It has been said that true failure requires the involvement of at least one Cypriot, if only for the simple reason that the term itself flies awfully close to "idiot.” OK, I’m lying. This has never once been said and I’ll admit to casting a shamelessly derogatory slur upon the inhabitants of this tiny eastern Mediterranean island, all for a cheap laugh.
But if it’s cheap laughs one desires, one need venture no further than the film vaults of NFL Films, namely color footage of one of pro football’s most colorful gaffes: that of Cyprus' own Garo Yepremian and his blocked field goal attempt at Super Bowl VII, played in the Los Angeles Coliseum on January 14, 1973.
Sure, other football failures abound through the years: hideous throwback uniforms, Deion Sanders' tackling, the league's scandalous penny-pinching when it comes to furnishing sufficient material in which to clad its cheerleaders, but these pale in comparison to Garo's inimitable moment of athletic gaffe-dom.
Allow me to set the stage. With just over two minutes remaining in the biggest game of the year and holding a two touchdown lead over the Washington Redskins, Miami Dolphins kicker Garo Yepremian lines up for a (very doable) 42-yard field goal, success of which will - barring the intrusive hand of the Almighty himself - assure an insurmountable 17-0 Dolphin lead with scarcely any time remaining.
Here is what makes Garo's Gaffe so memorable. Ready? It is not one gaffe - breathe easy Jim "Running The Wrong Way" Marshall - but rather four! All in one play! Here we go:
Gaffe number one: The kick is blocked. Garo would later state that, during warm-ups, his kicks were sailing low and, sure enough, such proved to be the case when it came to the actual game, the ball being easily blocked by a defender's arm.
Gaffe number two: The ball slips from Garo's hand. After the botched field goal, the ball bounces to the little kicker who catches it, then draws his arm back to throw it to… well, we're still trying to determine who that may have been. Alas, the aptly-named pigskin slips from his hand, floating harmfully into the air just above his helmet.
Gaffe number three: Incompetence. In truly Keystone Cops fashion, Garo quickly decides to bat the ball toward the sideline. This he does, straight into the waiting hands of Redskins defensive back Mike Bass, who scampers--
-- But wait!! We have not gotten to gaffe number four, one that can only be deemed - and allow me to summon the spectral voice of Howard Cosell - "ignominious cowardice." As Bass sprints down the sideline, Garo has the angle on him! In fact - watch closely now - he doesn't even have to engage in anything remotely resembling a tackle. All he need do is throw his body in front of the six foot, 190 pound - medium sized by football standards - defender. Even if he should not bring Bass to the ground, his effort alone will slow the ball carrier up, allowing Garo's teammates to converge upon Bass, tackling him and thus preventing a score. But with the game - excuse me - the Super Bowl on the line, what does Garo do? He feints a move as if trying to tackle him, shattering any and all dreams of ever winning an Oscar. Bass easily eludes him, scampering 49 yards unmolested for a touchdown. With the extra point, Miami's lead has shrunk to 14-7. And with an onside kick in the offing, a successful Washington possession could tie the score, sending it into sudden-death overtime, where it is certainly possible - coin flips being what they are - that a Washington score could snatch victory from the undefeated Dolphins. (Bear in mind, Washington was favored by odds makers, and their Marv Levy coached special teams were the best in the league. Oddly, Head Coach George Allen chose not to try an onside kick.) Dolphin safety Jake Scott was said to have walked up to Garo at the conclusion of this Hindenburg-like play and muttered, glaring at his teammate, "Garo, if we lose this game, I'm going to kill you."
But the Dolphin defense indeed held and Miami went on to win 14-7, maintaining its perfect season, culminating in a 17-0 record, with Garo himself surviving to kick another day. Forget it, Jake, it's Los Angeles….
So there it is. Four gaffes in a single play, with a dollop of cowardice to boot. Surely football's most memorable gaffe(s). And in case you think I'm being too hard on Garo, let me state - for the record - that I am fairly sure my own performance would have matched if not surpassed Garo's ineptitude had I suited up that January day. Surpassed, you ask? Certainly! For had I been the one to pull that stunt, I would have immediately trotted over to the Redskins sideline and remained there for the duration of the game, adding "traitor" to my well-blemished resume simply because: "They like me more." However, I'd prefer to think that I never would have even been on that football field in the first place, surrounded by eighty adrenaline-charged behemoths. You see, Mama didn't raise any fools. Well, she did, but we drowned them when they were young.
No comments:
Post a Comment