While I was stationed at Lowry Air Force Base in Denver, Colorado for the Precision Measuring Equipment (calibration course) school, I managed to make it to a few football games at the old Mile High Stadium in Denver. Yes. I am a fan of college and professional football. I also used to play a little football. My two favorite Denver Broncos players were Randy Gradishar and Karl Mecklenburg. Gradishar was perhaps one of the best inside linebackers to play for the Broncos. He was their turnover king and a master of interceptions. Mecklenburg was their sack master. He loved to disrupt the offensive backfield of opposing teams. These two were a significant part of the Orange Crush. But most of the time when I went to a football game at Mile High Stadium, I heckled diehard Denver fans. They were always all about the Orange Crush. Orange Crush doesn’t even taste that good as a soda beverage. So, if you think back. Well, you might not be able to think that far back if you are a youngster. But back in the 70’s, there was a general stereotype that went around. Here’s a question for you. What do you call a person who is wearing mirror sunglasses, parts their hair down the middle, smokes menthol cigarettes, and drinks Nehi Grape soda or Orange Crush soda? Answer, a druggie. The stereotype was more accurate with regard to Nehi Grape soda than to Orange Crush. Diehard Denver fans could not reconcile my friends and my heckling with the fact that we always cheered whenever Gradishar or Mecklenburg made a great play. One game in particular when the Jets came to town, the Jets jumped out to an early lead. Then, we really started giving the diehard Denver fans a hard time. Every time the Jets offense moved the ball, we would jump up and yell. The Denver fans right in front of us wanted to kill us. But there were two big diehard Gradishar fans sitting right next to us that knew we were big fans of Gradishar and Mecklenburg. Every time the zealous Denver fans in front of us started getting out of line, these two big dudes would jump up and say, “If you mess with them, you gotta mess with us. And it’ll be damn tough to get through us.” One brave drunk fellow stood up and shouted, “Well, tell those two asshole’s to shut their faces or I’m going to shut them.” He was more drunk than he was brave. I think it was mostly the alcohol doing the talking. Cuz he really didn’t look at the size of the two dudes next to us. These two dudes could’ve been playing professional ball themselves. The bigger one of the two stood up and shouted back, “Look, you drunk bastard! You can see that they are wearing our colors. They’re just jerking you off. And you stupid idiots are falling for it. They’re just having fun with you because the Jets are winning. Can’t you see, they know the game and they respect the players.” After the game, we were afraid to head out of the stands and go to our car because we were afraid the people we had heckled would be waiting for us. But as luck would have it, the big dudes that sat with us during the game started walking out with us. They asked me various different questions about the two linebackers that I followed in the Denver defense. And I said, “They aren’t the only players on the team that I follow. But they are the most notable players. I also like to follow Craig Morton. But I think he’s on the way out, even though he is having a great season this year.” The guy said, “Hey, don’t worry about those drunk idiots that were sitting in front of us. They won’t bother you out in the parking lot. You should be all right to get home.” He was 100 percent correct on that score. We walked to our car with absolutely no problems. A couple of people asked us what we thought of the game. So, we shouted things like, “Go Mecklenburg. Intercept that ball, Gradishar.” To which we heard, “We’ll get them next time.” Then we were in our car. And soon after that, we were in traffic. My favorite team was and is the San Francisco 49ers. They never played the Denver Broncos while I was stationed there. I did tell everybody that I knew and most people that I was even slightly acquainted with to pay close attention to the 49ers throughout the 1981-82 football season. Whenever they asked why. I simply said, “Wait and watch. The 49ers are going to win the next Super Bowl.” In January 1982, the 49ers won their first Super Bowl. I could follow players on many different teams, but my team would always remain my team. And my team had always been the San Francisco 49ers since I was a child. More often than not it seemed as if the Denver Broncos were the Orange Crushed as opposed to the Orange Crush. They had to revamp their team and seek a new quarterback before their exercise in futility would lead to a Super Bowl championship.
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