By Danny deBruin
Newsday Viewpoints, Tuesday, June 21, 1994
Last Friday night I wore my Phil Simms jersey (No. 11) to watch the Knicks defeat Houston in game 5 and to see O.J. Simpson make his last run. The Rangers had marched in Manhattan earlier that day. What a day for sports fans.
One Melville bar I visited had its walls lined with television sets. There was a dance floor with people bumping and grinding to loud dance music as the silent TV sets showed the Knicks and Rockets bumping and grinding on the floor of Madison Square Garden.
All of a sudden, NBC flashed a car chase in the middle of the game. The television spoke for itself. No captions were needed to explain who was in the white Bronco. Disco thumped in the background, O.J. sped along some California freeway, and patrons made their own commentary. “They should put up a road block,” one patron repeatedly said, echoing what everyone else in the bar ws saying.
But the scene in Los Angeles wasn’t written by a TV scriptwriter. Nobody was trying to shoot out O.J.’s car tires; no action hero was jumping on the roof of O.J.’s friend’s Bronco to bring him to justice. This frustrated fans, even the ones who sarcastically rooted for the National Football League Hall-of-Famer.
Barroom clowns found their opportunity as Hertz Rent-A-Car jokes were made-- “I hope it’s a Hertz,” said one clown. The D.J. played “Bad Boys,” the theme song to the hit television series, “Cops.”
One joker said CBS needed John Madden to do the commentary for O.J.’s run. “They need the CBS chalkboard,” he said. He then made a few Maddenesque “booms!” to describe O.J.’s plight. “O’J.’s cutting up the center of the LA freeway and look at the hole he’s got! Boom! He could go… all… the… way!”
The last minutes of the Knicks game reappeared magically on TV. The Rockets took the Knicks to the edge, stalling the Knicks with obligatory fouls in the last minutes of the game, trying to prevent the inevitable: a loss to the Knicks.
The Rockets were beaten, all right, and O.J., who also spent an entire night stalling, finally gave in. The television cut back and showed us all, O.J. would be charged with an eleven-ninety-two-point-seven (1192.7), the section of the California penal code applicable in the case. Beer was swilled and spilled.
My friends and I left that bar and went to another, which had a number of large bouncers who must have played football in high school and college. They instantly identified the 11 on my jersey. “That was low,” one said of the New York (New Jersey) Giants release of the quarterback who led them to two Superbowls.
“Phil,” one bouncer said, holding his fist up high, in tribute to Simms.
One guy thought I was wearing a Mark Messier No. 11 jersey-- the team colors of the Giants and Rangers are similar. I told him it was a Phil Simms jersey, and I just put it on that night. It sort of just happened.
It all just sort of happened.
