League Has Ended Silence of the Hams

Very, very distressing news here on the eve of Super Bowl hype week: The Broncos’ offensive line, heretofore silent, will speak.

That means more people to be quoted who have nothing to say.

One thing is abundantly clear already. You would not want these guys working for the CIA. The first time the NFL said it might tighten the screws and fine the big lugs for not talking, they made like Reggie White and wouldn’t shut up.

Shoot, they began singing like canaries this week, and the questions don’t start until next week. They are scheduled to join NBC’s Phil Simms and Paul Maguire for a friendly chat at a local steakhouse for an NBC “let’s watch the big guys chow down” pregame feature.

Come media day Tuesday in San Diego, you can now bet these overweight phonies will be jostling each other to be first in line to be interviewed by Downtown Julie Brown.

For two years now, the Broncos’ offensive linemen have portrayed themselves as Clint Eastwood wannabes, tough guys standing between evil and John Elway, and having little to say about it.

They fined one another $5 every time one of them was quoted in the newspaper, another $5 every time one of their pictures appeared in print and $50 for drawing attention to themselves on the field by acting like a prima donna or Shannon Sharpe.

After guard Brian Habib had co-hosted an afternoon radio talk show on his day off, his comrades imposed a $1,600 fine.

When Coach Mike Shanahan awarded a game ball to tackle Gary Zimmerman, the offensive linemen met in disgust and fined Shanahan $310 for trying to suck up to Zimmerman and then fined Zimmerman $1,000 for being singled out.

“Our group credo has been, ‘People come to watch John Elway and Terrell Davis and no one cares about us and let’s keep it that way,’ ” said Harry Swayne, one of the Broncos’ reserve offensive lineman.

If Alex Gibbs, Denver’s offensive line coach, had his way, his guys would not speak again in their football lifetimes, the Super Bowl be damned. Gibbs has already let it be known that he might take the NFL fine, stand on principle and remain mum.

His players, meanwhile, are wimps--and cheap wimps at that. Scared into silence by the threat of $5 fines, they’ve now become veritable magpies since being threatened with heavier NFL fines, and Alex Gibbs be damned.

“The league is the Gestapo, and it’s going to fine you for whatever it feels like,” said Mark Schlereth, starting guard. “We all talked about how the Gestapo is going to come down on us really hard, because that’s what they do. So what we decided to do is talk if you want to.”

Clint Eastwood saying sorry, I didn’t mean to appear so tough.

The NFL--by the way, just who is this big scary NFL because I know Paul Tagliabue and he’s not scary, just dull--insists that Super Bowl participants make themselves available to the media for one hour next week on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday.

On behalf of Denver’s line, it should be noted that far tougher guys than the cowering bunch assembled in front of Elway have tried to pull a Harpo Marx during Super Bowl week, only to be bowled over by the NFL--whoever that is.

Washington Redskin running back John Riggins, who declined to speak during the regular season, succumbed to NFL pressure and reported to his interview wearing Army fatigues and put on a show. Dallas tough guy Charles Haley relented and so did Pittsburgh’s stone-faced linebacker, Greg Lloyd. New England Coach Bill Parcells didn’t allow his assistant coaches to talk during the season, but they were available to talk at every Super Bowl session.

Cowboy running back Duane Thomas, the most famous non-talker, reported as ordered for his interview session and then sat silent for the hour, surrounded by reporters. At one point he leaned over to a teammate and whispered something in his ear.

Thomas left, and the reporters rushed his teammate. What’d he say? What’d he say?

“He wanted to know what time it was.”

The Broncos’ offensive line, who voted as a unit to become chatty, have been practicing this week for their Super Bowl coming-out party.

“The other day, Gary Zimmerman gave a speech to the team before the Pittsburgh game,” Swayne said. “He said, ‘Let’s go.’ I knew then we were really ready.”

Offensive linemen, of course, should not be seen or heard. They are like chauffeurs, necessary to get around if you are a star, but please raise the tinted glass between front and back seat. A Denver reporter has taken to calling the Broncos’ offensive line the Orange Hush, but now we’re about to get a full dose of Orange Mush.

As a rule, offensive linemen are proficient at only a few things: getting in the way of people, eating, and holding. Denver’s group is the only starting offensive line in the league without a 300-pounder. Every other team in the league has at least two 300-pounders and six teams started five of them.

Denver’s starting line is also notable because it includes a pair of 10th-round draft picks, a seventh-rounder, a guy who wasn’t even drafted and Zimmerman, who played for the Los Angeles Express, a USFL team.

Schlereth, a Pro Bowl guard for Washington’s Super Bowl XXV-winning team, has had 20 operations since 1983, 11 on his left knee. Zimmerman retires, unretires and threatens to retire so often that no one listens anymore. Habib, a neatness freak, vacuums the floor mats in his car almost daily and has been spotted washing his car at 2 a.m.

Tony Jones has been known to wear pink shoes with a fuchsia suit, and answers to the nickname “T-bone.” Schlereth’s nickname is “Stinky,” because he’s the first native-born Alaskan to play in the NFL and he likes stinkheads, an Eskimo delicacy made from rotting fish heads.

“What do you want me to say?” Schlereth said after his muzzle was removed and no one knew what to ask him. “Where else in the world can grown men come to work in the morning, goof off, fine each other, have a great time, eat some lunch, practice some plays, study a little bit together, watch some film and then go out on Sunday and beat the snot out of one another? Only in America and only in the NFL. The whole game is fairly silly, but that’s what we do.”

Ted Koppel and Larry King will undoubtedly be calling soon for more insights: “Ah Mark, what’s John Elway really like?”

But it may be some time before Tom Nalen, Denver’s center, is embraced by Katie Couric. Nalen, you see, throws up before most games or when he’s nervous, and he doesn’t wash out his practice uniform for the entire season because he’s superstitious.

As for Gibbs, the hall monitor for this group, he’s considered a little strange.

“A little?” Schlereth said. “Try weird.”

Gibbs, however, is also acknowledged by his peers as one of the finest offensive line coaches in the league, and kept his job after talking back to Coach Dan Reeves during Reeves’ earlier dictatorship in Denver.

Hired by Reeves, along with Shanahan, to inject youth in his staff 1984, after having worked in the college ranks for Woody Hayes, Gibbs also has worked for the Raiders, Bills, Colts, Chargers, and Chiefs. Each time he has taken a job, he has reduced the number of times the team’s quarterback has been sacked from the previous season.

That’s it. There’s really nothing more of interest to really know about these grunts. They are offensive linemen and if they had any real talent, they’d be running backs or linebackers and there might be a reason to hear what they have to say.

If they had any guts, or real esprit de corps and true grit, they’d stick to what got them here as a group, make like Trappist monks, buck the NFL and shut up come Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday.

At the same time, how about making Reggie White an honorary member of the Orange Hush?