Sports: A decade later, still going strong

A decade later, still going strong

On June 1, 1991, businessman Bob Gries took a chance by founding the Tampa Bay Storm, and look at the Arena team now.

By JOHN C. COTEY

On June 1, 1991, businessman Bob Gries took a chance by founding the Tampa Bay Storm, and look at the Arena team now.

TAMPA -- As confident as Bob Gries was in his business acumen, 10 years ago to this day he still wasn't exactly sure his plan would fly.

Would St. Petersburg support an Arena Football League team? Would fans come out in droves to watch a sport very few had seen, or known about?

Would a group of unknown athletes playing a hybrid game bordered by padded walls and anchored by hanging nets on a field half the size used in American football be able to catch the fancy of the populace?

On June 1, 1991, Gries got his answer.

"We had only sold 3,000-4,000 tickets leading up to the game, and everybody was pretty worried," Gries said. "At that point, I was worried, too. I told (Florida Suncoast Dome general manager Jerry Oliver) to expect about 4,000 walk-ups.

"He looked at me like I was a drunken sailor or something. He said to me there's no way you're going to walk up 4,000; we just had Michael Jordan here for an (NBA preseason) game and walked 2,200.

"I said "Yeah, Jerry, but I'm telling you, this is going to be different.' "

That first night, 10,354 fans -- Gries was right about the number of walk-ups -- offered a precursor of the things to come just a year later when crowds of more than 18,000 made Storm games an area happening.

Behind quarterback Reggie Collier's seven touchdown passes, Orlando won that first game 51-31, though the crowd was more curious than crazed, and clearly unfamiliar with Storm players like lineman Tom Gizzi, wide receiver Darren Willis and kicker Paul Hickert. Chances are, they recognized special Storm assistant Lee Roy Selmon.

But with no idea of what was to come, they actually were chanting backup quarterback Chip Ferguson's name. The starter they wanted yanked?

Jay Gruden.

"No one knew what was going on; we didn't know the rules, hardly," said fullback Andre Bowden, the lone remaining player from that game. "The only thing I remember is that there were a lot of guys out there who wanted to play football. None of us knew anything about the game."

Nashville coach Pat Sperduto was a lineman on that team. He said he remembers losing, but otherwise everything that first night was a blur.

"It was like an experiment for all of us," Sperduto said. "We didn't know if it would last one season, much less 10."

For that game, players earned $400. Had they won, they would have received a $100 bonus.

"I thought, I'm risking my health for this?" Gruden said.

The Storm, which moved to Tampa's Ice Palace in 1997, won the championship the first season. Set league attendance marks. Signed Stevie Thomas, a receiver who, with Gruden, would define the franchise.

But the most memorable thing from that season was the red-and-blue Zubas-style uniforms, which were presented to the players before the first game and worn, well, begrudgingly.

"I was embarrassed," Gruden said.

It was a sentiment shared by everyone who wore them. At the time, Zubas, a multicolored, zebra-striped type of design, formed a partnership with the sponsor-hungry league. Most teams were too embarrassed, however, to wear the full Zubas, opting for just the stripes down the leg on plain-colored pants.

Not the Storm, the only team to embrace this eye-sore of a design.

"I thought it was great; it gave an identity to Arena football," Gries said. "We were the only team that went with the full Zubas on the pants and jersey.

"But I remember when I brought them into the locker room the reaction was somewhere between fainting and rebellion."

"Atrocious," Sperduto said. "And that's an understatement. They were one in a million."

Two years later, the uniforms were changed, to the sadness of some players and fans who had grown to like them.

"The biggest ovation we ever got in four years in spite of all the championships was when we changed our uniforms at halftime (against Miami in 1993)," Gries said. "The fans were out of their minds. They gave us a 5-10 minute standing ovation."

There have been many games of much greater consequence than the one played June 1, 1991. But 10 years later, it is that game that Gries recalls as the most important.

It proved that yes, the Tampa Bay area could support an Arena team. That yes, fans would come out in droves to watch a sport very few had seen -- or known about.

And that yes, a group of unknown players playing a hybrid game bordered by padded walls and anchored by hanging nets on a field half the size used in American football would be able to catch the fancy of the populace.