THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Thursday, January 26, 1995 TAG: 9501260519
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C6 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY JIM DUCIBELLA, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: MIAMI LENGTH: Medium: 92 lines
Super Bowl press conferences are a prime example of the NFL's class system at work. For the San Francisco 49ers, headliners Steve Young, Deion Sanders and Jerry Rice are seated at elevated podiums with microphones that project their blatherings longer distances than many of the teams' pass routes.
The other players are identified by placards hung where they've been assigned to sit. Charles Mann was found Tuesday at Joe Robbie Stadium standing just a few feet from a huge metal drum containing the chemicals that keep the field green and lush.
It's been that kind of year for Mann, for 11 seasons a marquee name at defensive end for the Washington Redskins.
``Lots of times, I feel like a fly on the wall here,'' he said. ``I've sat back, been quiet, just watched what's gone on. It's a different role, and I even thought about writing the book, because this is like nothing I've ever experienced before.''
Mann, once among the most feared pass rushers in the NFL, didn't sign with San Francisco until Sept. 15. If something strikes you as odd about that date, perhaps it is this: It was 10 days after the 49ers opened the regular season against the L.A. Raiders.
``Very troubled'' Mann calls the last offseason. It is an understatement. It began when he was fired by the Redskins, continued with another endless series of knee surgeries, then a near-fatal blood clot on his lung followed by a nasty reaction to prescribed blood-thinning drug.
His tryouts with the Jets, Eagles and Dolphins wowed no one. He also suspects, but can't prove, the Redskins put out the word that he was damaged goods.
Then the 49ers called. They'd lost Richard Dent to a knee problem and wanted to talk to Mann. He told then to forget talk; he wasn't going to waste time flying west unless they were serious about signing him.
``I packed two days of clothing and never left,'' he says smiling.
Talk is cheap, and so is the contract Mann signed: a one-year minimum wage deal worth $165,000, plus minor incentives.
He had this notion that he'd be some kind of team Svengali, that the young players would crowd around his locker and he'd dispense all those pearls of wisdom he learned in Joe Gibbs' sweatshop.
``These guys could care less about what I have to say,'' Mann admits. ``Bryant Young (a rookie No. 1 draft choice) is the exception. He's an old-school guy. The others have their own drummer and their own beat. When I was a young player I wanted to hang with the old guys. I wanted to get close to them, to hear what they had to say. Not these guys.''
Maybe Mann never became the leader he envisioned because he rarely played. In 13 games, he made just 12 tackles. His only sack came, ironically, near the end of a 37-22 pasting of Washington.
As he climbed off John Friesz, Mann's teammates gleefully pointed to him, then to the crowd at RFK Stadium, as if to chastise the organization for having cut adrift a good man.
``Being here was like a dream come true,'' Mann said. ``I talked to a lot of my buddies on the Redskins about the struggles they went through. Then to come to this atmosphere, one of total winning. What a difference.''
Take away the pads and the helmets, and almost nothing is the same between the 49ers, who won four Super Bowls, and the Redskins, who won two of three under Gibbs.
``Joe Gibbs' teams were blue collar, they didn't receive accolades, they worked closely together,'' Mann explains. ``This team is a bunch of superstars. There are a lot more individuals on this team.''
There's more. Gibbs insisted his teams scrimmage almost every practice. When you ran off the field at Redskins Park, the day was over and your body was spent.
``Here, the emphasis is on the mental aspect of the game, getting ready to play,'' Mann said. ``There's no emphasis on hitting, they believe in running, a lot of running, which we do after every practice. You have to save something for that.
``But I tell people it's almost like being in a country club.''
The only way Mann likely will play Sunday is if the 49ers do what everyone expects and blow out to an early lead. Dent is back, so there is a good chance Mann will spend Sunday evening on the sidelines, a privileged spectator.
It's not the ideal way to go out; than again, Mann says he isn't going anywhere, except to maybe another team.
He wants to continue playing pro football. He still believes he can contribute. That's a strange, illogical sentiment for a man who says he was ``90 percent'' committed to retiring in September.
The man who came to San Francisco to teach others learned something himself - that he is no longer in the game for the money. He plays for the fellowship, for the thrill of the chase and the ecstasy of the catch.
And he plays because he never dreamed the most trying spring of his life would come this close to being one of his most triumphant winters. ILLUSTRATION: Photo
Former Redskins star Charles Mann is content to just contribute in
San Francisco.
by CNB