Ron Kantowski's column appears on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. Reach him at [email protected] or (702) 259-4088.
This just in: The Cincinnati Bengals say they will reassess their security measures after a brain surgeon ran onto the field Sunday and stole the ball from Packers quarterback Brett Favre.
Given the Bengal defense had already done that five times with pass interceptions, it wasn't exactly a novel idea.
Still, if Favre or one of the other 21 players on the field had any pride, the Bengals wouldn't need to beef up security.
Several years ago the Baltimore Colts had a one-man security force named Mike Curtis.
Whereas it took the Cincinnati rent-a-cops several minutes to chase and wrestle the nuclear physicist to the ground after he had snatched the ball from Favre, it took Curtis all of a second and a half to clothesline the rocket scientist who tried to pilfer the football when he was playing middle linebacker.
A few years before that, the Chicago Bears had a one-man security force named Mike Ditka.
During a 1966 game against the Rams at the Los Angeles Coliseum, a card-carrying member of Mensa International ran onto the field and tried to steal "The Duke," which is what the official NFL balls were called during that era.
Well, Ditka crowned The Duke, and the genius who tried to run off with it, with a body slam that would have done Dick The Bruiser proud.
"The fans booed Ditka, but that was wrong," wrote the great Chicago newspaper columnist Mike Royko. "Ditka has been trained since high school to knock down anything that moves."
Favre, on the other hand, apparently has been trained since high school to take a knee.
Rather than go after the premed student, Favre and his teammates just stood by as the security force lumbered about 50 yards after him. Ray Nitschke was probably turning over in his grave.
Besides missing out on an opportunity to take a free shot and deterring future valedictorians from getting the same bright idea, Favre and his powder-puff teammates might have cost the Packers the game.
There were only 23 seconds left to play, and Green Bay was matriculating down the field, as Hank Stramm used to say, toward the tying touchdown when the Ph.D. interrupted the game.
"I was surprised that happened," Favre said afterward. "I thought it was a referee."
No, Brett, referees might get in the way on a draw play up the middle, but they generally don't cause turnovers.
Everyone, with the possible exception of Favre, thought the delay seemed to derail the Packers' momentum.
"That did slow it down and give us a chance to huddle, and we kind of came together as a defense," Cincinnati linebacker Brian Simmons said.
Fans interrupting games by running onto the field is hardly anything new. It was just two years ago that an honor student chugged onto the field at Sam Boyd Stadium to pat a referee on the backside before his was exposed -- the man's droopy pants fell to his knees when he was finally apprehended deep in Air Force territory. But he rumbled, stumbled and bumbled for about 80 yards before he was detained, which made him UNLV's leading rusher on that particular night.
But that member of the dean's list didn't try to abscond with the football, which, in the single-bar facemask days, was sacred.
Even the idiotic fans had a code of ethics back then. The one that got leveled by Ditka told Royko he never thought of suing the player. He said he wasn't even upset with Ditka for sending him flying through the air like one of Roman Gabriel's tight spirals.
"I'm not mad at him," said then 19-year-old Felix Carbajal, who was a laborer in a chemical plant.
"I guess it was just something he had to do."
archive