
Paul Zimmerman reports from Anaheim on Sunday's Rams- 49ers game: It was a textbook lesson on offensive football, and after it was over, after San Francisco had risen from the dead to hand the Rams their first defeat of the season 28-14, everybody was trying to figure out what was the best throw Joe Montana made out of a hatful of memorable ones. "A nine-yard squareout to Jerry Rice," said 49er Ronnie Lott. "One of the hardest throws I've seen him make in my five years here." "The swing pass to Roger Craig," said offensive coordinator Paul Hackett. "The one where Roger ran for 73 yards. Gary Green was right on him and Joe put it under Green's hip pads. Perfect touch." Then there was Montana's 35-yard TD to Craig with a blitzing defensive back, Vince Newsome, in his face. Joe darted to his right and went in the air with a kind of scissors kick and laid the ball into Craig's hands like a feather, 20 yards downfield. Montana hit Wendell Tyler with a perfect-touch pass in the left corner for a TD, and he put one softly into Rice's hands 50 yards downfield (it was dropped). "Can't throw deep, huh?" said wideout Dwight Clark. "A man can't throw a deep one any better than that." San Francisco put together four long scoring drives in its first five possessions and ended the game before halftime, when it was 28-0. The Rams, with the NFL's second best defense, had been giving up 273 yards a game. The Niners got 323 in the first half alone. Thanks to Montana's big day (22 of 30 for 306 yards, three TDs and no interceptions), they're back among the living at 4-4 and in the thick of a nine-team wild-card race in the NFC. And the nagging questions that have plagued this team and its quarterback during the rocky start can be laid to rest—at least for a week. "We reminded the public we are the reigning champions," said coach Bill Walsh. "And we can play accordingly." What price does an NFL coach pay for success? Listen to Redskins coach Joe Gibbs talk about his job. Sometimes during the season, Gibbs, 44, arrives at his office at 9 a.m. Monday and doesn't leave until Thursday night. "It's the only way I've been able to do it," Gibbs says. "I know it's crazy. My best friend called from Tampa, and he said, 'I think there's something wrong with our relationship.' I said, 'Why?' And he said, 'You don't return calls.' You've got to understand. There isn't an hour in there to do anything extra. I need to call Pat [ Gibbs's wife] when I get a chance. "At different times I've said, 'Hey, this team is probably going to go, no matter what I do. I kind of sit back for a day or two, and the team seems like it's going to fall on the floor. At least this way, if I fail I can always say I did everything I could do—biting, clawing, scratching, climbing the walls—to get ahead."
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