Phoenix Hits the Crackpot

The city’s biggest basketball star walks into any given nightclub on any given night, knocks down a few . . . and occasionally orders a drink, too.

The city’s new football coach used to work in Houston, where he never punched a clock, only an offensive coordinator from time to time.

The city of Phoenix--suddenly, it’s a swinging town.

Of course, they had to import a couple Philly cheese steaks to get it done, but the arrival of Charles Barkley’s shaved head and Buddy Ryan’s big hairy ego has changed the topography around Phoenix for good, almost beyond recognition.

Two years ago, the desert cactus was the prickliest thing in the region. Now, it’s running a distant third.

Buddy Ryan to the Phoenix Cardinals. And they said he’d never work in this league again, not after committing “career suicide” on the night of Jan. 2 at the Houston Astrodome, on national television, when he second-guessed the play-calling of Oiler offensive coordinator Kevin Gilbride by delivering a right hook to Gilbride’s jaw.

Career suicide?

That punch was probably the smartest move Ryan ever made. Within seconds, Ryan’s fit of fisticuffs was on every highlight show in the country, his name in front-page headlines again. Ryan was interviewed on CNN and ESPN. He was invited to, and appeared on, “The Tonight Show,” which has to be a first for an NFL assistant coach.

Amnesia followed Ryan wherever he wandered.

Forgotten were the bridges Ryan left burning on his way out of Philadelphia after the 1990 season.

Forgotten were Ryan’s 0-3 playoff record with the Eagles and his notorious benching of Randall Cunningham in a 20-6 wild-card loss to Washington.

Forgotten were the 28 second-half points surrendered by Houston’s Ryan-coordinated defense in a playoff-opening and -ending loss to Kansas City.

Jack Pardee, head coach of the Oilers, was forgotten as well. Pardee held the title, but all the cameras and microphones followed Ryan. It was the Punch and Pardee Show, with Ryan stomping and cursing on the sidelines, with a TV zoom lens permanently trained on him, to catch him in the act.

When Kansas City tight end Keith Cash caught a critical touchdown pass, he didn’t stop running until he found a end zone banner bearing Ryan’s likeness and spiked Buddy in the jowls.

When the various football wrap shows assembled their postgame packages, Marty Schottenheimer was quoted on behalf of the victorious Chiefs, and Ryan, not Pardee, represented the Oilers.

Ryan was back in play. While his former boss, Mike Ditka, stewed in the NBC studios, griping through gritted teeth that it was still Jack Pardee’s team, and let’s stop talking about Buddy, nobody wanted to listen. With one punch, Ryan reclaimed center stage. Once there, he eclipsed everyone in the vicinity--Pardee, Gilbride, Warren Moon, Oiler owner Bud Adams, even Ditka.

Ditka, seeking the same head-coaching jobs as Ryan, was reduced to writing letters to NFL team owners. The response was always the same: Sorry, Mike, we’ve got someone else in mind.

But the Cardinals came chasing after Ryan, throwing him millions of dollars and, for heaven’s sakes, the title of general manager as well.

Buddy Ryan, in charge, without a tether, a safety net or an electric prod.

What in the world could Bill Bidwill be thinking?

But with Bidwill, that’s usually the case. He is the Mad Hatter of NFL owners, the only one loopy enough to turn the whole program over to a self-detonation device.

In a way, they deserve each other. Beavis and Budd-Head, the new cartoon stars of the Fox Football Network.

Huh huh, let’s put out of bounty on Troy Aikman and set Jimmy Johnson’s hair on fire, huh huh.

Huh huh, yeah, that’d be cool, Budd-Head, huh huh, huh huh.

That’s the thing with Buddy: He can be nasty and repugnant, over the top and out of control, but he keeps us glued to the screen.

Under straight-shooter Joe Bugel, the Cardinals were the dullest team in the land, straining to fill even half the seats at Sun Devil Stadium. Now, suddenly, Phoenix-Dallas and Phoenix-Philadelphia are candidates for Monday Night Football. Now, the NFC East needs to be re-named, with teams being coached by Ryan, Johnson, Dan Reeves, Rich Kotite, the man who replaced Buddy in Philadelphia, and Norv Turner, the man who turned down the Phoenix job before it was offered to Buddy.

How does “WWF” sound?

Two years ago, the Rams mulled the same choice that Bidwill bandied about last week: To light the fuse with Buddy, or play it safe with someone else.

The Rams played it as safe as safe can be, and in two seasons, Chuck Knox took the Rams from 3-13 to 6-10 to 5-11--two games worse than the 7-9 team Ryan now takes over in Phoenix.

Would the Rams be better off today had they gone with Ryan then?

Well, you could have counted on Ryan for at least two things.

One, he’d have never tolerated two seasons of Jim Everett at quarterback. Jim McMahon would have been brought in long ago.

Two, the Rams would not be contemplating a franchise move out of fan indifference. Fans love Ryan, fans hate Ryan, but no fan sits the fence with Ryan. He is often boorish, but never boring, and people are drawn to him the same way they are drawn to 10-car pileups on the freeway.

Hunter S. Thompson once wrote that his idea of Hell was Phoenix during rush hour. Now, that rush hour has Buddy Ryan.

The accident waiting to happen should really be something.