Nightmare at the ‘Stick

Roger Staubach led the Cowboys to a big comeback over the 49ers in a 1972 divisional playoff game at Candlestick.

By John Murphy

The other day I was tooling up the 210 freeway to my elementary school gig in Fontana when I saw it: A vehicle with twin decals on the back window. One was the Los Angeles Dodgers’ “LA” and the other the “star” of the Dallas Cowboys.

I considered, for a split second, ramming this innocent driver’s car with my late-model Toyota. Then I got a grip and drove on.

The Dodgers won the 2020 World Series and I salute them. They were the best team. But as a third-generation native San Franciscan, I wasn’t pleased.

The Cowboys are an even greater evil. My antipathy dates to Dec. 23, 1972. The 49ers hosted the Cowboys in a divisional playoff game at Candlestick Park. San Francisco had defeated Dallas 31-10 on Thanksgiving Day but had lost to the Cowboys in the NFC title game in 1970 and ’71. This was going to be a good one.

I mentioned to my late dad that it would be great to go. Somehow, he secured a couple of tickets. We drove out to the ‘Stick on a cool day to watch John Brodie and Gene Washington and the guys do their thing.

It was all going so well. Vic Washington returned the opening kickoff 97 yards for a touchdown. And the 49ers led 28-13 entering the fourth quarter. But then Cowboys coach Tom Landry replaced struggling quarterback Craig Morton with Roger Staubach. The rest is history. The Cowboys kicked a field goal. Then they scored on a 20-yard touchdown pass with 90 seconds left. Then the unthinkable … an onside kick bounced off 49er receiver Preston Riley and the Cowboys recovered. Less than a minute later Staubach tossed another TD pass and the Cowboys had won.

The Dallas players jumped and hugged and rolled around Candlestick’s dreadful artificial turf. There was almost no sound in the stadium as they exulted. It was surreal.

The Faithful were mostly silent as we trudged through the ramps leading out of the stadium.  

The agony was not over. Returning to the parking lot, my dad turned the ignition on his Oldsmobile and the engine light went on. Dang. We then sat in the dank parking lot until it was nearly empty, waiting for a tow truck to take us to a Hunters Point gas station. It wasn’t our day.