The Drive: One night in 1984, part 3

I don’t mean to alarm anyone, but this Webster show sure looks an awful lot like Diff’rent Strokes. You may be asking yourself “About what is this man talking?” but I assure you, these shows bear an awful resemblance. But apart from these chuckleheads selling us on an even smaller, even more smart alecky kid to warm our hearts and fill our nights with laughter, this was pretty much a perfect quarter of Seattle Seahawks football.

Seattle’s new favorite defensive lineman, Joe Nash, sniffed out a screen. Seattle’s favorite philosopher king Doctor Dan Doornink took time off from diagnosing teammates with giardia to catch and receive for 42. Seattle’s young quarterback Dave Krieg showed off what Chuck Knox called “that little something ... that little something that says he’s gonna win.” And Steve Largent, Seattle’s favorite everything, in getting open for his second score displayed slippery elusiveness befitting a politician. Relive with me, through the wonder of modern times that is magnetic tape, the second quarter that was.

Nash Thrashes with Panache

Here are some things you would expect the nose tackle in a 3-4 front to do: absorb blockers, push the pile, hold his ground, cede glory to his teammates, be the keystone of your front seven, contribute in ways stats can not capture, and—maybe from time to time—tackle a back rushing up the gut.

Here is one thing you would not expect the nose tackle in a 3-4 front to do: recognize a screen pass, disengage from the opposing right guard, scream like a V-2 into the right flat, and tackle Popeye Jackson for a loss of three.

Dig the earthbound superman that is Dennis McKnight trailing Nash. Joe’s slipstream is indeed slippery.

By the 12th round of the 1982 draft teams were picking water coolers, athletic wrap and for that duck-tailed dynamo Al Davis a barrel of Brylcreem. But no one drafted Joe Nash. Like Bob Feller Nash volunteered for the battle.

After a bit of futzing around, an unforced fumble by Fouts, and a short drive by Seattle, the Seahawks near perfect kicker Norm Johnson kicked a field goal to put Seattle ahead 10-0. Norm is now 14 for 15 for the year.

The next three drives amounted to Jack and another word which rhymes with trash it. Which brings us to the final Seahawks drive of the half.

Right Place, Right Time

With 3:30 left in the half, Seattle began to grind chuck. Some fella by the name of Walsh in San Francisco seems to think this here NFL is quickly becoming a passing league. He has a little hardware to support his thinking. Other more conservative coaches insist a team runs to set up the pass. Running then is foundational. But our beloved new head coach harbors another notion. Passing on first and second down is the coward’s way out. Mr. Knox won’t soon forget this insubordination by Krieg and Doornink.

Rushing to the line and getting set so fast that the Chargers defense was in disarray, Krieg lobbed one to Doctor Dan. His reception and run after the catch went pretty well.

That Burner Turner

The Seahawks took a bit of a risk drafting Daryl Turner in the second round. The Michigan State alum isn’t so well know for his spartan tastes in partying. In fact, word is, guy’s looking to buy real estate on The Hilltop. But boy can this young man play football!

In open defiance of all things Knox, Krieg fired away on first and ten from the San Diego 28. Turner worked a little crossing pattern into a reception of 15, showing the savvy to run out of bounds to stop the clock.

Never Blitz Krieg

With America’s sweetheart O.J. Simpson still discussing with America’s favorite dandy Don Meredith exactly how fast Steve Largent is, the Seahawks rushed to the line and set up for a touchdown scoring play. The consensus from these two titans of broadcasting was that Largent intentionally plays slowly. This cutting compliment proved incisive.

Largent running out of the right slot slow-played Chargers corner John Turner with a so-called “quick out.” Turner, thinking Largent decrepit, stayed far back.

As you can see above, Turner is attempting the kind of angle one might facing grandpa in a game of flag football.

Turns out gramps learned quickness hunting Jerry across the Rhine.

And toughness popping Huns in Dortmund.

With that, and following a sack by soldier of fortune Mike Fanning, the half was over. Dan Fouts was down. Knox was straining for a grin. And Don Coryell was wearing the leathery scowl of, well, Don Coryell.

Tune in next week for the exciting continuation of Hawks Swoop Into So Cal -or- Bad Day For Beach Bums.