A funny thing happened on the way to the Super Bowl

Ah, yes.

The Super Bowl.

Been there, done that. More often than I care to count.

Except...

There was a year when my trip to New Orleans for the big bowl might have ended early.

And quite abruptly.

I was booked and comfortably seated on a charter with the Denver Broncos, when a 235-pound linebacker approached from the back and announced that I had to get off the plane.

Ordinarily, that would have been no problem.

In fact, some airline had provided the Broncos with a godawful orange craft for the trip, and it was an embarrassment just to board the thing.

However, when backup linebacker Godwin Turk put his hand on my shoulder to announce that I’d be departing, we were not still sitting at the terminal with mobs of fans waving goodbye.

We were flying at 37,000 feet.

My first thought, by the way, wasn’t that Turk’s weird threat was scary.

No, more like it was just plain strange.

I’d covered the Broncos all season as a columnist — as opposed to the job of a beat writer, who sees the team every day and gets tight with everyone down to the equipment guys.

IT’S NOT the same for a columnist.

Obviously, if you’re handling that gig for the Denver Post, sure, you’ll be around the Broncos a lot.

I’ll widen that picture for you.

In Colorado, it is almost impossible to write too much about the Denver Broncos.

Folks in that part of the world might care about their other major league teams — they’ve won Stanley Cups, for heaven’s sake — but the Broncos are like their children.

It’s just a different thing.

Trust me.

Anyhow, a columnist in Denver will know all the key players, and plenty more who have specialty roles.

Almost certainly, you will write columns on the punter, on the placekicking game, all of that stuff.

But despite hanging around the Broncs from training camp in Fort Collins all the way onto this flight to the Super Bowl that season...

I’d never said a word to Godwin Turk.

I’d never written a word about Godwin Turk – unless it was some general thing about kick coverage or whatever.

Nor had Godwin Turk ever previously said a word to me.

Not until he decided I should exit the aircraft early, with no right to tag along and visit the Louisiana Superdome with this football team.

Of course, there WAS a back story to all this...

THAT WAS my first year in Denver.

It was also the first time the Broncos had enjoyed a lick of success — they’d never made the playoffs in 17 previous seasons, either in the American Football League (where they were born) or in the NFL.

There was summer excitement when I arrived, though.

The Broncos had gone 8-6 the previous season — the league’s 16-game schedule was two years away — and appeared to have strung together one of the league’s best defenses.

That proved to be true, by the way, which is how we were even on that plane to the Super Bowl.

Denver allowed just 10 points per game, and consider this: Playing a 3-4 front, naturally that leaves eight of your defensive starters off the line of scrimmage.

In 1977, all eight of those Broncos had at least one interception.

If you want to take ages of research to see if that’s been done before or since, be my guest.

I’ll take a wild stab and say no.

Back in preseason, the Broncos — at least some of them — were very vocal that the Orange Crush attack (and a pedestrian but useful offense led by 34-year-old QB Craig Morton) would produce Denver’s first playoff team.

Safety Bernard Jackson was one of the most outspoken, and I discovered much later that Jackson hung out in a group including one Godwin Turk.

IT’S NOT as though I arrived in town and started ragging any players who wanted to sound optimistic.

Far from it.

I was busy getting to know everyone, and it was a really, really fun team to cover — in particular because I became pals with outside linebacker Tom Jackson.

You’ve seen TJ on television for years now, and I can tell you that he’s every bit as humorous in real life as he seems on the screen with Chris Berman.

Quick aside: Tom Jackson provided plenty of highlights that season, but one moment of absolute hilarity occurred when he picked off a pass during a shock 30-7 drubbing of the Raiders out in Oakland.

The Broncos sacked Ken Stabler five times that day, and intercepted a staggering seven passes.

So when TJ grabbed another one, right in front of the Raiders bench, he waved the ball at John Madden and screamed: “It’s all over, fat man.”

Second aside: I became good personal friends with Madden after that season (you can find me in his first book), and I’ve spent hours trying to convince both John and TJ that the other one was really a neat guy.

As competitive as they’d been, it was a tough sell.

BACK TO Godwin Turk...

Ironically, other than bits and pieces of his special team duties, the only thing I knew about the guy — you’ll love this — was that he was studying to be a mortician.

Swell.

Anyhow, why throw me off the plane?

I honestly didn’t know immediately myself, although I put it together without much headache.

Sometime back during training camp, one or two Broncos were carrying on about making the playoffs to a TV reporter.

I knew the interviews would be the sports lead that night, so I wrote a column that would run in the Post the following morning.

The gist of it was: Hey, we all hope you’re as good as advertised — but remember that this franchise is zip-for-17 regarding postseason eligibility, so forgive the Rocky Mountain empire if we wait on planning the parades until we actually need one.

Almost the entire Broncos organization understood the tone of my column.

Almost.

Believe it or not, three or four players (including a couple I interviewed fairly often during the season) actually kept copies, all folded or smushed somewhere, mostly to use as motivation.

But also, you know, to have a laugh at my expense if they made it to the Super Bowl.

Perhaps Turk missed the “laugh” part.

By the way, I kept my streak intact and didn’t write a word about Turk after the Broncos lost the Super Bowl 27-10 to Dallas.

Or in the seasons after that.

I’m breaking down now, all these years later.

Godwin, brother, hope you’re doing well.

And if I need someone embalmed in Houston, I’ll give you a shout.

Email: [email protected]

Steve Cameron’s “Cheap Seats” columns for The Press appear on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. He also contributes the “Zags Tracker” package on Gonzaga basketball each Tuesday.

Steve’s various tales from several decades in sports — “Moments, Memories and Madness” — run on Sundays.