• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

Through the first four weeks of the season, Payton had averaged only fourteen carries per game—by far the lowest of his career (from 1975 to 1981, he averaged twenty-one carries per game). While the number alone served as an indictment of Ed Hughes, the team’s new offensive coordinator, it failed to convey the entire story. As opposed to his predecessors, Hughes, who knew Ditka from his time working as the backfield coach of the Cowboys, actually dedicated himself to establishing the pass. Even though he was but a raw rookie, McMahon was named the starter after the strike. Boasting a powerful arm, maneuverability in the pocket, and a feel for the position that Bob Avellini and Vince Evans (the two holdovers on the roster) lacked, McMahon’s presence offered the Bears legitimate offensive possibilities. “We were able to employ Walter as a blocker, which he was phenomenal at,” said Ted Plumb, the team’s receivers coach. “We’d sit in meetings and Walter would take more pride in a great block than a great run.” They could finally use Payton as a decoy and have opposing defenses bite. They could finally have Payton line up wide and not worry about the quarterback forgetting to look his way. They could finally throw deep.

Knowing how Payton had spent years stewing over his team’s dud quarterbacks, Ditka assumed the back would be elated. He wasn’t. “I feel like I’ve been on a free ride the last two weeks, getting paid for nothing,” he said after carrying twelve times for sixty-seven yards in a Week 4 loss at Minnesota. “I thought you go with what’s working.”

Having played alongside Sayers and having coached Tony Dorsett in Dallas, Ditka knew an unhappy halfback was a relatively useless one. Upon reading Payton’s words, he conferred with Hughes and insisted the Bears run more the following week, when they were scheduled to host the Patriots at Soldier Field.

The day began optimistically. Payton carried the ball on the first four offensive plays of the game, and the drive concluded when McMahon hit Ken Margerum for a seventeen-yard touchdown pass. From that point on, though, Payton—who missed a good chunk of the action with a leg injury—played a secondary role. He ran a mere thirteen times for seventy yards, and caught three more passes for twenty-four yards. The Bears, however, won big, 26–13, and afterward, euphoric teammates converged around McMahon, who passed for 192 yards and two touchdowns in the best showing of his early career.

One man sat alone at his locker, frowning.

Payton addressed the media, accusing New England linebacker Clayton Weishuhn of deliberately twisting his ankle at the end of a play. (Said Weishuhn: “That never happened. I was a rookie just happy to be starting. Do you think I’d deliberately hurt Walter Payton? No way.”) He questioned the wisdom in giving him only thirteen chances and, off the record, ripped into Hughes.

Question: Are you happy with the victory?

Answer: “I’m happy we won,” he said. “I’m always happy when we win.”

Q: Are you happier getting the ball more this week?

A: Yeah, I guess I am. [Long pause.] But I’m still upset.

Q: What are you upset about?

A: When I hurt my ankle it was on a draw play. Either number fifty-three (Weishuhn) or number fifty-seven (linebacker Steve Nelson) rolled over on my ankle, and I think it was intentional.

Q: That’s why you’re upset?

A: I can’t tell you. I’m a little disappointed. I’ll tell you at the end of the year.

Wrote Steve Daley of the Tribune in a scathing column titled, “Walter’s ‘Problem’ Has Bears on Run”:

Is there a conflict between Payton and the offense being designed by Ditka?

“I’m not going near that one,” an offensive starter said, lowering his voice. “No comment. That’s a pretty touchy subject around here.”

. . . Payton wants the burden, needs the burden. He complains about his teammates from time to time in a broad, sweeping kind of way, but what he wants from them is simply a little more effort. Work harder, the message seems to be, and I’ll do the rest.