Emmitt Smith is like a waterfall relentlessly cascading.
Barry Sanders is like whitewater, splashing, swirling, springing against, under, over, around the rocks.
Either way, as each seeks his own level his own way, a tackler is going to get wet.
Together, they put on a wonderful show on Monday night, reminding football fans just how well this game can be played. This was Sayers and Payton on the same field in their prime. It was football’s Bird and Magic.
The 20-17 overtime victory by the Detroit Lions over the Dallas Cowboys was marvelously incidental. When millions someday reminisce about seeing Sanders and Smith run themselves ragged, they will wonder who won. Outside of Detroit and Dallas, they will not care.
Their numbers indicate defensive shortcomings on both sides. To the contrary, conceding neither could shut down the other, each defense was happy just to contain. Smith’s 6-yard sweep was their only scoring play in 76 attempts between them.
When Sanders and Smith weren’t dragging themselves off the field between their nearly identical performances (Sanders 40-194, Smith 29-143, 7-40 receiving), they were sneaking peeks at one another. They weren’t gawking on the sidelines with their teammates, but they were at least glancing at the giant Texas Stadium TV screens.
Even before the game, Smith acknowledged his plans to reporters: “When you’re on the sidelines, you’re looking up at the screen seeing exactly what he’s going to do, because every time the guy touches the ball you’re looking at probably a chance at that run being the best run in NFL history.”
Said Sanders: “I don’t really get a chance to see him run a whole lot. Obviously, he’s pretty good. We just go out and do our job and let everybody else make all of the analogies. We’re different, and I think it’s just depending on what you like in a running back. Part of being an adult is being comfortable with other people’s success as well as your own. I think I’m more prone to try to make a guy miss, give you shoulder fakes and stuff like that. He’s more the type who reads his blocks a lot longer, more patient.”
Leave analogies to coaches. Detroit’s Wayne Fontes, saved from the embarrassment of terrible clock management at the end of regulation, took a stab:
“You saw Barry have a better game today. Next week, Emmitt may have a better game. It’s hard to compare them because they’re such different runners. Emmitt will hit that hole right away and pick up four or five yards every time. Barry may wait on the hole and kick it outside, where he may lose a few yards, or he may pick up 15. It’s not even really a fair comparison. Either way, you can put your hand in the basket and come out with a pretty darn good back.”
Dallas coach Barry Switzer called Sanders “the most dangerous back in the NFL.” He said it with an I-told-you-so smirk. This might be Switzer’s first season in the NFL, but he knew about Sanders long before the NFL did.
Switzer recalled watching film while getting his Oklahoma team ready for Oklahoma State.
“They had a heck of a back named Thurman Thomas,” Switzer said. “All of a sudden this team kicks off, and this other back takes it 100 yards. A few plays later, they kick off again, and this back goes 100 yards. Then they put him in the game at tailback.
“I walked into the offensive coaches’ room, where they were studying the defense, and I said, `I’m going to tell you guys something. You’d better hope Thurman Thomas doesn’t get hurt.’ They looked at me like I was crazy. I said, `Come look at this cat (Sanders). Thurman is good, but he ain’t as good as this one.’
“The 30 years I coached in the Big Eight Conference, I saw the Johnny Rodgerses and the Greg Pruitts, the Mike Roziers and the Billy Simses, the Joe Washingtons. I’ve seen ’em all. He’s the best back in my 30 years in the Big Eight I’ve ever seen.”
What stood out as much as their yards on Monday night was their toughness.
On one play, Smith turned one ankle and was kicked in the other. He limped off for two plays. Sanders nearly exhausted himself avoiding contact, once backing out of hole with such force it’s a wonder his knees didn’t pop off his legs like buttons off a shirt.
It was the kind of show NFL Films could package and sell and probably will, right alongside those Throwback jerseys in your favorite souvenir shop. It made a person believe baseball won’t ever be necessary again.
