Upon further review, John Elway’s final touchdown was a Super Bowl mirage – part gift, part goof by an NFL official.
Seven years ago, as Elway’s bright-orange career faded to black during a deboning of the Falcons, the Denver quarterback took a late snap and wormed 3 yards toward the end zone. His scoring scoot pushed the Broncos ahead 31-6, and clinched the Super Bowl MVP trophy for Elway.
“John was happy. The world was happy,” remembers Sanford Rivers, the head linesman who made that call in Miami.
Except the call was wrong.
“I gave John Elway his last touchdown,” Rivers, now retired from the NFL, acknowledged last week. “He was a quarter of an inch short (but) close enough. It made no difference in the score.”
No harm, no foul? In this case: maybe no TD, no MVP. But with Ref-land reeling from a wobbly weekend of blown calls, bogus calls – and, in the case of referee Pete Morelli, threatening calls to his home – Rivers’ admission may only inflame suspicions and fuel fury in the stands. Stripes are most definitely out of fashion in 2006.
“I don’t know which was the worst call,” said former quarterback Phil Simms, a CBS football analyst who called the Denver-New England game. “There were a lot of them.”
In Denver: a pass interference that wasn’t. In Indianapolis: an interception that was (despite Morelli’s reversal). In Chicago: a touchdown taken away. Those and other bungles sent many fans into foul-mouthed fits and put the NFL on the defensive.
“We have not done a bad job,” said Mike Pereira, head of NFL officials. “We have made some mistakes that are visible and it gets some notoriety, and it gets some coverage.
“I’m OK with that. I think that’s fair. And you know what? We’re not going to be perfect this weekend. We’re not going to be perfect in the Super Bowl. But we’ll still strive to be perfect.”
A regimented group
Who are they? The NFL’s flag throwers are a cadre of part-time dentists, high school principals and bankers who undergo FBI background checks before being hired, who sometimes get nervous before big games, and who earn between $2,500 and $7,600 per game for policing the secret grabs and jabs of large men. According to the league, they get the call right 97 percent of the time.
Their lives seem stuck in Cold War strictness. They are told (by an NFL computer) where to fly each week, required to keep their waistlines trim and body-fat ratios low, reminded not to guess and urged to stand mum while angry coaches spray them with spittle and mean words. Some carry their onfield mistakes for years.
In a 1965 playoff between Baltimore and Green Bay, Packers kicker Don Chandler tried a 22-yard field goal with four minutes left and his team down by three. TV replays showed the ball sailing wide left. Official Jim Tunney called it good. Green Bay won the game in OT and, the following week, snared the NFL championship.
“Don Shula was coaching Baltimore. To this day, 40 years later, he still reminds me that field goal was wide,” said Tunney, who retired in 1991. During his career, he officiated three Super Bowls plus “The Ice Bowl” in 1967 and “The Catch” in 1982.
“But you know,” he added with a laugh, “since then, I’ve become a tremendous official on the couch in my living room, better than I was when I was running up and down the field.”
Technology changes reactions
The reason is replay. During the regular season, stadiums are affixed with 12 to 14 TV cameras, offering a second, third or fourth peek at any toe drags, knee touches and flimsy grips on the ball. During today’s AFC championship game between Denver and Pittsburgh, CBS will deploy 19 cameras, the network said.
Amid all the brisk action, officials simply don’t have time to worry whether their onfield calls may be zapped down by a replay challenge, Tunney said. But when the clock is stopped and the games are dissected frame by crisp-clear frame, fans back home are watching the bad calls in all their plasma-drenched, high-def, slow-mo glory.
Technology may help correct officiating blunders, but it also revs some of the anti-ref venom in American living rooms.
“I never complain about officiating, but that was a bush league crew,” Patriots fan Jim Veneau e-mailed hours after Denver beat New England last weekend.
He – and many other observers – questioned the pass interference call against New England that gave Denver the ball on the 1-yard line. Soon after, Veneau said, he soothed his anger with keyboard therapy.
“Sports are an outlet. Officials are authority. Americans like to lash out at authority,” said Veneau, a New York City investment analyst who grew up 10 miles north of Foxborough, Mass.
Targets of intense anger
Players and coaches love to lash, too. Unlike the NBA or Major League Baseball, where players and coaches are routinely booted for cross words, NFL officials allow more in-game venting.
“Sometimes you give them your piece of mind – and a little bit more,” Denver defensive lineman Demetrin Veal said. “But once you get it out, get your point across, you feel better. You know he’s seen you. You hope he sees (the foul against you) next time.”
Within an emotionally explosive sport, NFL officials understand they serve as a pressure-relief valve, Rivers said. During his job application, an NFL interviewer tried to rile Rivers by asking him the same question three times – a test, he realized, of how he would someday handle a vocal blistering by, say, Steelers coach Bill Cowher.
Just don’t call them out in the newspapers. Coaches or players who openly bash calls face five-figure punishments. After an official flagged the Broncos on Sept. 18 for having too many men on the field against San Diego – snuffing Darrent Williams’ 61-yard punt return – Broncos coach Mike Shanahan said, “You don’t see a lot of calls like that in high school.” The league dinged Shanahan for $20,000.
Besides, the officials don’t need much help seeing their mistakes. After each game, the seven crew members leave the stadium with a DVD of the broadcast. On the plane ride home, they watch their work on a league-provided laptop. Later, in teleconferences or face-to-face meetings, the referee and his officials discuss what they saw and what they missed.
On Wednesdays, they get their grades, e-mailed by Pereira. “The good, the bad, the ugly,” Rivers called the report card. “The correct judgments, the incorrect calls, and the ‘what were you looking at?!’ ”
The assessments are made at the NFL offices in New York, where each play is reviewed and scored. A correct offside call may earn five points, a properly flagged face-mask foul, seven points. A missed infraction may bring a three- or four-point deduction, Rivers said.
During the season, point totals build for each official. Those at the bottom of the class may be sacked. According to Tunney, four to seven NFL officials are typically let go after a given season.
But those with good grades are awarded the playoffs. Crews with the best average grades are dispatched together to the wild-card and divisional rounds. Individual grades determine which officials are given the conference championships and Super Bowls, Pereira said.
“I didn’t work in the league just to officiate in the playoffs. But it sure is a nice reward,” Tunney said. “Some guys don’t get in playoffs and it’s like their dog died.”
Bill Briggs can be reached at 303-820-1720 or bbriggs@denverpost.com.
