Attractions Are Opposites

A Super Bowl is 50 men against 50 men. At least, that’s what it says here.

But if you want to believe that, just check in with the press entourage arriving at the hotel where the players are sequestered this week. They come in hordes into the room where the players will gather for the morning briefings.

They surge right past the tables with the signs on them noting Howard Ballard will be sitting there, or Richard Harvey, Carwell Gardner, Jerry Crafts, Corbin Lacina or other household names. And they go straight to the platform labeled “Jim Kelly,” where they break out microphones, camcorders, notebooks, cassettes and they jockey for position, elbowing and clamoring, awaiting the arrival of the real key man, the quarterback.

A Super Bowl is a little like a heavyweight championship fight. It’s Dempsey vs. Tunney, Louis vs. Walcott, Ali-Frazier. It’s not really Bills vs. Cowboys, it’s Kelly vs. Aikman.

This game belongs to the quarterback. As he goes, so will go his team. And the press knows this. That’s why they storm to the podium Jim Kelly or Troy Aikman occupies. Sometimes, they say “excuse me” as they climb onto a chair--or a table--where an interior lineman sits, usually undisturbed, reading a morning paper. No one wants to know what he thinks of the game. He’s merely there to block for Kelly--and then get in his pickup truck and go home. Quarterbacks go home in stretch limousines.

The two quarterbacks are as dissimilar as their teams. Aikman is quiet, poker-faced, his gaze is steady, there’s no way to tell what he’s thinking. It’s easy to think of him sitting on a horse on a mesa scanning the horizon for smoke signals or cattle rustlers. He never smiles. You get the feeling he’d be happiest alone. He’s tolerant of the nonsense but reserved about it. Gary Cooper would get the part.

Jim Kelly, on the other hand, is the city kid. He always has this half-smile on his mug; he’s almost music-hall Irish. He has miles of Gaelic charm. It’s not hard to picture him singing Mother Machree in a pub. He looks as if he’s having the time of his life.

Jim Kelly makes a lousy underdog. His team lost three straight Super Bowls. You expect him to be biting his nails, fighting off a nervous breakdown, hiding in the closet, wearing a disguise, holding his calls.

Not Kay-ee-double-ell-why. He acts as if he has won three Super Bowls. He’s as cheerful as a summer morn, uncomplicated, about to break out into a soft-shoe dance or tell a Pat-and-Mike joke. Cagney gets this part.

Even on the field, when he gets sacked, he gets up laughing about it.

Aikman looks unhappy even after a touchdown. And he could stare down a prowling mountain lion.

One guy is Wyatt Earp, the other one is a stagecoach robber.

Kelly calls his own signals. Aikman gets his from the bench. The coach probably figures Kelly would only change them at the line of scrimmage anyway.

Kelly was brought up in the streets of Pittsburgh, one of six boys in a family where Mom was the only girl, not far from the belching smoke of the steel and iron foundries. Aikman was brought up in Henryetta, Okla., wherever that is. Just saying it, you can almost hear the coyotes howling.

Kelly’s team is like him--flamboyant, daring, gambling, reckless. It’s like an elk on a picnic. Aikman’s team is like a posse. It’s grim, relentless, error-free. It shoots straight. It marches down Main Street right at you, daring you to draw.

That’s the scenario for this week’s Super shootout. Will the laughing man from the Monongahela be able to outwit the grim, dour lawman from the lone prairie? Or will he die with his boots on as usual and be hauled off to football’s Boot Hill?

Kelly’s taking the points. Kelly likes his chances. Kelly always likes his chances. Kelly would like his chances on the Titanic. Kelly would like his chances playing poker with Nick the Greek. With only a trey showing.

“Oh, I’m always relaxed,” he says sunnily. “I’m basically a very confident person, very confident quarterback. They say sometimes I ‘force’ the ball, trying to make something happen. Well, what’s wrong with making something happen? I like taking chances. If you don’t ‘force’ the ball, you’re not going to make anything happen but a 10-yard loss.”

Aikman, for his part, says: “I think the reason we’ve been successful for the past three seasons is, I was able to realize I had to be patient out there.”

Kelly is about as patient as a guy waiting for a bus two hours late for work. If they were playing blackjack, Kelly would say, “Hit me!” Aikman would say, “I’ll play these.”

Aikman looks at you as if you were a dish he hadn’t ordered. Kelly looks as if he’s about to sell you a used car. “I’ve always had a way of warming up to people,” Kelly says. Aikman acts as if he has all the friends he’ll ever need. Aikman could be the loan officer in a bank. Kelly would be the guy looking for the loan. Kelly’s favorite expression is “There’s no doubt.” Aikman says “I think. . . .”

So these two are ready to duke it out at the Georgia Dome on Sunday. It isn’t fair to say the others are extras. But neither are they exactly co-stars.

Cowboy Coach Jimmy Johnson put it in perspective in his press interview. “You’ve got to have the quarterback in this game or to get to this game. He’s got to be the guy who can walk in the pool hall, put down the money, take down the stick and put the eight-ball in the corner pocket. He’s got to be the guy who can line up the putt to win the tournament and sink it.”

Which is why the doughty knights of the press rushed right past the tables of linebackers, tight ends, cornerbacks and right guards and camped by the platforms of the quarterbacks. It’s the shootout of the ages, the fight mob would say. The puncher vs. the boxer. The dealer vs. the roller. The marshal vs. Dodge City. Never mind watching the guards. Watch the guys with the ball.

The press is right. What happens Sunday will ultimately be up to them. The odds, of course, are all in Aikman’s favor. It so happens that’s the way both of them like it. Aikman likes the odds in his favor. He knows what to do with them. Kelly likes the odds to be against. I mean, anyone can win with four aces showing. Kelly wants to do it with a trey in the hole. Either way, he’ll have this big smile on his face. Either way, Troy Aikman will look as if his feet hurt.