This Butt Will Be Hard To Shake

By Tony Kornheiser

Tuesday, November 25, 1997; Page D01
The Washington Post 

Bam!

**%*%**!!

Ooooh, what have I done to myself?

I was feeling so good about the paragraph I'd just written that I
celebrated by bashing my head into the wall. Now I'm seeing
stars.

I don't think I can continue to write this column. Better get
Wilbon warmed up.

Here it is Tuesday, and I'm still not sure which was more
destructive to the Redskins on Sunday night -- Michael
Westbrook losing his head, or Gus Frerotte slamming his into
the wall.

Gus must have gotten confused and thought he was Ironhead
Heyward. (Or Joe Altobelli.)

What does Gus do for an encore, set himself on fire?

I can understand exuberance. But Gus, express yourself by
jumping into the stands. Do the Merton Hanks chicken move
on the sideline. But don't Koko-butt a concrete wall.

I loved Gus's explanation: "I've butted heads with people many
times."

Key word: people.

Every time I see the replay of Gus hunching forward and
eagerly smashing his head into the wall, I think of this caption:
"Australian for `oops.' "

(You know, Gus, someday I think we'll look back on this, and
it will all seem funny. We'll stay pals, right, Gus? Remember,
we kid because we love.)

I like Gus. Everybody in town likes Gus. But what was he
thinking?

You don't suppose he wants to get traded to the Rams?

You know how in baseball parks they'll mark off where a
monstrous homer landed by painting the seat a different color?
Well, the Redskins ought to paint a yellow circle around the
spot where Gus slammed his head, and inside the circle paint a
No. 12 with a slash through it.

I knew that Gus was in trouble when he went directly back to
the bench, and picked up the phone -- and started calling
whiplash lawyers.

This is a true fact: Norv Turner hadn't known that Gus had hurt
himself. So when Norv saw Gus sitting down, he came over
and asked, "What's wrong?"

And Gus said, "I've got a headache."

I've got a headache! Hey, it's a football game, not a blind date.

Actually, I thought it was generous of the Redskins to get an
ambulance to take Gus to the hospital. I'd have been so
steamed I'd have made Gus hail a cab. (And no, there's no
truth to the rumor that Gus entered the hospital by walking
straight through a plate glass door.)

Surely it'll take Gus a while to live down this particular bit of
infamy. But if anything positive came out of his embarrassing
exit it's that we don't have a quarterback controversy.
Nobody's longing for Jeff Hostetler anymore. Not after three
picks and a fumble. (Now they're longing for Trent Green or
Trent Lott or Trent Dilfer -- oh, let's not go down that road!)
For a few weeks now, certainly since the Tennessee game,
folks have agitated for Hoss to get some playing time. The
stage was set for Hoss to come in and rescue the game. But
instead of Joe Montana, the fans got Missoula, Montana. Hoss
didn't move the Redskins any better than Gus had all season.

Have you ever watched a game any more frustrating than this
one? The Redskins had the ball 18 times, and could score only
seven points. I trust by now we've all come to the same
conclusion about this team. It's the offense, stupid. After games
like this why does anybody even talk about the playoffs?

As tragi-comic as Frerotte's circumstance was, Westbrook's
was shocking. Once again he couldn't control his temper. With
48 seconds to go in OT, Westbrook believed he was unfairly
denied a catch by an official. Westbrook leaped to his feet,
ripped off his helmet and began chewing out the official.
Immediately, it began raining penalty flags, and the Redskins
were penalized for Westbrook's outburst. Taking off your
helmet while on the field is an automatic 15 yards. Everybody
knows the rule. In a tense game nobody else on the Redskins
violated it.

The Redskins were on the Giants 38-yard line at the time, and
had to go backward to their 47. Three snaps later they wound
up attempting a field goal of 54 yards. Imagine how much more
comfortable Scott Blanton might have felt from 15 yards
nearer.

The saddest thing about Westbrook's anger is that it stained
what had been his most productive game as a Redskin. He was
fabulous. He had nine catches for 125 yards. But what fans will
remember is the sight of him tearing off his helmet -- and the
yellow flags flying. This is the devil-or-angel dichotomy about
Westbrook: He has brilliant talent, but in Washington
something always seems to get in the way of it flowering. Either
an injury or a fight with a teammate or a devastating penalty.
His career here has been in a spot shadow.

Since winning the Arizona game -- nine games ago -- with a
spectacular, falling-down touchdown catch, and telling the
press afterward, "This is what I was brought here to do,"
Westbrook has no more touchdown catches. He can make
your spirit soar and break your heart in the same sequence.
The day Westbrook was drafted Norv Turner called him a
"great" player. Unlike with Desmond Howard and Heath
Shuler, there's no doubt about Westbrook's ability. So far,
though, his run here has been more bitter than sweet. It makes
you wonder that if Westbrook finds his niche in the NFL, he'll
find it here, or on another team.

After the game Norv was as clench-jawed and grim as I've
ever seen him. "Ever see anything like that?" he said, waving his
hand to encompass the whole game. His defense had been
heroic, but his offense had been ghostly. "We're not making the
plays when the game is on the line," Norv said with disgust.

I asked him about Gus and Westbrook. I said, "If you were
2,000 miles away, watching this game on TV, and you saw the
quarterback smash his head into a wall and have to leave the
game, and the best receiver rip off his helmet with less than a
minute to go in overtime and cost his team field goal position,
what would you say?"

A briefcase was open on Norv's desk, and he was putting
some papers in it. "I'm not 2,000 miles away," he said, closing
the briefcase, and snapping it shut. 

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