Simpson Settles In

When O.J. Simpson first suited up with the Buffalo Bills in 1969, Coach John Rauch took one look at the rookie running back and pronounced himself sorely disappointed. "Simpson," Rauch announced with mock astonishment, "doesn't walk on water."

Orenthal James Simpson has grudgingly grown accustomed to such razzing --and to other problems as well. The most celebrated college player since Red Grange, the two-time All-America from the University of Southern California is perhaps the foremost example of the superstar readjustment syndrome. Only now, at age 26, is Simpson fully realizing the promise of the college career that won him the Heisman Trophy.

To start with, Simpson was a victim of the N.F.L. rule that the worst pro team gets the first pick of the college players. Thus he was unable to play in his native California, as he had hoped.

Instead he was shuffled off to the frosty reaches of Buffalo where, as the old vaudeville gag put it, the seasons consist of the Fourth of July and winter.

Simpson, who had seen snow only twice before, agreed to shiver through four seasons for $350,000--the highest salary any rookie had received since the N.F.L. and A.F.L. merged in 1966.

Veteran Buffalo players, feeling underpaid and a little jealous of Simpson's knack for getting publicity, took special joy in such hazing rites as shaving O.J.'s head, making him stand on a table while singing the U.S.C. fight song, and popping him extra hard in practice to let him know that he was playing with the big boys. Trouble was, the Bills were far less accomplished at jolting opponents. Simpson, fresh from two starring appearances in the Rose Bowl, had to painfully adapt to playing with a loser.

Buffalo had a knack for falling behind in a game so quickly, in fact, that their quarterback usually had to forgo giving Simpson the ball in favor of a desperation pass game. When O.J. did carry the football, blocking was so negligible that he was often gang-tackled before he hit the line of scrimmage. Averaging a so-so 642 yds. in his first three seasons, Simpson seemed destined to become one of the many college stars who fail to make it big in the pros.

Then Coach Lou Saban took over the Bills last season and began building a new high-powered attack around Simpson. Toting the ball an average of 21 times a game, O.J. rushed for 1,251 yds. in 1972 to become the N.F.L.'s leading ground gainer. This year he is doing even better. Against the New England Patriots, Simpson led the Bills to a 31-13 win with touchdown runs of 22 and 80 yds. He ended the afternoon with a remarkable 250 yds. gained--a new N.F.L. record for a single game.

Blasting Holes. Last week, after reviewing Buffalo game films, San Diego Charger Defensive End Lionel Aldridge pronounced O.J. "frightening." That he was: though the erratic Bills lost 34-7, O.J. battered through the Chargers' tough defense for 103 yds.--a pace that, if continued, will allow Simpson to break Jim Brown's season record of 1,863 yds.

Says Buffalo Guard Reggie McKenzie, one of the behemoths assigned to blast open holes for Simpson: "We think we can get O.J. 2,000 yds."

Simpson has the equipment to do it.

Combining the tackle-breaking power of a Jim Brown with the breakaway speed of a Gayle Sayers, the 6 ft. 2 in., 208 Ib.

running back claims that "I'm not doing anything differently than I did at U.S.C.

I just have a better opportunity to run."

Says Saban: "O.J. has great speed, darting quickness. He is not a slashing runner; he has an elusiveness that is all his own. He is simply O.J. and lives in his own world when he has the ball."

Of late Simpson has even come to accept the chilly world of Buffalo. Though he still flees to his $130,000 ranch home in Bel Air, Calif., at every opportunity, he has moved his wife Marguerite and their two children into a Buffalo apartment for the season. "I've even bought furniture for the first time," he says.

"The last four years I just rented it."

He has also signed another multi-year contract with the Bills, ending the speculation that he still wanted to be traded to a California team. "At home in Bel Air," he explains, "I looked around at the material things that I have and I thought about what we've gone through in Buffalo and I didn't want to be traded." Confident that the Bills are destined for the Super Bowl in a season or three, he says: "We cried together. Now I want to drink champagne together."

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