A look back at the 1979 Superteams competition

Take yourself back to March of 1978. Specifically, Saturday, March 11. It’s a cold, windy day. The Super Bowl is history. The NBA season is winding down, but without cable television, there is only one game on TV each week—and that is today at 1:00. And it’s a good one. The Boston Celtics, still a year away from snagging Larry Bird, defeat the Los Angeles Lakers 108–106 at the old Boston Garden.

Later tonight, you might have a date. You’ll take your date to see the top movie in the country, Close Encounters of the Third Kind. If you’ve already seen that one, you’ll opt for a new futuristic space movie called Star Wars.

If you don’t have a date, you’ll stay home and watch The Love Boat and Kojak.

But the real treat for sports fans comes on at 3:00 on ABC. It’s called the Superteams competition. It’s a spinoff of the highly popular Superstars series, which pitted top athletes from various sports against each other in a decathlon-type format of oddball events.

There’s a lot of nostalgia for the 1970s, and I understand it. It was a simpler time—a time of World Book encyclopedias, wall telephones, and cars that started breaking down after 50,000 miles. I even had a quadraphonic stereo in my room, from which I would blast Edgar Winter’s “Frankenstein” at all hours. Do you remember taking pictures of what you were eating for supper, then taking the film to the drugstore to be developed, making 100 copies, and handing them out to friends—and even total strangers? No, I don’t either. Okay, I made that last one up to highlight the vanity of Facebook meal photos. I get it—you’re eating healthy. Good for you.

The Superteams show was an annual event that pitted the Super Bowl–winning team (the Dallas Cowboys) against the World Series winner, the New York Yankees. Except bossman George Steinbrenner would not allow his players to participate, so the next man up was the American League runner-up, the Kansas City Royals.

The format looked like this:

Each team had ten participants. The Royals were represented by Freddie Patek, George Brett, Dennis Leonard, John Mayberry, Hal McRae, Amos Otis, Tom Poquette, Darrell Porter, Paul Splittorff, and Frank White.

Some of the Cowboys who participated were Harvey Martin, Cliff Harris, Charlie Waters, Roger Staubach, Robert Newhouse, Danny White, Drew Pearson, D.D. Lewis, Ralph Neely, Billy Joe DuPree, and Randy White.

It’s kind of amazing in retrospect. The Royals sent their entire starting infield, plus two outfielders and their star designated hitter, to participate in a nonsensical made-for-TV event—and people ate it up.

There were six events, in this order:

Running relay
Tandem bike relay
Obstacle course
Swimming relay
Volleyball
War canoe race

If the event was tied, a winner-take-all tug-of-war would decide it.

As you can see, it’s not the Olympics. But it was great, campy fun, and ABC took it very seriously. Basketball great Bob Cousy was the “commissioner” of the event. Keith Jackson and O.J. Simpson conducted player interviews. Bill Russell provided expert commentary.

The players spent a couple of weeks in Hawaii with their wives, children, and/or significant others. It sure beat Kansas City in February.

The first Superstars show aired in 1973, and I remember the swimming event like it was yesterday. It featured skier Jean-Claude Killy, race car driver Peter Revson, Olympic pole vaulter Bob Seagren, and former heavyweight champion Joe Frazier. “Smokin’ Joe” struggled in the pool and had to be rescued by lifeguards. When interviewed afterward, Frazier sheepishly admitted he didn’t know how to swim and said, “How was I to know I couldn’t unless I tried?” Joe Frazier is no quitter. “That Mark Spitz is a tough mutha******!” I don’t recall if ABC managed to bleep that out. Revson looked solid in winning the 100-meter event, but it was the Olympian Seagren who won the championship.

Video of some of the 1978 team events can be found online, including the running relay. The relay covered three-quarters of a mile. Freddie Patek, all 5’4″ of him, led off with a 110-yard sprint against Cowboys defensive end Harvey Martin, who stood 6’5″. Patek covered the distance in about 12 seconds, winning his leg—but not by much. For a big man, Martin could move.

Frank White ran the second leg, another 110 yards, against Danny White, who edged ahead at the end. The next three legs were all 220-yard sprints. George Brett was next for the Royals against Charlie Waters, and by the end of this leg, the Cowboys had opened a lead. Brett handed off to Tom Poquette, who was promptly outpaced by Billy Joe DuPree, giving Dallas a commanding advantage. It’s not that Poquette was poor—DuPree was simply a terrific athlete.

Amos Otis ran the final 220 against Drew Pearson. By the time Otis handed off to anchor Hal McRae, the Royals were about seven seconds behind. Seven seconds in track is a lot. McRae had to finish with a quarter-mile sprint against Cliff Harris. Harris ran hard for the first 200 yards before easing into a jog, finishing in about 64 seconds. McRae, ever the competitor, closed to within about ten yards on the final turn before running out of gas. He finished just under 60 seconds. The 440 is a man’s race, but McRae ran out of track. The Cowboys won in 2:41.24 to the Royals’ 2:45.34.

Watching the old TV coverage, the athletes look slow, but their times were respectable. That’s the distortion you get when you’re used to watching world-class athletes like Sydney McLaughlin-Levrone or Quincy Hall run the 400 meters. I’ve always thought the Olympics should include one average person in each race so we can truly appreciate how fast elite athletes are.

The next two events – the tandem bike relay and the obstacle course – were both won by the Cowboys.

The obstacle course was wonderful. Robert Newhouse and Darrell Porter led off and arguably had the best race of the day. It took a course-record time from Newhouse to nip Porter. Porter was a fabulous athlete who had a scholarship to play quarterback at the University of Oklahoma, back when Sooner football was big medicine.

Freddie Patek gave Charlie Waters a run, and Dennis Leonard had Randy White beat until he missed a couple of tires in the running section. In those days, football players trained by high-stepping through tires. Not so much for baseball players. I’m not sure why. I’ve never seen a tire on a football field. Still, the Cowboys’ speed was impressive.

Amos Otis and Drew Pearson went neck and neck until Pearson pulled away late. Frank White delivered the Royals’ only win in the event by beating Cliff Harris.

In the biking event, Brett paired with Porter, Leonard rode with White, Mayberry teamed with Splittorff, and McRae and Patek anchored. Dallas won by two seconds.

After three events, Dallas led 3–0.

The Royals, looking sharp in their black Speedos, began their comeback by winning the swimming relay. Mayberry, Splittorff, Leonard, Brett, and Patek posted a 1:51 to beat the Cowboys’ 1:55. The Royals clearly had spent some time in the pool. And while you wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a Speedo today, unless you’re European. In the ’70s, they were standard.

The Royals then easily won the volleyball match, 15–8.

It came down to the war canoe race, and the Royals showed their mettle, winning by three seconds to tie the competition. (For the uninitiated, a war canoe seats six and has an outrigger.)

With the teams tied at three wins apiece, a tug-of-war was arranged to decide the winner. No time limit was set—an oversight that would prove costly. The organizers likely assumed the football players would overpower the baseball team. They underestimated the baseball players’ grit.

Both teams dug into the Hawaiian sand. Someone shouted “go,” and they were off. Neither side budged. After about ten minutes, ABC cut to commercial. When they returned, nothing had changed. What viewers saw was a condensed version of an event that had taken place earlier. Only the beginning and end were aired.

There are two YouTube videos of the tug-of-war, and they’re incredible. By Part II, both teams were exhausted and had dug trenches nearly two feet deep in the sand. The Cowboys fielded seven participants totaling 1,500 pounds; the Royals countered with eight at 1,482 pounds. O.J. Simpson conducted interviews as they pulled. Twenty minutes passed. Then thirty. Then an hour, with no movement.

At that point, it wasn’t about prize money. It was about pride, the competitive fire that made these men professionals in the first place.

So what now?

Players on both sides strained with exhaustion but refused to quit.

Cousy and his “poohbahs” held an impromptu meeting and decided the event would end after 75 minutes, win, lose, or draw.

In the end, neither team gave an inch. The tug-of-war was declared a tie, and the prize money was split. Cowboys running back Robert Newhouse lay in the sand, completely spent. Who knows how long it might have lasted otherwise?

Each participant walked away with $12,500. Not bad for a day’s work in 1978.

Thanks to the Yankees’ boycott, the Royals also competed in 1979, winning four of six events to beat the Cowboys decisively.

In 1981, the Royals and Phillies met in the Superteams baseball qualifier following the 1980 World Series. The Phillies won five of seven events. Training must have improved. The Royals’ running relay team (John Wathan, Amos Otis, U.L. Washington, George Brett, Willie Wilson, and Hal McRae) dropped their time to 2:36.11.

The Superstars competition still exists in some form, primarily in Britain, but Superteams has faded into obscurity. Big contracts and injury clauses have made events like this impractical.

All that remains are grainy videos from a simpler time, when competition, a trip to Hawaii, and a little pocket money were enough.