| Send in the clowns, but leave Mike Ditka out of this. Yeah,
in the draft’s aftermath Ditka playfully was wearing a wig styled to resemble Ricky
Williams’ dreadlocks, but the real clowns are the guys who could have named Williams
and did not. Dress them in motley. Color their faces. Have them wear shoes so elongated
that they look like paddles. They’re the clowns. They’re the ones to whom P.T.
Barnum of Barnum & Bailey was referring when he said, "There’s a sucker born
every minute." Every draft, too, and in this draft the poor fools were the Cleveland
Browns, Philadelphia Eagles, Cincinnati Bengals, Indianapolis Colts and Washington
Redskins, all of whom might have claimed the Heisman Trophy winner, all of whom declined.
Ditka got him. As much as he surrendered — all the picks the Saints had in the
1999 draft, plus first- and third-round choices a year from now — people snickered.
Iron Mike, gone soft. Ditka, that dummy.
Uh, no. When one looks at it, really looks at it, all Williams cost the Saints was the
No. 1 selection next year. What, you’re saying, about the Nos. 3, 4, 5, 6 and 7
choices this year and the No. 3 in 2000? Forget them. In the New Orleans club’s last
five drafts, the only player chosen in Rounds 3-7 who made a significant contribution for
the Saints was LB Winfred Tubbs (No. 3 in 1994), and he was lost to free-agency.
Compared to some other deals, Ditka got the former Texas running back on the cheap.
When Dallas in 1989 surrendered Herschel Walker to Minnesota, in addition to some
second-line players, the Cowboys, over a three-year period, received three No. 1’s,
three No. 2’s and a No. 3.
For Eric Dickerson, in 1987, the Rams obtained three No. 1’s and three No.
2’s from Indianapolis and Buffalo, which also figured in that transaction.
History’s lesson is that the Cowboys used the Walker deal to stock three
championship teams over a four-year period. The Rams were less wise. They largely wasted
the draft selections they received. Draft choices are empty vessels. They’re only as
good as what is put into them.
Which Ditka recognized. He also had to be aware that his is a dormant franchise. The
Saints have been in the football business since 1967 and never have won as much as a
playoff game. A year ago, they had only three crowds of more than 60,000 in the Louisiana
Superdome, for games against San Francisco, Dallas and Atlanta. In a town dedicated to
letting the good times roll, the Saints have been stuck in neutral. Ditka acted, doing
something to energize the community.
When Indianapolis, stunningly, decided on selection No. 4 that it preferred Edgerrin
James of Miami (Fla.) to Williams, Ditka was shocked.
"Shocked?" he said. "I wet my pants. That’s how shocked I
was."
At this point, in the room where the Saints were conducting a fan fest, a great cry
went up. The New Orleans faithful was aware that Ditka had reached an accord with the
Redskins that would enable him to gain negotiation title to Williams.
After Ditka moved, I called around the "City Care Forgot." At the bar in the
Old Absinthe House in the French Quarter was Bob Wangler, who had dropped in from the shop
he operates nearby known as "Hot Stuff," where lingerie meant to be worn only in
moments of the most intimate sort is sold.
"If they hadn’t gotten him," Wangler said of Williams, "the Saints
were in trouble, because they’ve just raised their (ticket) prices to $50. If they
hadn’t gotten him, this franchise would have been out of here."
At Ralph & Kucoo’s, a seafood restaurant I have frequented on Toulouse Street
— how beautifully the streets are named in New Orleans — working the bar was
Steve Levie. "I’m kind of skeptical," said Levie. "The Saints need a
lot of people; they gave up a little too much. But, from Day One, Ditka wanted him.
I’m happy, too, in a way."
In what in New Orleans is known as the CBD, for central business district, is Voodoo
Too, a bar owned by Marlene Durel, who did not have to consult the occult to adjudge the
Saints positioning themselves to claim Williams. "Cool," she said.
On the Monday following the Sunday draft, Jasen Feyerherm, the Saints’ director of
ticket sales. was reached. Suddenly, business had become very good in Metairie, where the
club has its ticket windows.
"We’ve been going absolutely non-stop since 8 o’clock this morning, and
we’re still going," said Feyerherm. "We’ve still got people out
there."
The club had had only one previous business day to compare with yesterday, according to
Feyerherm. "In 1997," he remembered, "back when we signed Ditka."
At the Saints’ compound Sunday to welcome Williams was a crowd of about 1,500. One
entrepreneur was selling T-shirts bearing the running back’s No. 34 and the words
"We Got Ricky!" They were $15, $20 for two.
Shouted Ditka: "I’m going to say it, and I’m going to say it loud, and I
want everybody to hear it: We’re going to win the Super Bowl. And I’m not
talking about 10 years from now, either, gang. Now is the future. We’ve got Ricky,
and he’s going to be the final piece in the puzzle. I really believe that."
Williams could not be better-placed. A tattooed guy wearing dreadlocks who has a
diamond implanted in one of his nostrils and a silver ball protruding from his tongue
might be, well, looked down upon in some communities. In New Orleans, Williams’
appearance won’t even be noticed.
New Orleans columnist Peter Finney tells the story that another Heisman winner from
Texas, Earl Campbell, has been after Williams to do away with his dreadlocks.
"Those people in the stands see you," said Campbell, "and they’ll
never hire you for a job."
Answered Williams: "I don’t plan on working for them."
Jerry Magee has covered pro football for the San Diego Union-Tribune since 1961 and
for PFW since its inception in 1967.
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Robert Neely|Glenn
Dickey |
