A AT THE other end of the telephone, in Knoxville, Tenn., Mike Stratton closed his eyes and began retrieving fond, yellowed snapshots from his memory. Yes, there it is. Old War Memorial Stadium. He can see himself walking through the Loblaws parking lots, entering the Rockpile from a certain angle. And he can picture an afternoon -- he thinks it was 1962, against the Titans -- where the rim of the field was littered with beer cans. Everywhere beer cans.
"I have a picture of looking in the stands," he said, "and everyone being wrapped up four bundles deep. I see everyone's breath in the crowd, and snow piled up all around the field. And no artificial turf.
"Yes, I can see a lot of things."
And, of course, it was easy to remember the day after Christmas in 1964, the afternoon Stratton drove his shoulder into the ribs of a San Diego running back named Keith Lincoln and gave Buffalo one of its most vivid and lasting sports memories.
To a city in love with its team, it became the hit heard 'round the world, the most famous defensive play in Bills history, an essential piece of local football legend. A fan must know about the hit and pass it on to future generations. The hit on Keith Lincoln is basic history, like the hit on Abraham Lincoln.
"Keith Lincoln was a very slashing type of runner," Stratton said. "They ran him on several plays between the tackles early that day and he gained some good yardage. I remember thinking whether we had a way to stop him."
Lincoln, in fact, gained 47 yards on his first three carries. The Chargers moved to a 7-0 lead barely three minutes into the game, with Lincoln -- who also did the place-kicking -- booting the extra point.
Stratton remembers the Chargers sending their running backs into a lot of short pass patterns in connection with the wideouts. If the linebacker came up on the play, Tobin Rote would throw over him to the wideout. If he dropped back, Rote would throw a swing pass to the running back, usually Lincoln.
"I remember being very concerned about which one to cover," Stratton said. "I didn't want to be caught in the middle . . . so I stayed in a state of constant turmoil."
On San Diego's second possession, Stratton dropped off to cover a wide receiver on a curl pattern when he suddenly realized Rote was going to swing the ball to Lincoln.
"A light goes off in my head," he said. "I said, 'If you're back here, they're going to dump it to him.' I started racing back toward the line as fast as I could go, and fortunately, I arrived at the same time as the ball did."
It wasn't so fortunate for Lincoln, who crumpled in a heap and left the game for good with cracked ribs. "We didn't know how long he'd be out," Stratton said, "but when he did leave, we thought, 'Maybe they won't run that play as successfully anymore.' "
The hit jarred the crowd to attention and seemed to remove whatever anxiety the Bills were feeling about the game. With Lincoln out of action, the Chargers were unable to mount any offense against a terrific Bills defense the rest of the day, and Buffalo won its first AFL championship, 20-7.
Stratton, who was 23 at the time, went on to play 12 years -- 11 as a star Bills linebacker and one, ironically, with the Chargers. Today, he owns his own insurance and benefit consulting business in his native Tennessee.
More than a quarter-century later, people still ask Stratton about his famous tackle and about those great Bills teams of the 1960s. It's become more common in recent times, due to the Bills' emergence as an NFL power and the public's appetite for nostalgia.
"A lot of people remember," he said. "I don't ever get tired of hearing about it. At times, you would certainly like to be remembered for more than one thing. But if they remember you for only one thing, at least you're happy to be remembered."
