The NFL of the 1980s is remembered for the destruction that occurred in its Roman-numeral games - the Super Bowl. Kennedy said defeat is an orphan. For the '80s AFC, it was a shamed brotherhood. The National Conference punished the decade. Of the ten Super Bowls played, it won eight - by an average romp of 37-15. In a league designed for parity, its title game had become a slaughterhouse, a televised execution that repeated every year, far into the 1990s. By the time the Packers finished off New England in Super XXXI, the NFC had strung together thirteen straight victories. Someone asked Bears linebacker Mike Singletary to explain the difference between the two conferences. He answered like some ancient warlord, addressing his legion before battle. Axes and flails and Rome versus Carthage. "The NFC is big," he said. "The NFC is bold. The NFC is blood, broken bones, intimidation. The NFC is unconquerable. If you can make it there, you can make it anywhere." Majesty and Mayhem, however, isn't a review of those old AFC autopsy files. . . or a conventional history book, for that matter. Rather, it's a collection of author Tom Danyluk's powerful memories and impressions of that decade that have remained with him over the years. Memories of the 1980s New York Jets, a team drenched in talent and speed, plus pass-rushing super powers. "After years of solid drafts, we were finally built for the Super Bowl," said personnel director Mike Hickey. Yet other than a pair of playoff wins in 1982, nothing ever came of it. Why? The San Diego Chargers are here, too -- "Air Coryell," the first team to exploit the league's 1978 passing-rule changes. Their stat sheets whirred like a national debt clock. . . Dan Fouts and Kellen Winslow and another 300-yard bombing run. "You almost want to go out and get their autographs," said Steelers quarterback Terry Bradshaw. The '70s, gave us the "No-Name" Dolphins defense; in 1981, a no-name offense emerged in San Francisco, a pistol-range passing attack staffed with players from central casting. "They were executing with people I never heard of," said Cowboys safety Charlie Waters after the 49ers beat them for the '81 NFC championship. The fall and rise of quarterback Dan Marino. His coach at Pitt, Jackie Sherrill, said if he'd stayed for Marino's senior year, he would've been the top pick of the entire 1983 draft. But Sherril left, and Marino crashed to 27th. That's where Don Shula found him and the Miami missile show began. Danyluk