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were continuing their maddening, never-ending tactic of sticking with one quarterback until that person messed up. Avellini, underwhelming in all phases, started the first three games before giving way to Evans, an athletic phenomenon whose balls went everywhere but straight. “Vince,” said Tim Clifford, one of Evans’ backups in later years, “was a quarterback who would have been better off playing linebacker.” He lasted three starts as well, until Mike Phipps, thirty-two years old and in his tenth NFL season, took over. Together, the three men combined for fifteen touchdowns and sixteen interceptions. “We all got along well, because I think we bonded over the pathetic nature of our offense,” said Avellini. “Me, Vince, and Mike were fighting for the job, and we had no receivers to speak of. San Diego gets rid of a wide receiver like John Jefferson [after the 1980 season], and instead of finding a way to get him, we get Golden Richards, the worst player I ever played with. That kind of thing brought us quarterbacks even closer. People blamed us, and probably with some good reason. But we weren’t alone. The efforts to improve our team were pathetic.”

Particularly depressing was the Bears’ October 28 trip to San Francisco, where they faced a 49ers team coached by Bill Walsh, the man Finks failed to hire as head coach. Though he was burdened with a shabby roster filled with crumbs and leftovers, Walsh’s revolutionary West Coast offense rolled up 455 total yards against the Bears. Steve DeBerg, a quarterback no more talented than any of Chicago’s, passed for 348 yards and three touchdowns, and the Bears could only watch and dream. Though they won 28–27, it felt like a defeat. “To think of what we could have been doing under Walsh,” said Avellini. “It was torturous.”

By virtue of their 10-6 record, on December 23 the Bears traveled to Philadelphia to play in the NFC Wild Card game. Though the Eagles captured the NFC East title with an 11-5 mark, Chicago’s players were confident. When asked about Harold Carmichael, Philadelphia’s star receiver, defensive back Allan Ellis shrugged. “What about him?” he said. “The thing about Carmichael is you have the challenge of not forgetting the other receiver . . . I forgot his name.”

“We have as good a chance to go to the Super Bowl,” added Armstrong, “as any other team.”

Known throughout the league as home to the most vile, most insidious fans, Veterans Stadium was a miserable place to play. The screams were loud, the taunts were tasteless, the artificial surface flimsy and unforgiving. Yet despite being three-point underdogs, the Bears came ready to play. Payton punched it in for two first-half touchdowns, and at halftime Armstrong’s scrappy team held a 17–10 lead.

Early in the third quarter, on first and ten at their own fifteen, the Bears called for Z Crack 28. Phipps handed the ball to Payton, who—despite suffering from a painful pinched nerve in his shoulder—busted wide right, turned upfield and took off. He ran eighty-four yards to the Eagles’ one before being pulled down by cornerback Herm Edwards. “That was the prettiest run I’ve ever seen,” said Claude Humphrey, an Eagles defensive end. “I was on the field, and the way he ran after he broke into the secondary, he looked like a fine racehorse taking off into the open.”

There was one problem. Seconds before the ball was snapped, receiver Brian Baschnagel moved. The left-to-right trot was legal to everyone in the stadium, but not referee Red Cashion, who threw a flag and penalized the Bears for illegal motion. “The official told me I was going toward the line when the ball was snapped,” said Baschnagel. “I was confused and uncertain about what I’d done. The next training camp Dave McNally, the NFL’s head of officials, came to talk to us about the rules. He walks into the room and said, ‘Before anyone says anything, it was a bad call.’ ” Payton’s eighty-four-yard scamper was voided. Momentum vanished. “From there,” wrote the Tribune’s Bob Verdi, “the Bears slipped from great expectations into the Schuylkill River.”

Chicago wound