games to finish 3-13. Robinson resigns at season’s end. Last home game draws 35,315.

Jan. 8, 1992: Rams hire Knox, three months shy of his 60th birthday, to replace Robinson. It is a safe choice, but hardly a dynamic one. At the same time, losing teams in San Diego, Pittsburgh and Green Bay hire Bobby Ross, Bill Cowher and Mike Holmgren, all first-time NFL head coaches. San Diego and Pittsburgh win division titles in 1992, Green Bay makes the playoffs in 1993.

January-June 1993: After a 6-10 season, Knox promises major improvements through free agency. Rams make no attempt to sign Reggie White, who moves to Green Bay. Despite three years of declining performance from Jim Everett, Rams refuse to sign a quarterback, such as Steve Beuerlein or Jeff Hostetler. Rams eventually spend $2.4 million on Shane Conlan, an injury-prone linebacker who gets pulled on goal-line situations.

July 1993: Knox predicts the Rams will make the playoffs.

Jan. 2, 1994: Rams close out a 5-11 season with a meaningless victory over Chicago. T.J. Rubley starts at quarterback. A crowd of 39,147 watches. Average home attendance in 1993 sinks to 45,401--an all-time low since the team’s arrival in Anaheim.

Is it any wonder?

How many broken promises is a Ram fan supposed to endure?

What comes first--fan loyalty to the team, or team loyalty to the fan?

So the Rams announce they are exercising their escape clause. Join the club. Orange County football fans exercised theirs long ago.

They, like the Rams, are waiting for a better offer.