It took all the theatrics of a stirring Super Bowl victory for the fans, especially the young fans, of Southern California to finally fully embrace the Los Angeles Rams.

But to other fans, especially the older ones with memories as strong as an Aaron Donald pass rush, what happened this season only revived the passion that never completely left, even when the team made that 22-year detour to St. Louis.

The kids today don’t realize it, but this is a franchise with a history as rich and colorful as any in professional sports.

Those of us who were lucky enough to watch from the beginning can only sit back and smile now as those wonderful images flow gently through the windows of our minds:

Bob Waterfield, the first real mega-star in the Southern California pro sports landscape, calmly directing another one of those miracle comebacks.

Crazy Legs Hirsch bending that supple body of his to make one of his patented over-the-head touchdown catches, including 17 of them in one amazing 12-game season.

Norm Van Brocklin, probably the finest pure passer in team history, throwing another pretty spiral to sure-handed Tom Fears.

The Bull Elephant backfield, led by Tank Younger and Deacon Dan Towler, raging its way downfield.

Middle linebacker Les Richter growling and rummaging his way to another of his 20-tackle games.

Jon Arnett making a handful of breathtaking moves on his typical weaving runs through an opposing secondary.

Guard Duane Putnam pulling out to execute a textbook open-field block on a sweep.

Roman Gabriel standing strongly in the pocket and delivering a missile of a pass.

Merlin Olsen tossing bodies out of his way in the middle of the line.

Deacon Jones coming off the ball like a blur, utilizing his famous head slap and raging in for yet another sack.

Jack Youngblood playing his usual relentless game in the Super Bowl even with the searing pain of a broken leg.

Nolan Cromwell flashing his wonderful athletic ability at free safety.

Jackie Slater dominating up front with his powerful blocking and his stirring leadership.  

Eric Dickerson gliding effortlessly toward the greatest rushing season in NFL history. 

The Cowboys’ Scott Laidlaw fumbles in the end zone and Jack Youngblood (85) of the Los Angeles Rams moved in for the recovery in the NFC championship game on Jan. 7, 1979. (Associated Press photo)

Those were the Rams I grew up with, the ones whose games I began listening to on a little portable radio that never left my ear, no matter where my parents were dragging me to on any particular Sunday.

Later, the family television was mine for those 3½ hours every Sunday. Breakfast would have to wait if it was a road game. The home games weren’t televised yet, but after a painful loss in Green Bay or Chicago, it became almost impossible to do any homework.

A few years pass and I remember a rare weekend day off amid the chaos and tension of Army boot camp in Fort Polk, La., where the creaky barracks were empty except for my college roommate and me. A large manila envelope from home was opened and inside were L.A. sports sections from the previous Monday, recounting the Rams’ latest adventures. It was such a welcome respite from snarling sergeants and forced marches and machine-gun traces sailing over your head as you crawled through the mud. My college buddy and I looked up at each other and managed to smile for the first time in days.

A couple of happy years later in downtown L..A., the sports editor of the late Herald-Examiner called me into his office. “I’m thinking about making a change,” he says. “I want you to cover the Rams. What do you think about that?”

What did I think? Are you kidding? I was grinning so much I could barely answer a resounding yes.

Some five years after that, I’m on a charter airplane streaking through the darkness of a winter’s night, working as a columnist covering the San Diego Chargers, busy typing out my piece after the game. The pilot comes on to announce the day’s NFL scores.

“And in Los Angeles, the Vikings defeated the Rams, 45-41.” I’m on another newspaper in another town and the score shouldn’t mean anything anymore. But strangely, it still bothers me. “Forty-one points,” you say to no one in particular. “There’s no way they should lose when they score 41 points.” And then you sit back in your seat and smile a silly, nostalgic smile.

Now it’s another five years later, and I’m back at Rams training camp at Cal State Fullerton, working for the Orange County Register, reunited with the football team to which I’ve always seemed inexorably linked.

“Seem strange being back after all those years away?” somebody asks you. “Nah,” you answer, “Not at all. It seems familiar. It seems very familiar.”

When the team that meant so much to me through the years left, when Georgia Frontiere and John Shaw coldly arranged that lucrative deal with St. Louis, it made me feel the way so many old-time Rams fans felt. Sorry, but this was not just another sports franchise passing through. This move was something emotional to a lot of us. Something personal.

And when, six years ago, the Rams suddenly returned, well, you can imagine. It was so nice to see them back in L.A. Back where they belong.

It’s been fun to feel like a fan again, to watch a new organization, minus the fumbling direction of Frontiere and Shaw, hire a bright, energetic coach and fill a new roster with a cool blend of gifted young players and established Pro Bowl veterans.

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And to have it all culminate with what happened last Sunday, to watch Donald and Cooper Kupp and Matt Stafford lead the way to a dramatic victory in the Super Bowl, well, it felt as if somebody was writing a perfect climax to a long, scintillating journey for so many.

So yes, winning the Super Bowl was wonderful for all those young fans out there. But don’t be fooled. It meant something more to those of us who were there from the beginning.

It meant a lot more.

Steve Bisheff is a former Orange County Register columnist who would be happy to hear from all Rams fans, old or new, at [email protected].