By Bob Markus

I love sports and I love movies, therefore I must love sports movies. If you agree witjh that statement you've just flunked Logic 101. Indeed, I find many sports movies insipid, inaccurate and incredibly formulaic. The good guys always win, unless it's a boxing movie, in which case the good guy, if there is one, will often lose (Raging Bull, Cinderella Man, The Harder They Fall, Requiem for a Heavyweight)--or even die (Champion, Million Dollar Baby.) David always beats Goliath, without even resorting to a slingshot, and always on the last play of the game or the final stride of the race. Usually there are some incredible obstacles to overcome, most often posed by a cheating, treacherous opponent. Or else there's the tough-as-nails coach with a soft spot in his heart who relentlessly spurs the protagonist to an improbable victory.

So, it was with little enthusiasm that I went to see The Express over the week-end. My wife and I try to see a movie once a week, usually on Sunday afternoon. Our tastes are fairly similar, although she tends to like what I consider "weepers" more than I do and I like Westerns more than she does. We both like foreign films and ensemble movies, which usually feature several good acting performances. We pretty much like the same actors (Phillip Seymour Hoffman, William H. Macy, Tim Robbins and Ed Harris to name a few) and will usually go to their films no matter what the critics say about them. Although she can take sports--up to a point--or leave them alone, it ironically is she who usually suggests seeing a sports-themed movie.

Since we'd seen most of the movies playing at our nearby theaters, or at least all of them we cared to see, The Express seemed about the best we were going to do. I personally would have preferred to stay home and watch the Dolphins find a new way to blow a football game, but that would not have been prudent. In these tough economic times, divorce is not an option.

I liked the movie. Really liked it. The story of Ernie Davis of Syracuse, the first black Heisman Trophy winner, was not unfamiliar to me. I knew he had followed Jim Brown to Syracuse, had played brilliantly, and had died of leukemia before he could play pro ball. I did not know, although I probably should have, that in 1959 racial hatred was still so rampant on the playing fields of America.

Two of the more memorable scenes in the movie involve racist abuse--shouted epithets, thrown bottles, death threats--from fans at a game in West Virginia and again in the Cotton bowl in Dallas. The conduct by Texas Longhorn players and fans when Syracuse played for the national championship in the 1960 Cotton bowl seemed so outrageous I thought it was probably exaggerated. There were scenes of Texas players piling on Davis, throwing punches and inciting a half time brawl. "That was a little over the top," I told my wife afterwards. But when I got home I Googled it on my computer and found that even the headlines in the next day's Dallas paper mentioned "punches thrown."

The Express is not only Ernie Davis' story, but that of Syracuse Coach Ben Schwartzwalder, played superbly by Dennis Quaid. Schwartzwalder is portrayed as an old school coach who is trying to cope with a changing world. "You're not here to play games," he tells his team. "You're here to win games." While not overtly racist--after all he has recruited two black super stars and will afterwards recruit many more--Schwartzwalder seems to not want to challenge the status quo. When Davis runs the ball down to the West Virginia 5-yard line, the coach wants to pull him out of the game to let a white teammate get the touchdown. His rationale is that if Davis dented the end zone, the crowd might segue from hostile to murderous.

While his relationship with Jim Brown, who probably should have been the first black Heisman winner, seemed a little strained--Brown after all was, in the Jackie Robinson mold, a man who did not hide his feelings--Quaid's Schwartzwalder seemed to develop a close bond with Davis, portrayed by Rob Brown.

The football scenes are not entirely realistic, with Davis often leaping over several defenders and alternately knocking them down or spinning away from them two at a time. His 87-yard touchdown gallop in the Cotton bowl seems to be twice that long. But most of the incidents shown in the movie did occur.

For Syracuse football the 1959 National championship was a lofty perch that would not even be approached again for nearly 30 years. Schwartzwalder continued to recruit great running backs like Floyd Little, Jim Nance and Larry Csonka. He had some measure of success, but eventually was fired in the wake of a revolt of black players at a time when similar uprisings were occurring across the country.

In 1987 the Orangemen, under Dick MacPherson, made a national championship run. They went 11-0 in the regular season, including a 48-21 dismantling of Penn State. Unranked in the preseason polls, it took the Orangemen half the season to get noticed and they never got higher than No.4, which is where they finished. The season ended in a bittersweet Sugar bowl when, eschewing a chance to win or lose the game on the final play from the Syracuse 13, Auburn coach Pat Dye sent kicker Win (or tie) Lyle onto the field for a 30-yard field goal that produced a 16-16 tie.

There was a bittersweet ending, too, for quarterback Don McPherson, who should have become the second Syracuse Heisman winner. I had seen him destroy Penn State, followed him closely for the rest of the season, and named him No.1 on my Heisman ballot. But Notre Dame receiver Tim Brown won the trophy by a comfortable margin over McPherson. So Ernie Davis still stands alone and, now, his memory may stand forever.