Dateline: PALO ALTO, CALIF.
I’m a numbers guy when it comes to picking football winners and here are the most important numbers to consider in choosing a winner of Super Bowl XIX. The odds of an earthquake actually destroying either the Miami Dolphins or San Francisco 49ers on Super Sunday are 10,000 to 1, reported to be the same as the last time nature tried to shake this city into the bay.
A lot less was at stake in 1906, of course, there being no Super Bowl but merely the infancy of the future Paris of America, which has since been more or less restored, to the eternal gratitude of hairdressers everywhere.
The odds are considerably more promising that Stanford Stadium will be rattled around a little bit, something like 500 to 1, which the 49ers may be counting on to stop the passing of Dan Marino of Miami. It is the only defense that has not yet been tried.
THE OPPORTUNITY to witness this Super Bowl in person has been sold for as much as $1,000, the most impressive number ever associated with football ticket scalping. This would seem to confirm the opinion that this is the most desirable Super Bowl ever concocted, when all it really means is that folks around here never pay less than $1,000 for anything, including bread that tastes like it has already been chewed and a ride on a noisy cable car during which you feel as secure as a scab on a child’s elbow.
Parking places are selling for $100, which I believe is only by the wheel, and TV is hawking without blushing one minute of time for a cool million, the same number as Joe Montana’s salary for a whole month.
This is a Super Bowl that will be won or lost by the quarterbacks. The numbers on each of them are revealing.
Montana of San Francisco leads Marino in marriage proposals 3-1 and in weddings 2-0, making him clearly the veteran bridegroom.
Marino’s inexperience in these matters has been of considerable concern to observers who have watched the two all week, trying to determine which one is most adept at handling pressure.
Every question concerning each man’s marriage plans met with severe irritation, with Marino being the more testy, though Montana seemed to have the edge in regret.
MARINO LEADS Montana in number of flashy sports cars, having had three Corvettes to Montana’s two Ferraris. If either one should become most valuable player in the game, he will not win a new automobile, but a bumper sticker that says, “My other car is a Dodge.”
Bill Walsh, the 49ers’ coach, is very big on numbers, as one would imagine about a man who works for a team whose last name is one.
Walsh begins every game with 25 plays called “the script.” The script is never violated until all the plays have been run in numerical order, no matter the down, distance or situation.
Walsh does this to prevent stereotyping of his offense, and to keep Montana’s mind clear to consider more important numbers, such as the address of the church this time.
It also allows Walsh time to dash to the locker room and change in case he should discover himself wearing in public any piece of clothing that does not have a crease.
DON SHULA DOES not bother with scripts other than the one he read a long time ago which told him that any point is made clearer by screaming.
When considering the numerical influence of either coach, one should not look at the sideline but at the roadside. Shula is part owner of five hamburger franchises in the Bay Area, while Walsh is part owner of none.
The most annoying number is nine, that being the total of Miami defenders whose last names begin with the letter B. This oddity is responsible for Miami’s defense being known as the Killer Bees, or on occasion the Beefense.
The Dolphins and their sunburned faithful take great delight in pointing out how clever they are with nicknames, giving an identity to a defense that would be better off hiding its face behind a hat.
SAN FRANCISCO has the much better defense but has no identity except the one it left behind when its pass rush moved north from San Diego. All four of its defensive backs will be in the Pro Bowl, but so will all three important members of Miami’s offense, whose names all begin with M.
There is no telling how good Miami could be if it used the whole alphabet.
The only number that really matters in all of this is No. 13. That is Marino’s jersey number, or the number of touchdown passes he threw last week. I forget which.
Marino is the only reason anyone should pick Miami, but in all the history of Super Bowls, there has never been a better reason.
I make it, by the numbers, Dolphins, 31-24.