Thursday, Jan. 31, 08

Hail the Football Gods

Football fans said goodbye to the Orange Bowl and hello to their idols

By David Quinones

Former Miami Dolphins quarterback Dan Marino signs autographs at the Orange Bowl on Saturday. Photo by Richard M. Brooks

Ken Dorsey is the Orange Bowl. The lean, 6-foot-4-inch, third-string quarterback is an afterthought today compared to what he was. Once upon a time, in January 2001, the California-born Miami Hurricane was on top of the world. In one hand he held the Rose Bowl Most Valuable Player Award, in the other college football’s national championship trophy, which he brought home to the University of Miami, the fifth championship in the school’s history. During his college career, Dorsey lost only once, in three-plus seasons as a starter and rewrote the school’s passing record.

Then came the NFL, a few doomed years in San Francisco and an exile north to Cleveland, where he now sits behind budding star Derek Anderson and Brady Quinn, a marketing agent’s wet dream. With a freshly signed contract, he has settled nicely into the anonymous role of third-string quarterback.

In Cleveland, Dorsey can walk down the streets unmolested. Not so in Miami, where Orange Bowl Farewell Festival patrons gathered one last time on Saturday to say goodbye to the 80,010-seat metal public health hazard, and screamed his name as he walked along the south bleachers answering questions. The event was used to sell off the last marketable bits of the stadium and bid adieu to the home of five Hurricanes championships, two Dolphins championships and five Super Bowls. And it was the last chance to see Miami football heroes take the field — if only for a flag football game —in the most historically important pigskin stadium ever built.

Long time Dolphins and Hurricanes fan Richard Molinary bids farewell to the Orange Bowl.  Photo by Richard M Brooks

“I think quarterback is that one position that’s meant so much to this place,” Dorsey said, and continued talking, without pause, as a girl no more than five yards away screamed her undying love for him and her desire to perform certain acts on him. “Some of the quarterbacks that have been through here, really visible guys, all the UM guys, Marino, they helped make games here so much fun to watch and established the programs.”

No one expected Dorsey to lead the Hurricanes to their fifth national championship in 18 years in 2001. Now, seven years later, Dorsey will go down in history as the last great passer to call the stadium home.

It will take more than a few years of disrepair, leaky bathrooms or a seat at the end of the Browns’ bench to make Miami forget the Orange Bowl or Dorsey. For now, Dorsey still eats for free in Little Havana, and he probably always will. That’s what a 38-1 Canes starting record will get you.

Constructed in 1937 for UM’s football team, the Orange Bowl became the Miami Dolphins’ home stadium in 1966. The Dolphins had a series of home-game winning streaks in the 1970s, and the Hurricanes won 58 consecutive home games between 1985 and 1994.

But the Dolphins vacated the Orange Bowl in 1987, fleeing to the impersonal confines of Joe Robbie Stadium. Then, in August 2007, UM President Donna Shalala announced that the Hurricanes also planned to move to Joe Robbie Stadium, now known as Dolphin Stadium. Soon after, officials from Miami-Dade County and the city of Miami announced plans to build a new stadium for the Florida Marlins where the Orange Bowl now stands. Its demolition is slated for February.

Fans dutifully stood in line Saturday so ex-players could sign the memorabilia fans purchased earlier that day. Up for grabs were Orange Bowl concrete sets ($10), original stadium seats with a mounted memories hologram ($39) and, of course, the official Orange Bowl lattice display case ($199). The day was everything that’s right with fandom and consumerism — a perfect intersection between the purity of sport and the dollars that drive it.

In that way, the day was uniquely Miami: corporate, yet grass roots. On this day, Fins and Canes faced off in a game where chants of “Thaaa U” were equally as loud as “Schuuu-la.” Although the Canes won 65-51, the game mattered little when compared to the implications. The city of Miami lost an institution, and its citizens didn’t give up, as evidenced by the boos showered on Miami Mayor Manny Diaz when he was introduced.

“I don’t blame them,” Diaz said. “If I were up in those stands, I’d be booing me right now too.”

Tunnel No. 12, the heavily guarded player and press field entrance, was lined on both sides with detached, 8-foot-long orange steel awnings that once skirted the old stadium’s upper decks. Some were scrawled with signatures of Steve Walsh, Dwight Stephenson, Howard Schnellenberger and Craig Erickson, and such messages as “Go Canes” and “17-0.” Most were marked with “sold” stickers.

Jim Kelly — the ex-Cane quarterback who lost more consecutive Super Bowls under center with the Buffalo Bills than any other quarterback ever consecutively played in — hunched over one of the awnings, marker in hand, whipping off a quick signature, as members of the Booker T. Washington High School football team, honored with a patch of the field for winning the Class 4A state title, passed through the tunnel on their way out. They coolly acknowledged him as they strutted by.

“Yo, what’s up Jim Kelly,” one player said.

“What up man, what’s good, Jim Kelly?” added another.

These are tough kids to impress. They’ve been on national television, visited every major college campus in the country and, at age 18, will be some of Overtown’s most recognized citizens. They’ve grown up around the Jim Kellys of the football universe, and it would take a presence more than his to elicit a major reaction.

And just at that moment, such a presence walked around the corner.

“Oh, shit! DAN!” screamed one of the Tornadoes. His shout echoed through the tunnel as its occupants stumbled to the field, fumbling with cameras and leaving Kelly in mid-sentence. They all crowded around the man who was as close to a god as anyone in this stadium, and hopped up and down with their hands in the air, screaming at the Man with the Golden Arm. The building shook, the media flocked and everyone in the tunnel fell into step with him, yelling questions and shoving footballs and pens into the face of the world’s most famous NutriSystem salesman. Dan Marino had arrived.

Before Marino and Kelly started the game for their respective teams, Kelly remarked, “One series, that’s it. Hopefully I don’t break anything.”

Dolphins all-pro Jason Taylor, who missed time in the Dolphins’ doomed 2007 campaign with ankle problems, was eager to play the whole game. “I can’t wait,” Taylor said. “All I want is to catch one touchdown pass from Dan Marino in the Orange Bowl.” He caught two, prompting cheers and one bitter fan to yell, “Hey Jason, how’s your ankle?”

But that is the Miami football fan, unwavering in loyalty and cynicism. They have seen the best and suffered the worst the gridiron has to offer, from record seasons and unbeaten streaks to a 1-15 train wreck.

At this farewell game, allegiances to the Hurricanes and the Dolphins were inextricably blurred. Aqua, green and orange melded together in the bleachers, and Miami’s former football gods made the rickety stanchions of a 70-year-old building sway at least once more.