Wall Street Richard

And all the while he was living in an apartment on the ocean on Long Island, lovely in summer but desolate in winter, and sleeping on a mattress on the floor. He was miserable and wanted nothing more than to get out of New York and go home to Alabama.

His unhappiness was understandable. Todd had had a gentle Southern upbringing. He was born in Birmingham and lived in Bristol, Va., then Tuscaloosa, Arkadelphia, Ark. and Mobile. His mother, Mary Ann, now teaches nursing at the Providence School of Nursing in Mobile, and his father, Carl, is a theology professor at the University of South Alabama. Such a background is poor preparation for bigmouth New York fans.

It was after that 4-12 1980 season that Todd had the dubious opportunity of discussing a new contract with the Jets. Talk about adversity. He humbly signed a three-year deal for $250,000 in 1981, $300,000 in 1982 and $350,000 for this season—with no incentives. In the world of top quarterbacks, this is embarrassingly low pay; Houston's Archie Manning will make more than $600,000 this season. Rookie O'Brien signed last week for a reported $1.6 million for four years. It's contract time again for Todd after this year.

Todd's troubles in 1980 got him to thinking seriously, and back home in Alabama during the off-season he told himself, "I'm going to play in New York, and I'm going to enjoy it in New York." He started making changes. No more Little Joe. He dumped Walsh and hired Wichard, who told him, "Somehow, you have become a villain. That's not right, and we have to change that image."

So when Todd returned to New York for the 1981 season, his attitude was all polished up. Just in time, too, because about all the excuses that could be made for Todd had been made—he was used wrong as a rookie, he was too young to expect much of, he was hurt, he was embroiled in a quarterback controversy, he had no offensive coordinator in 1980. At last he came through, completing 56% of his 1981 passes and throwing only 13 interceptions. The Jets got to the playoffs for the first time since 1969. Todd was voted the team MVP. The banners in Shea went up: TODD is GOD.

Unfortunately, in his first playoff game he was a loser. New York fell behind the Buffalo Bills by 24 points early, but Todd led a stirring comeback, bringing the Jets to within four at 31-27 and then, as the clock wound down, marching them 69 yards to the Buffalo 11. From there, on the game's last play, his pass for Derrick Gaffney was picked off by the Bills' Bill Simpson. That interception ended New York's '81 season. Its '82 campaign ended, of course, with Todd's five interceptions in Miami.

Still, if Todd has yet to prove that he can produce a second Jet Super Bowl win, he has shown in the last two years that he has matured as a quarterback. He has matured off the field as well. "I don't worry about my image anymore," he says. "I found out when I was trying to please everybody that I was making myself unhappy. And I learned I can't be concerned with people who come to games to scream and boo and cheer and drink." These days he comes across as a bright, open, concerned, helpful fellow—what's wrong with that for an identity?—whose idea of a perfect evening is watching three hours of football films, having a rack-of-lamb dinner at home with Lulu, watching some TV and going to sleep. Home is a $275,000 condo in Jericho on Long Island. When Lulu and Richard decide to kick up their heels, they play gin rummy. Richard usually wins. Who'd want a quarterback who couldn't scheme well enough to beat his wife at gin rummy? On their bar is a bottle of 1977 Louis Roederer Cristal champagne (price: $70). It was given to the Todds by Lulu's parents—to be drunk only in celebration of a Super Bowl victory. "New York is the best place to play when you win," says Todd, "and the worst place when you lose." He starts humming New York, New York.

Todd is becoming more of a fixture around the city. He'll be on local television once a week for 20 weeks starting later this month doing a sports segment designed, according to his agent, to "make use of Richard's glibness." And Todd stayed in New York during the past off-season for the first time, working for Bear, Stearns & Co., a Wall Street brokerage house. Really working. Says Todd: "There are very few O.J. Simpsons and Joe Namaths who can live off their names for 25 or 30 years. I've seen too many guys wandering around lost when football ends. What I might do when I retire is fly my airplane, sell stocks and go scuba diving in the Bahamas. That sounds like a pretty good life."

The Quad Cities Gridiron Club is meeting in Florence, Ala., and the guest speaker is Richard Todd. He is charming, loaded with charisma, out-Namathing Joe on his best days. First Todd addresses those Five Interceptions against Miami, explaining, "My mother always said she liked to see me throw 'cause somebody always catches it." Then he speaks to yet another sensitive point, the Jet draft of O'Brien: "I don't really know how the Jets felt about all those interceptions. Of course, they did draft a quarterback. He's a real nice guy. Smart, strong, good arm, good lookin'—all those things you hate to see. But I'd say he needs a little training, like five, six or seven years. Then he'll be ready."

And so forth. Incredible. Is this the same guy who stuffed the gentleman of the press into a locker? Asked about this later, Todd is typically candid. "I don't think the press likes me," he says. "And I have to face it; I am moody and irritable during the season. But if we had started winning right away when I got to New York, I could have mooned the city and nothing bad would have been written."