Impossible Reality

Considering the circumstances, New York Jet Coach Weeb Ewbank's final instructions to his team before the Super Bowl in Miami last week verged on the ludicrous. The squat, 61-year-old veteran of both leagues, still hobbling from a hip injury he suffered when his players carried him off the field after winning the American Football League title two weeks before, seemed blissfully unaware that his team was a three-touchdown underdog against the mighty Baltimore Colts, overwhelming champions of the National Football League. "Don't no body put me on their shoulders this time," Weeb said. "Two of you make a bosun's chair with your arms and carry me off that way."

If Ewbank sounded presumptuous, Jet Quarterback Joe Namath was downright cocky. Whatever slim hopes the Jets had of winning centered on Namath's arm -- and the only thing he seemed to be exercising was his mouth. The Colts, he said, were not only beatable, but their quarterback, Earl Morrall, the N.F.L.'s most valuable player, would have a tough time making the Jets' third string. Holding court at poolside or swirling a double Scotch-on-the-rocks at a pregame banquet, Broadway Joe's message was always the same: "We're going to win. I guarantee it."

Hitting the Seams. Who were the Jets trying to kid? Didn't they know that the youngsters in the A.F.L. were no match for the tough old pros in the N.F.L.? Hadn't they heard that the rug ged Baltimore defense, which held three teams scoreless in regular season play, made a specialty of manhandling up pity quarterbacks?

As it turned out for the Jets, the role of the underdog has its psycho logical advantages. Besides, Namath's confidence was catching. By the time the Jets took the field they had more going for them than Joe's wide-open passing attack. Safetyman Jim Hudson wore his lucky red silk shorts. Fullback Matt Snell, a Methodist, wore a silver mezuzah sent to him by a Jewish friend.

Cornerback Johnny Sample spent five minutes alone in the stadium washroom, kneeling in prayer. And Joe's mother was at home saying the rosary.

Everything Worked. As quick on pass releases as a coiled spring, Namath repeatedly hit Split End George Sauer in the "seams" of the Colts' zone defense; he connected on 17 out of 28 passes for 206 yds. and no interceptions.

Calling about half of the plays at the line of scrimmage, he read Baltimore's tricky, shifting defense like an open book. In the second quarter, Namath put together a smooth and varied 80-yd. scoring drive sparked by Fullback Snell. Hammering again and again at the spongy right side of the Colts' line, the pile-driving Snell ground out 121 yds. in 30 carries. When Baltimore took to the air, the supposedly vulnerable Jet secondary seemed to be operating on radar. On four different occasions, the Colts penetrated to within scoring range only to be stopped on pass interceptions by Jet defenders.

Fading Spirit. Unlike Namath, Morrall could not seem to do anything right. With the Jets leading 7-0 at the close of the first half, he handed off to Running Back Tom Matte, who started on an end sweep, stopped and flipped a crossfield lateral back to Morrall. The old flea-flicker play caught the Jets off guard, but unfortunately the pass Morrall threw to complete the play fell short and was intercepted. Had Morrall glanced to his left, he would have seen, as everyone else in the stadium did, that Split End Jimmy Orr was standing all alone within easy reach of the end zone.

So it went for Baltimore--a fumble here, an interception there. With each broken play the spirit of the Colts and the superiority of the N.F.L. faded. The Jets simply outclassed the Baltimore team. Colt Quarterback Johnny Unitas, sidelined for most of the season with an ailing elbow, finally put his team on the Scoreboard. But with only 3 min. 19 sec. left to play, the Colts were a beaten team. The impossible dream became the impossible reality: Jets 16, Colts 7.

The Jets, who had followed Ewbank's game plan ("Do better the things we do best") to perfection all afternoon, failed on his final instructions. Fearing that they would aggravate his injured hip by carrying him from the field, they left him to limp off, waving triumphantly, like an old warrior after the big battle.

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