T. GAMBLE: Falcons poised to fly to Super Bowl

It is nearly upon us, that once-in-a-century opportunity, like the coming of Halley’s Comet or Congress turning down a pay raise.

Well, wait a minute. I don’t think Congress has ever turned down a pay raise, but there is always tomorrow.

I’m talking about the rarest of occasions. The Falcons could, if they win this weekend, go to the Super bowl and then win it.

I know, and I could also win the lottery. Unfortunately, they are playing the red-hot Green Bay Packers, who rack up championships in the pro ranks like Alabama racks up championships in the college ranks. Green Bay has won eight games in a row and their quarterback, Aaron Rodgers, looks unbeatable.

Despite all this, many believe this may finally be the year the Falcons win it all. Let me go on record as saying I hope so. I’ve been with them since they began back in 1965.

I have watched more bad football in 50 years than any fan alive, except maybe an Akron fan. I once saw the Falcons get in an on-field brawl, during the game, in their own huddle. Several players were ejected for fighting among themselves.

I saw Dave Hampton become the first Falcon running back to gain 1,000 yards in a season and then lose a few yards the next play to become the first Falcon to go over 1,000 yards and then go back under 1,000 yards.

I saw them collapse against the Cowboys in a divisional playoff game when Dallas’s starting quarterback got hurt and the backup came in and looked like Johnny Unitas. The Falcons defense looked like, well, Akron.

I was at the first-ever Falcons playoff game when they beat the Eagles 14-13. Their kicker was Tim Mazzetti, who six games into the season was a bartender at a dive called Smokey Joe’s near the University of Pennsylvania. The Falcons’ original kicker was so bad they hired this bartender and, for one glorious year, he was the toast of the town. They lost the next game in the playoffs and cut Mazzetti the next year, although he would resurface one more time, scoring the first ever point in a USFL game.

They made the playoffs only a few more times and the Super Bowl even fewer, always fizzling out somewhere along the way.

They hired Jerry Glanville, for a while, and he dressed in all black and left tickets for Elvis at will-call every game because, I guess, he thought Elvis might still be alive. Generally, it is not a good idea to hire a head coach that believes Elvis is still alive. Too bad their offense was not alive and, after a few years, Jerry was gone.

The Falcons soon became the place that coaches go to finish off their career. Quarterbacks were much the same. By the time Steve Bartkowski quit the team, after several years of carnage when the NFL thought it was great fun to make tapes of quarterbacks being annihilated by big 320-pound linemen. Steve was usually the main attraction on about 50 percent of those tapes.

Quarterbacks, given the option of being drafted by the Falcons or going to Vietnam, usually chose Vietnam. Insurance salesmen would offer the guys who get shot out of cannons at the circus life and disability policies before they would give one to a Falcon quarterback.

But now we can change it all; Julio and Matty Ice, two strong running backs, and the homefield advantage. It will be the last game ever at the Georgia Dome, which still looked pretty good to me when I went to it a little earlier this year. Then again, the old Fulton County Stadium looked OK. to me.

But don’t be deceived, I fear the end is really near. A fumbled handoff at the goal line, a 99-yard returned kickoff for a touchdown, or maybe an arrest for soliciting a prostitute, which actually happened to a Falcons star the last time they went to the Super Bowl, will probably happen again.

Julio will get the flu. Matty will find out his wife left him for Katilyn Jenner. Mariah Carey will sing at half-time. Lane Kiffin will arrive before game time as the new play-caller for the Falcons. Anything may happen to run the train off the tracks.

But until it does, I’m with them all the way.

And if they lose? I’ll curl up in the bed and cry like I did as a kid when they lost. I spent a lot of time crying in the bed as a kid, by the way. Rise Up!

Email columnist T. Gamble at [email protected].