The worst day (in sports) ever...

Before I begin this entry, apologies for not posting anything recently, time has been a huge factor and other things have taken priority. But, it has allowed me to think of some more hugely exciting things to write about. I'll start those things one day.

As I have posted before, I've been watching NFL football for most of my life now, and have seen some great, awful and downright ugly moments during my viewing career.
But one moment, one game, one play will always live with me and never be forgotten for it's impact on a (then) young fan. After all, what do you do when your hero is destroyed in front of your very eyes?

In 1990, my team, the San Francisco 49ers were virtually unstoppable, and well on course to contend for their fifth Super Bowl championship, and third in a row. All that stood between them and a berth in the big game, were a team that had grown in rivalry over the last ten years, the New York Giants. No strangers to each other, each time the two teams met was like two trains meeting head on. Physical games, blowout games, tight defensive struggles - these two had developed a rivalry of truly bitter proportions.

The Giants, with their blue collar, hard hitting ethos, and San Francisco, cool, businesslike and almost cocky - and with much justification. Giants/49ers games were rarely pretty, but always eventful.

I'd had a dislike for the Giants since my first full season watching the NFL, and seeing them destroy my team in the 1986/87 playoffs. The Giants went on to win it all that year, and, to be fair, were the best team in the league. Seeing Jim Burt's clean hit on new hero Joe Montana and knocking him senseless though, certainly didn't endear me in any way to New York's men in blue...

Between then and 1990, the two teams had met another 4 times, with San Francisco winning each meeting. The rivalry was there, and you had the feeling that New York were due a win - but with the 49ers juggernaut at full speed, surely it wouldn't be this year, would it?

January 20th, 1991 is a date etched in my sporting memory forever. The game was a classic defensive struggle, nothing between the two teams and as hard hitting and physical as these two had ever been. (One thing of note from the above clip, Jim Burt was now a 49er, and squaring up with a lot of former teammates.) Coming into the fourth quarter, and with the score a taut, edgy 13-9 to San Francisco, the 49ers and Joe Montana were looking to drive downfield and hopefully build a bit of a cushion between them and the Giants.

I mentioned Jim Burt again, because he perhaps contributed to the Giants mentality in the last 15 minutes of play. A low hit on Giants quarterback Jeff Hostetler around the knees clearly hurt Hostetler, although he would play on. However, this didn't go unnoticed by the Giants defense, who from that point wanted revenge. And revenge meant there was only one person they were interesting in getting to...

On a third down play, Montana was forced to the outside whilst looking for a receiver downfield. Giants linebacker Lawrence Taylor tried to get to Montana, who slowed up in his run just long enough to make Taylor miss. However, unseen by Montana, defensive end Leonard Marshall had been battling and scrambling over to the right to get through the line , and, with Montana's back in his sights, launched his 288lb frame at the unaware, 195lb Montana. The results were devastating.

I'd seen Joe Montana hurt before, and he'd had injuries before. But this was different. I had a sickly feeling in the pit of my stomach, because I knew even then, that there was more to this hit than a piece of highlight film. My spirits rose as Joe slowly moved to a kneeling position. He was tough, frail looking maybe, but no-one ever questioned his toughness. Teammates and team physicians ran over. Joe was sitting again now, and concerns were growing - this looked more serious than first thought. It was a huge hit, but Joe would get up. Surely.

The faces on the 49er sideline seemed to say otherwise, they knew this was bad. Now, Joe was lying down again, and the team doctors were talking to him. In between replays of the hit, and pictures of Giants defenders celebrating on the sideline, Joe could be seen gesturing, nodding and breathing very heavily. Another replay. Then, Joe was getting up, supported by the doctors. But  this wasn't Joe Montana getting up. Ashen faced, clammy looking - Joe looked shellshocked. This wasn't Joe Cool. Joe Montana didn't break. But I was looking at Joe Montana, broken quarterback, and I really didn't like it. The game didn't matter anymore, because even if we'd have won, Joe wouldn't have been there. It was irrelevant. I wanted to know how Joe was. The game passed and the Giants won - but I don't remember much of the last few moments anyway. I was honestly distraught.

Back then, it was hard to find news on the NFL - obviously we had no internet, only magazines and newspapers to try and find out anything that was going on. Over the weeks, the news started to filter through. On that hit, Montana suffered a bruised sternum (I don't have much knowledge of sternums), a broken rib and what was termed 'a severe concussion'. Montana also had a broken finger, which he claimed Marshall deliberately snapped back as he was crushing Montana under him.

Joe Montana didn't play again until late 1992. It was the end of a glorious era in San Francisco - after the 1990 game many big names from the team moved on. Eventually, Joe did too. It was a time I had very little interest in the NFL. And it cemented my hatred of the New York Football Giants forever.