Only Ricky Watters had a longer Saturday than the New York Giants, not that they’ve laid a hand on him yet. It’s just that busy schedule he keeps.
An hour before kickoff, Watters circled inside Candlestick Park, pressing the flesh with fans, urging them to clear their throats for the big game ahead. In a city that claims to have invented sophistication, this rah-rah attitude is usually saved for when the waiter brings the finger bowl.
But that’s Watters. He’s an engaging Type A personality, the kind of guy who could pass you in a revolving door. If he doesn’t walk in his sleep, it’s because he doesn’t sleep. Were he a radio station instead of a running back, he’d be 50,000 watts and 24-hour talk. You can love him or leave him, but not until you listen to him. On his first carry in the NFL, he returned to the huddle and declared, “They can’t stop me.”
The Giants surely didn’t Saturday. Mind you, the Giants couldn’t have stopped a food fight, let alone the San Francisco 49ers at their up-tempo best. Watters bagged five touchdowns in the 44-3 slaughter, a record broken by this broken record, but even he groped for words at dusk. Watters returned to the field for a battery of TV interviews, one of which demanded that he stare at a monitor while explaining each and every score.
“Now,” said the host, “tell us what happened on this second touchdown.”
“Is that the second or the third?” said Watters. “No, wait. That’s the last one, isn’t it? I’m confused.”
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No worse than the Giants were. They traveled 3,000 miles by air to win this playoff on the ground, but you can’t control what you don’t have. Statistic: At the end of the opening quarter, the 49ers had posted more first downs, 10, than the Giants had total yards, five. It was no way for a proud Giant defense, led by the retiring Lawrence Taylor, to excuse itself from the postseason. But the 49ers heard all about it, how the Giants would come in here and bore them to death.
“Rodney Hampton, a great running back,” Watters went on, speaking as pigeons replaced people in this tomb on the bay. “You can’t take anything away from him or the Giants. They’re great. We wanted this game, too, though. And we won it this week in practice. Fans around here were nervous. This is huge, but we have to do it again.”
“Ricky,” he was asked, “if you’re not sure which touchdown was which, is there one word to describe all five?”
“Yes,” Watters said. “Offensive line.”
Indeed, the 49ers provided him gaping holes early and often. It’s not like Watters broke tackles until he dropped. He had three touchdowns by halftime, on a total of 4 yards. He required 8 yards to collect the other two. He wound up with 118 yards in 24 attempts, a nice day in the sun, but when the 49ers decided to punish New York with a sixth touchdown, the honors went to Marc Logan. As Logan made it back to the bench, Watters was there with the handshake. You learn to spread the joy at Notre Dame, where Watters left his heart before coming to San Francisco in 1991.
“There are a lot of great running backs in this league,” he went on, black bandana atop his head. “Whether I’m considered one or not, I leave that to you people in the media. I don’t know if a day like today elevates me or not. All I know is that we have a game next week, somewhere, against another great team.”
If it sounds as though Watters never stops to take a breath, inhale. Witnesses to 49er drills found him uncommonly quiet and reclusive. A lot of folks in the Bay Area were worried about this team that lost its last two regular-season games, and the 49ers had cause to doubt themselves.
“Nope, focus,” Watters said. “That’s what we were doing. Getting focused. You win this game out on the field. That’s why my alma mater should have been No. 1. We beat Florida State head-to-head, and that’s that. You know something? I’m tired.”
Film of this offense at 11. The Bears should watch it and weep.