Boys Will Be Boys (8 page)

So, the head coach decided—What the hell? Why not try something crazy?

In modern American history, few sports figures have possessed the mythological aura of young Herschel Walker. At Johnson County High School in Wrightsville, Georgia, in the late ’70s, he was a 6-foot-1, 215-pound halfback with 4.2 speed and thighs the size of fire hydrants. While most boys were busy chasing girls, Walker spent his free time tying one end of a 15-foot steel cable to a mud-grip truck tire and the other end around his waist. He would proceed to run dozens of windsprints—20 yards, 40 yards, 60 yards. “He used to drag me over to the track on Sunday afternoon, our one day off, and we’d pull the tire until I couldn’t pull it no more,” said Milt Moorman, a boyhood friend. “But Herschel, he’d be pulling on it till it got slap dark.”

There was nothing Walker couldn’t do. He was a straight-A student who ranked first in a graduating class of 108. As a high school senior he rushed for 3,167 yards and 45 touchdowns. In track and field he won three individual events at the Class A state championships (the 100-and 220-meter dashes and the shot put) and anchored the mile relay team to victory. So enormous was young Herschel that his mother had to purchase extra swaths of fabric to make his three-piece suits fit. Walker’s upper body, wrote
Sports Illustrated
’s Terry Todd, looked “rather like a dark brown, triangularly shaped nylon sack filled with just the right number of 16-pound shots.”

After being recruited by more than a hundred colleges, Walker attended the University of Georgia, where his legend went national. In 1980 Walker set the NCAA freshman rushing record with 1,616 yards, leading the Bulldogs to an undefeated season and a national championship. “Herschel Walker!” wrote Jim Minter, editor of the
Atlanta Journal-Constitution.
“Thank God that magnificent young man is not
cutting plywood in Johnson County. Thank God for [Chief Justice] Earl Warren.”

Two years later Walker wrapped up his collegiate legacy, winning the Heisman Trophy as a junior and deciding—against the wishes of every football fan in the state of Georgia—to turn professional at age twenty. He joined the New Jersey Generals of the fledgling United States Football League, where a $1.5 million contract awaited. Walker spent three seasons as the league’s dominant presence, rushing for 2,411 yards, a professional football record, in 1985. But it was here, in an oft-amateurish spring football venture that died after three years, that the first needles were thrust into the Walker balloon.

Yes, Herschel Walker was built like Lou Ferrigno, ran like The Flash, and put up huge numbers. But he wasn’t really that,
ahem,
good.

“When it came to strength and power, Herschel was your man,” says Mark Walen, a Cowboy defensive tackle. “But being a great athlete is about much more than strength and power. Herschel couldn’t dribble a basketball. I mean, he literally couldn’t bounce the ball twice in a row.”

The USFL folded following its 1985 season, and Walker was assigned to the Cowboys, who had selected him on a whim in the fifth round of the most recent draft. He was immediately pitted against Tony Dorsett, the legendary tailback in his tenth season with the organization. Dorsett resented Walker from the get-go, especially when the Cowboys signed the newcomer to a five-year, $5 million deal. “You had two ball carriers,” says Timmy Newsome, a longtime Dallas running back, “neither willing to block for the other.” Dorsett, who had moaned about being underpaid for years, finally seemed justified in his complaint. Despite 10,832 career rushing yards and two Super Bowl appearances, he was making “only” $450,000. On the day after Walker’s introductory press conference, Dorsett held his own to gripe about a lack of respect from the organization. “That’s how pissed off Tony was,” says Bob Ackles, the team’s director of player personnel. “Tony’s pride was bruised.”

Though Walker played well for the Cowboys, gaining 3,142 rushing
yards from 1986 through ’88 and prompting Dorsett’s trade to Denver in 1988, he never quite fit in. His long-term goal was not the Pro Football Hall of Fame, but becoming an FBI agent. His interests ranged from bobsledding to karate to ballet—Walker studied dance in college, and in 1988 performed with the Fort Worth Ballet’s Maria Terezia Balogh.
^*
Walker was strange. Quirky. A word search puzzle addict. “My problem is I have never let people get to know me,” Walker said. “I have never said I was Superman. I don’t brag. I just answer questions.”

Todd Fowler, a Cowboys running back who played against Walker in the USFL and roomed with him for three training camps in Dallas, recalls a warm, soft-spoken man who “probably still has the first dollar bill he ever earned.”

Says Fowler, “Herschel only ate one meal a day. At breakfast and lunch he’d drink juice and stuff. After we’d get out of meetings, he and I would go to Carl’s Jr. He’d get a double burger and fries. That’s all he’d eat the entire day. Plus, he only slept four hours per night. You’d get up to piss at two
A.M.
and Herschel would be in the living room reading his Bible or doing push-ups or sit-ups.”

To Johnson, Walker was an overhyped enigma who, despite being just twenty-seven, was on the downside of his career. In the humiliating opening loss to the Saints, Johnson ran Walker a grand total of ten times for 13 yards. When the Pro Bowler complained aloud about the lack of opportunity, Johnson fired back to the press. “Last year Herschel rushed for over fifteen hundred yards,” he said, “and Dallas won only three games.” Though Walker’s activity level increased the next few Sundays, neither side was happy.

“Truthfully, we weren’t that excited about Herschel Walker,” says Johnson. “I wanted a nifty back and he didn’t have that.”

One morning during a meeting of offensive coaches at Valley Ranch, Johnson charged into the conference room and made an announcement. “I’ve got a solution for the problem!” he said.

“What problem?” asked Hubbard Alexander, the team’s receivers coach.

“Our team,” said Johnson. “We have to make a big trade, and I know who we’re gonna put out there.”

The coaches started throwing out names.

“Michael Irvin.” Nope.

“Steve Walsh.” Nope.

“Jim Jeffcoat.” Nope.

“We’re gonna put big ol’ No. 34 on the board,” said Johnson. “We’re gonna trade Herschel Walker for picks and players, and we’re gonna make a killing.”

David Shula, the team’s offensive coordinator, was aghast. “But Jimmy,” he said, “he’s the only thing we’ve got.”

Johnson was unmoved. “Well,” he said, “we’re terrible with Herschel, we’ll be terrible without Herschel.”

Before long, Cleveland and Minnesota were battling one another for Walker’s services. The first nibble came from Browns GM Ernie Accorsi, who called Johnson and offered a package of draft picks. “I told Jerry that we had a deal on the table, but let’s see if we can do better,” says Johnson. He telephoned Mike Lynn, the Vikings’ GM, and informed him Walker was off the market—
almost.

“We might have an interest,” Lynn said, playing coy.

“You
might
?” Johnson snickered. “Well, here’s the deal. We’ve got to respond to the offer we have by the end of the day. So if you’re interested, you’ll have to get back to us before then.”

Within forty minutes, Lynn faxed Johnson a proposal. “It’s good,” Johnson said. “But you’ve gotta do better.” When Lynn called back, he presented the Cowboys with a package that made Johnson’s extremities go numb. In exchange for Walker, the Cowboys’ third-and tenth-round draft picks in 1990, and their third-round draft pick in
1991, Minnesota would send Dallas its first-and second-round picks in 1990, ’91, and ’92, a third-round choice in 1992, and five players—running back Darrin Nelson, linebackers Jesse Solomon and David Howard, cornerback Issiac Holt, and defensive end Alex Stewart.

Bingo!

Before the trade was officially announced, Johnson approached Shula and said, “I’ve got good news and bad news.”

“Well,” said Shula, “what’s the good news?”

“The good news,” said Johnson, “is that we’re gonna be awesome.”

“What’s the bad news?” Shula asked.

Johnson squealed like a sorority girl: “I just traded Herschel Walker to make us awesome!”

Shula immediately searched for the nearest ledge.

“Herschel was all we had,” he says. “Everyone else was a bunch of nobodies.”

Like Shula and the majority of Cowboy fans (who tied up the organization’s phone lines for hours with blistering calls), the media was less than enamored. Wrote Mike Rabun of United Press International:

Though Johnson (and, to a lesser extent, Jerry Jones) would eventually be hailed with pulling off the most lopsided trade in NFL history, 99 percent of the (dis) credit must go to Lynn, a nice man, a good dresser, and a lousy football executive. While the Cowboys viewed Walker as productive-yet-flawed, a wide-eyed Lynn envisioned the Herschel of Johnson County High barreling over hapless defenders. “Mike Lynn was a businessman, not a football guy,” says Ackles. “He didn’t talk to any of the Vikings’ personnel guys before making the trade, he didn’t consult [head coach] Jerry Burns. When those guys found out, they were livid.”

Had he sought the input of Burns, Vikings personnel administrators Jerry Reichow and Frank Gilliam, or any of the team’s players, Lynn would have been warned about selling the farm for a battered mule. “Herschel wasn’t a thousand-yard guy,” explains Lynn. “He was a fifteen-hundred-yard guy and he took magnificent care of himself. It just didn’t work out.”

Because of the uncommon complexity of the deal, media outlets initially reported that Dallas received five veterans and a couple of picks for Walker. In fact, each veteran player was assigned a draft value—Solomon a No. 1 in 1990; Howard a No. 1 in 1991; Nelson a No. 2 in 1991; Holt a No. 2 and 3 in 1992; Stewart a No. 2 in 1990. If any of the players were not on the Cowboys’ roster as of February 1, 1990, Johnson and Co. would receive the assigned conditional picks. Lynn, being—
what’s the kind way to say this?
—unwise, assumed Dallas would choose to hold on to the veterans. That fantasy vanished when Dallas immediately cut Stewart (“Looked like Tarzan, played like Jane,” says Ackles). “They outsmarted themselves,” says Johnson. “They sent us a bunch of guys they thought they could live without, thinking they were better than anything we had. Which they were. But it didn’t matter.”

Nelson greeted the deal apprehensively. Then he attended his first Dallas practice. “They ran a trap play,” Nelson says, “and two offensive linemen trapped each other and fell over. After eight years in the league, I didn’t need that.” Nelson asked Johnson for a trade, and the coach barely flinched. “Fine,” he said. “No problem.”

Upon arriving at Valley Ranch, Howard and Solomon were pulled aside by an apologetic Jones. “I hate to say this,” the owner said, “but your time here is probably short. So just sit down, play special teams, don’t complain to the media, and we’ll take care of you.”

The two men nodded. What could they say?

Meanwhile, Walker was greeted in Minnesota with Beatles-like fervor. The Cowboys had paid him a $1.25 million “exit bonus” to accept the deal (as well as ten first-class airline tickets), and the Vikings threw in the free use of a house and a Mercedes-Benz. “Herschel,” Burns said at the introductory press conference, “I want to welcome you to the Minnesota Vikings. I’d like to see [the football] going across that end zone about ten times a game.”

Though the trade was difficult to analyze at the time, its impact was monumental. This wasn’t Lou Brock for Ernie Broglio. This was Lou Brock, Ernie Banks, Ron Santo, and Billy Williams for Ernie Broglio. Over time Johnson, always eager to trade a high draft pick for a bushel of lower ones, turned the Vikings’ package into nineteen players—including running back Emmitt Smith, cornerback Kevin Smith, safety Darren Woodson, cornerback Clayton Holmes, and defensive lineman Russell Maryland.

And what of Herschel Walker?

In his debut with the Vikings, Walker first touched the pigskin on a kickoff and returned the ball 51 yards. Minutes later, he took his initial handoff from quarterback Tommy Kramer and ran 47 yards up-field. “Not bad,” a beaming Lynn said in the Metrodome press box. “Two plays, a hundred yards.”

Walker produced the best rushing effort by a Viking in six years, compiling 148 yards on 18 carries in a 26–14 victory over the Packers.
Wrote Michael Wilbon of the
Washington Post:
“Maybe the Minnesota Vikings didn’t give up enough for Herschel Walker. What a bargain.”

The euphoria lasted for a week. Walker was the wrong back for the Vikings, whose offensive line relied on stunts and traps, not straight-ahead physicality. Minnesota finished the season 10–6 and lost its opening postseason game. Walker ended with 669 rushing yards in eleven games. A hot T-shirt in town read THE H-BOMB HAS LANDED ON MINNESOTA.

“When we brought him here, there went our Super Bowl hopes,” said Vikings safety Joey Browner. “There went our future.”

Months after the deal was completed, Jones and Lynn met in a conference room at the NFL owners meeting in New Orleans. Ackles had prepared a letter to NFL commissioner Paul Tagliabue stating that the Cowboys were going to release all the players acquired in the trade. A copy was presented to Lynn.