Conference hbahba::cam_sports

NBC Presents An Annual Flop

from The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, 2-1-1993

By

Gene Collier


	Michael Jackson, the only over-hyped performer who didn't either fumble
or recover one yesterday, suggested at halftime that we remake the planet into
a haven of joy.
	Uh, Michael, should we start in Buffalo, or will that come later?
	For what has become the annual midwinter festival of torture for the
Bills and Buffaloniansm NBS's exhaustive coverage smothered almost every
possibility even before Super Bowl XXVII took on the classic chamber-of-horrors
backdrop of so many of its precursors.
	The telecast actually locked in on something relevant some 90 minutes
before game time, when Bob Costas went to O.J. Simpson for a report on the
condition of the Rose Bowl playing surface.
	"I can think of only one word," quote The Juice, "Perfect."
	And with that, the Juice immediately gave us more than a minute of what
made the field, well, imperfect.
	He showed us the grass, where he'd made a divot with his Gucci, and
predicted that there could be some problems should any of the athletes try to
change directions, or something crazy like that.  The Juice said he'd spoken
with members of both teams and they were aware that it could be slippery out
there.
	"Other than that," The Juice said, "It's perfect."  Right.  Nice day if
it don't rain.
	But wouldn't you know, the Juice was prophetic.  The Bills began to
come apart when a Jim Kelly pass was intercepted by James Washington, mostly
because intended receiver Pete Metzelaars slipped and fell as he cut.
	And yet even before Simpson warned us about that, the whole flavor of
the event was revealed to us in interviews with young Cowboys Troy Aikman,
Emmitt Smith and Michael Irvin.  And who better to bring these complex
personalities burbling to the surface than that imcomparable journalist, that
interviewer's interviewer, Magic Johnson?
	Why was Magic Johnson sitting with Aikman, Smith and Irvin two hours
before kickoff?  Why ask Why?
	In this segment, all three Cowboys said they wouldn't mind being last
minute heroes, but would much prefer to be strutting in horseplay along the
sideline, mugging with championship baseball caps for the cameras, with a
victory well in hand for the final 40 minutes of the telecast.
	Hey, isn't that the way it went?  Is that why they call him Magic?
	If NBC didn't already have this thing covered, the network was ready
with some clips of previous Super Bowls to be played as they somehow became
relevant.  This came up golden for the network as well.  After Buffalo blocked
a punt that led to the game's first touchdown, we saw the Raiders blocking a
Redskins punt in the last Super Bowl that the AFC actually won.  Later, we saw
San Francisco's courageous goal-line stand against Cincinnati just after
Dallas' second-quarter stand turned the game inalterably its way.
	From that point on, the entire video of San Francisco or Washington
taking apart Denver or Chicago dismembering New England could have easily been
plugged in for what remained of this show, football wise.
	Of course, there is no substitute for a Michael Jackson halftime show,
at least none that the frontiers of science have developed.
	At 8:04, by my watch, Jackson was literally shot onto the stage(don't
ask me how, I'm not sure how the lid on the hamper works), dressed as usual
like Manuel Noriega on acid.
	Michael stood in frozen and defiant splendor there until 8:06, when a
major development occurred.  He jerked his head sharply to the left.
	Then there was some music, some fireworks, some blasts of steam, and
the pseudo-ceremonial crotch grabbing during his rendition of "Billy Jean." 
Funny how Roseanne Arnold didn't get away with it.
	Anyway, while you were wondering whether it's really Michael's longterm
ambition to eventually look like Edgar Winter, Jackson revealed his game plan,
and one a lot more foolproof than Buffalo's, obviously.
	Swaying, singing, cute-as-heck kids, pleading for love and world
harmony.  You know, you just don't lose with that stuff.
	Once we got back to the action, it was long apparent that as theater,
the telecast was certainly passable.  The new commercials, specifically from
Reebok and Crystal Pepsi, seemed almost interesting.  I'll check back when
you've seen 'em for the 500th time, though.
	Down on the field, NBC gave us great shots of the pain and disgust on
the faces of the Buffalo players, and Dick Enberg and Bob Trumpy tried their
darnedest to give us every possible anecdote, whether it was related to
anything or not.  By this point, nobody minded.
	It wasn't even worth pointing out that Enberg wound up calling
Buffalo's performance ignomonious, whatever that means.

						Gene Collier



JaKe

Three Strikes Means Bills Out of Their League

from The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, 2-1-1993

By

Bruce Keidan

Pasadena, Calif.

	Memo to the Buffalo Bills:  here are some things you might tryif, by
a stoke of incredibly bad fortune, you draw the short straw again next winter
and are sentenced to play in the Super Bowl for a fourthe straight time:

	--Stage a wildcat strike.

	--Hire a lawyer and sue the National Football League for cruel and
unusual punishment.

	--Hijack your chartered jet, fly it to Cuba, and ask Fidel Castro for
political asylum.
	
	--Challenge the team that wins the NFC championship to settle things
with a spelling bee.

	--Buy some white flags to wave during the pregame warmups.  And some
fake beards  and mustaches to wear when you leave the locker room after the
game.

	--If none of that works, you may have to resort to something truly
radical.  Like covering the other team's pass receivers in obvious passing
situations.  And hanging onto the football for more than a few seconds at a
time.
	Let's face it: SOMEONE has to take the Bills by the horns.  Left to
their own devices in these annual intergalactic-championships, they are going
to drag the AFC ever deeper into disrepute.
	Not that matters can get much worse.  If a Dallas defensive lineman
named Leon Lett hadn't stopped to do a bit of "styling" as he neared the end
zone late in the fourth quarter yesterday, the Bills would have succumbed in
Super Bowl XXVII by the lopsided margin of 42 points.  As it was, they excaped
with a 52-17 defeat.
	So much for Marv Levy's claim that the Bills, not the Cowboys, are
America's Team.  The Bills may wear red, white and blue, but the label inside
the jerseys doesn't say "Made in the USA."  It says "Can't Win the Big One." 
And if there is one thing America loathes, it is a runner up.
	
	PREDICTION:  By sundown tonight, the good people of Buffalo are going
to yearn for the good old days, when all their city was known for was blizzards
and spicy chicken wings.
	REMINDER:  A resident of the largest city in western New York is a
Buffalonian.  Not a Buffaloser.
	RANDON THOUGHT NO. 1:  The Houston Oilers are to blame.  If they hadn't
frittered away a 32-point lead in the opening round of the playoffs, the Bills
would have been safe at home watching yesterday's game on TV.
	RANDOM THOUGHT NO. 2:  It is only a matter of time until Buffalo's
quarterback, Jim Kelly, is known by the same nickname as Hall of Fame baseball
player Reggie Jackson--Mr. October.  Unfortunately, Super BOwls are played in
January.
	True, it does not seem to matter much which AFC team shows up for these
annual pass, punt and kick contests.  The NFC now has won nine in a row, and 11
of the past 12.  Fans in NFC cities mutter that the AFC has become to the Super
Bowl what the Ivy League is to the National Collegiate Athletic Association's
postseason tournament--not really worthy of an automatic qualifying berth. 
Maybe the AFC champion ought to be seeded into the quarterfinals of the NFC
tournament.
	Uesterday's massacre surely will reinforce the widespread notion that
the AFC is the NFC's ugly step-sibling and the black-sheep of the NFL.  The NFC
has more big markets, more good teams, better TV ratings and a hammerlock on
the Lambert Trophy, which is presented annually to the winning Super Bowl team. 
None of that has escaped the attention of NBC, which is trying to decide how
badly it wants to continue being the AFC's network after the present TV
contract expires at the end of this year.
	I will tell you how smart I am:  I thought maybe the Cowboys were in
trouble when I found out that Jimmy Johnson had huddled with Terry Donahue at
practice one day last week and gotten a scouting report on the sun.  Donahue
coaches the UCLA football team, so he is intimately familiar with the Rose Bowl
and the right man to ask if, say, you want to know at what time of the
afternoon or early evening a receiver running a westbound pattern is most
likely to have trouble when he turns back to the east in search of a pass.  But
scouting the sun at Los Angeles Coliseum didn't help George Allen when his
Washington Redskins played Miami in Super Bowl VII.  Furthermore, the sun that
shines over Pasadena is the same sun that shines on Dallas, so far as I know.
	I needn't have worried.  Johnson could have spent the week scouting the
halftime show.  Or looking for rare butterflies.  His team was that much
faster, that much better than the Bills.
	Lord knows, Johnson's players didn't fritter away their week in La-La
Land obsessing over the details.  Johnson did not impose a curfew on them until
midweek, and some Cowboys would not have been able to settle their bar bills if
Dallas had lost yesterday.
	The Bills know their role in this annual Follies Bizarre.  They do not
waste a lot of time during Super Bowl week writing rough drafts of victory
speeches.
	This was Strike Three on the Bills.  A natural hat trick.  Maybe the
NFL ought to borrow boxing's three-knockdown rule.  You shudder to think by
what margin the Bills might lose given a fourth consecutive chance to embarrass
themselves.  And what sort of line will the bookies make?  Buffalo plus 50,
perhaps?
	My money is on the Bills is the rules ever change so that the winner is
the team that gives up the most fumbles and interceptions.
	But not until then.

						Bruce Keidan



JaKe

GAMBLING CAN PUT YOUR LIFE AT STAKE(S)

from The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Feb 3, 1993

By

Gene Collier

	Now that we've pretty much designated and documented Super Bowl Sunday
as the annual date of the national domestic violence exposition, let's not
overlook the day's other hugely destructive and offensive sideshow, the
national two-minute drill for compulsive gamblers.
	In fact, there is what passes for moderately good news on the gambling
deal.
	Not an inordinate number of gamblers went over the edge on Sunday, at
least not according to the people who work the various gambling hot lines
around this great country.
	In New Jersey, where the action is always heavy, only about 250 calls
came in to 1-800-GAMBLER.  That's a lot busier than a normal day, but normal
for the post-Super Bowl crash.  In Philadelphia, the heavily publicized
1-800-LASTBET line got 60 calls where it usually gets 8, but only half were
directly related to the Super Bowl.  Locally, only one person called Gamblers
Anonymous after dropping $300.
	So everything's cool.  Status Quo.  Victimless crime anyway, isn't it?
	"I lost my business; I got divorced; my kids left home before they
probably would have if they'd lived in a normal household," Norm is telling me
on the phone(GA members can't give their last names).
	"I'll tell you what a great guy I was.  The only two days of the year
you can't bet a game are the day before the [Baseball]All-Star game and the 
day after it."
	"So I'd bet the All-Star game on Saturday, then take the family on
vacation until Wednesday, then come back and start the whole thing over again."
	"In the Steelers-Cowboys Super Bowl, the one that finished 35-31, I hit
that game in the middle.  I took Dallas plus 5, and I took the Steelers minus
3-1/2.  So when the final score came up four, I won considerable money, between
$35,000 and $40,000."
	"By February, with basketball, I was in debt again."
	Good thing he wasn't a victim.
	Art Schlicter's last stand, the Cincinnati Rockers of Arena Football,
found out just how hideous this hobby can get for a guy.  At the end, the
Rockers were giving Schlicter's wife $300 of his paycheck and depositing the
rest in a fund to finance his gambling and other debts.  Schlicter's addiction
cost him an NFL career, among other things.
	Good thing he's not a victim.
	Desptie these common war stories, the public largely approves of
gambling.  According to a survey conducted for Harrah's and cited in the
Christian Science Monitor, 55 percent of American adults approve of
gambling--for anyone.  That presumably includes minors.  Ninety-Six percent of
the nation's compulsive gamblers started gambling before the age of 14.
	"I remember walking to school, playing blackjack on the sidewalk," said
Norm.  "that's grade school."
	With such a receptive culture, there's no suprise in the fact that
about $25 billion is bet illegally on sporting events in the United States
every year.  The NFL would have a huge reduction in its loyal following if the
portion of it that gambles illegally suddenly had a change of philosophy. 
There just aren't that many people out there who are fascinated by the
intricacies of punt coverage.
	Highly respectable people, respectable institutions, have no problem
either encouraging this or giving it tacit approval.
	You'll find elsewhere in these pages(sports section) the lastest line
on today's games, although we're still not running the cocaine prices or a
breakdown on what downtown street whores are charging.  You see the
distinction, don't you?  Me neither.
	"these are normal people who can't look at the latest line," Norm said. 
"People have the temptation even if they pick up a newspaper, like the people
who used to play the lottery and now they can't be around the television at
7 o'clock."
	Gamblers Anonymous takes no moral stand on this matter.  You can go to
the Gamblers Anonymous meetings tonight in Washington or Wilkinsburg without
fear of being brow-beaten.
	They aren't going to tell you that most of the money taken in by agents
of illegal gambling ends up funding many other initiatives of those folks: 
extortion, prostitution, drugs, a murder here or there.
	"We don't even take a position that gambling is good or bad," Norm
said.  "We don't talk about anything other than being in recovery.  Anything
other than not gambling is considered an outside issue.  We talk about what it
was like and what we're doing to make it better."
	"In a lot of cases, it's just talking about life.  It's a kind of group
therapy.  Occasionally, there are war stories."
	"It's just talk about what to do to make amends, to yourself, and the
the people you hurt."
	Norm wants you to knkow the number.  412-284-7484.  Maybe someone else
does, too.

						Gene Collier



JaKe

XXVII QUESTIONS TO BUFFALO YOU

from The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Feb 3, 1993

By

Bruce Keidan


	The XXVII questions raised by not-so-Super Bowl XXVII.

	I)  Who was supposed to be covering Michael Irvin on passing downs, and
does he or she have a written excuse from his mother?
	II)  Does the fact that Leon Lett is over the age of 21 disqualify him
from consideration as the national poster child for Premature Celebration?  And
doesn't Buffalo's Don Beebe. who slapped the ball from Lett's grasp, deserve
some sort of prize for noble effort in a lost cause?
	III) Where was Bruce Smith between the hours of 3:18 and 6:41 pm, PST
on Sunday, and how far is it to Pasadena from there?
	IV) How did the Steelers manage to lose so convincingly to the Buffalo
Bills, Not I but II times in the past III months?
	V)  Do you get the feeling that the Bills should quit practicing
offense and defense a week before the Super Bowl and concentrate exclusively on
special teams?  Or do you think they should work on the Heimlich maneuver, as
well?
	VI) If the NFC wins again next year, does it get to keep the Lombardi
Trophy in perpetuity?
	VII) If the Cowboys and Bills played an infinite number of games
against each other, would they eventually re-create every lopsided football
game ever played?  And would the Bills eventually win a game?
	VIII)  Would Sunday's game have been any less competitive if Michael
Jackson had played tight end for the Bills and Pete Metzelaars had performed in
the halftime show??
	IX) Would such a switch have helped or hurt the halftime show??
	X) Whaen a patron in a Nevada Casino takes one of his $50 chips from
the blackjack table to the sports book and wagers it on the Bills in the Super
Bowl, at what point exactly does it become a Buffalo chip??
	XI) Who was supposed to cover Jay Novachek in passing situations??  And
did anyone take the trouble to point Novachek out to that person before the
game began??
	XII) Was Jack Buck just trying to make me feel better about referring
to Thurman Thomas as Thurman Munson when he called Buffalo's star running back
"Thermos Thomas" on CBS radio?
	XIII) Do you think it would help if the NFC agreed to send its champion
to Buffalo every January?  If NFC defensive linemen and linebackers had to
count to  five after the ball was snapped before rushing the passer?  If we let
Ralph Wilson, the Bills' owner, officiate the game?
	XIV) Who is the guy who always shows up in Jim Kelly's uniform on Super
Bowl Sunday??  And what does he do the rest of the year??
	Xv) Knowing the Cowboys were likely to blitz, why did the person
impersonating Kelly Sunday take such a deep drop before he was harried into the
fumble that fluttered into the waiting arms of Jimmie Jones for a Dallas TD?
	XVI) Who does Paul Zimmerman of Sports Illustrated like in the Final
Four, the Kentucky Derby and the British Open?  (Because I want to make very
sure I bet the other way).
	XVII) Wouldn't it be funny if Zimmerman finally came to his senses and
picked the NFC team to defeat Buffalo in Super Bowl XXVIII--and the Bills
finally won?
	XIX) Where was the person who was supposed to be shadowing Beebe on
that play?
	XX) What else is on TV the last Sunday night in January, in case
Buffalo happens to qualify for the Super Bowl again next year?
	XXI) Isn't it amazing how much better Thomas Everett looks and plays in
a Cowboys uniform than he did in black and gold?
	XXII) Who was supposed to be guarding Alvin Harper on third down plays? 
And what made him deciee not to stay for the second half?
	XXIII) Will Jimmy Johnson forgive Emmitt Smith for mussing his hair on
national television?  Or will Smith be a blocking back for Bill Johnston next
year?
	XXIV) Is it possible that Troy Aikman could be John Elway's
illegitimate son?
	XXV) Is there a better center in football than Mark Stepnoski?  And do
we break the news to Buffalo's defensive tackles and inside linebackers if it
turns out there is?
	XXVI) Which would you rather have: a root canal, a large unpaid balance
with the meanest loan shark in town or a pair of tickets on the 50-yard line to
the next Super bowl featuring the Bills.
	XXVII) Who was the genius on the Bills coaching staff who ordered Kelly
to run an option play on fourth and goal to go inside the Cowboys 1-yard line?
And when it's erected, where in Dallas will the statue honoring that person
stand?
					Bruce Keidan


JaKe

KNIGHT'S MYSTIQUE IS INDIANA'S EDGE
	
from The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, 2-10-1993

By

Gene Collier

	Bruce Parkhill will not be the one telling you that Bobby Knight
intimidates officials.  He will not be the one pointing out that in the course
of a season that finds Indiana ranked as the nation's No. 1 team, Bobby's boys
have made more foul shots than their opponents have been permitted to even
attempt.
	And probably he will not have to.
	As the manic thousands who filled old, unstoried Rec Hall last night
are forever convinced, and as a national ESPN audience might easily have been
persuaded, there is a presence about the legendary Indiana coach that goes
beyond his magical impact on his players and theirs on their opponents.	
	Otherwise last night's careening Gothic novel of a basketball game
might never have seen its breathless first overtime, much less its second.
	Yet it did, and it will be remembered much more for its sheer girth and
for the sweaty courage of outmanned Penn State that for pedestrian conference
politics.
	But pedestrian conference politics this was.
	Certainly it was the better team that won in double overtime, 88-84,
retaining its No. 1 ranking and defending its unbeaten conference record, but
Knight's karma, as much as anything including the stone brilliance of Calbert
Cheaney made it possible.
	With Penn State leading 68-66 and inbounding with less than 20 seconds
to play, Micheal Jennings' pass found streaking teammate Greg Bartram in the
forecourt for either the layup or the foul shots that might have vacuum-packed
probably the most historic win in Penn State's basketball history, such as it
is.	
	But......WHISTLE!
	Offensive foul on Bartram for allegedly pushing to free himself.  If
such an act occurred at all, it was incidental to the common jostling that
occurs as players position themselves for an inbounds play.	
	"I was very suprised at the call," was as far as Parkhill would go late
last night.  But I'll bet the more he thought about it, the less suprised he
was.
	Thus Indiana got possession with enough time for a winning 3-point
shot, which Greg Graham launched from the extreme left corner as the clock
flashed inside of 0:01.  Graham missed.
	But......WHISTLE!!
	Foul on Bartram.  In the act.  That'll be three free throws.  Another
chance for Indiana to win.
	Graham, to his great credit, calmly tied the game after missing the
first of three in an incredible din that likely shook some of the exterior
bricks from the old northwest campus gym.
	Penn State scored on every possession of the first overtime, but
Indiana nailed three consecutive 3-pointers for the 77-77 tie that forced a
second.  Brian Evans' jumper from left of the lane put Indiana ahead for good
with five seconds left.  Damon Bailey stole Bartram's long inbounds, drew the
foul and made two shots for the final math.
	But it says here that in almost any other circumstance, read it with
any other coach sitting 50 feet down the floor from him, Parkhill gets this
game.  In basketball politics--regardless of conference considerations---home
teams get this game.  It's why coaches say it's so hard to win on the road. 
And it is, but it's easier if you're Robert Montgomery "Bob" Knight, the legend
who walks among us.	
	Parkhill knew this job was dangerous when he took it, of course.  But
then, when he took it 10 years ago, Penn State was a member in good standing of
the Atlantic 10 and not the self-anointed trigger-man of nationwide conference
alignment.  If State were still in the Atlantic 10, Parkhill would be among
that league's old guard, as a 10-year vet coming off four consecutive 20-win
seasons should be.
	When Penn State announced it was joining the Big Ten, Parkhill managed
only a tight smile.  Last night you saw why.  It will take forever--or what
will certainly seem like it--for Parkhill to have the kind of metaphysical
impact on things as do some of the other conference coaches, but most notably
Knight.
	At the end of regulation last night, a stunning victory having
virtually just flown his back pocket, Parkhill could barely bring himself to
coach.  He stood on the sideline and just pointed, and pointed, and pointed at
the officials, a kind of pathetic tomahawk chop.
	"That's you; that's you; that's you," he seemed to say.  "Thank you for
absolutely nothing."
	Parkhill's players ventured further toward his unspoken sentiment.
	"There were times that it just didn't seem like we were going to get 
the, um, necessary help to win the game,"  said sophompre center Joh  Amaechi,
who'd worked 48 minutes, scoring 19 points.  "Especially toward the end of each
overtime there were crucial plays that just didn't go our way.  That was
decisive."
	There will be times when those plays do go Penn State's way against
Indiana in the Big 11.  But John won't be here.  And Bruce probably won't
wither.  And you can be sure Bobby Knight won't.

					Gene Collier


JaKe

BASEBALL SPRINGS QUESTIONS ETERNAL

from The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, 2-15-1993

By

Gene Collier

At the end of this week, Major League Baseball will have officially survived
another ruthlessly annoying, economically foreboding, sickeningly political,
increasingly decadent off-season.
	A hearty congratulations to everyone involved.
	At the end of this week, baseball will have something to hang the
skeletal remains of its agaless charm upon: someone, somewhere actually
throwing a ball, hitting a ball, rounding a base, cramming a fist-sized wad of
carcinogenic leaf into his face and expectorating the disgusting liquid
byproduct onto someone else's shoes.
	Right, the very essence of the game---SPRING TRAINING>
	Between the end of this week and the end of October, not only will our
fervent baseball questions get answered, but the game will supply us with a
supplemental list and answer them to our satisfaction.  Got your original list
ready?  Of course not; you've got a life.  You can use this one.

	--By about mid-May, will Andy Van Slyke still be funny?
	--Will 46-year old Nolan Ryan, who won only five of his 27 starts a
year ago, have the kind of season that will polish his legend, or tarnish it??
	--Will Cincinnati Reds owner Marge Schott, condemned to the gulag
executive suite, ba allowed to have a fantasy-league team??
	--Can the Detroit Tigers please reduce their average time of game from
a brain numbing two hours, 59 minutes, or, if not, would they mind possibly
winning some of them??
	--Will the Philadelphia Phillies be experimenting with their outfield
defense more ambitiously, or will the 42 combinations they used last year be
pretty much it??
	--Will former base-stealing great Maury Wills, hired to instruct New
York Mets baserunners, become discouraged with a repeat of 1992, when, manager
Jeff Torborg recently remembered, "We didn't have any baserunners"?
	--By about mid-May, will the Pirates be looking to cover another 5,000
or 10,000 of those eyesore empty seats??
	--Will 89 players be on the disabled list by the end of the first week,
or will last year's record of 88 stand??
	--Will Shea Stadium lose all patience with Bobby Bonilla, or will June
1 be soon enough for them to witness his first home run again??
	--Will there be anything for Barry Bonds to complain about? How 'bout
in the second week?
	--With a payroll approaching the national debt, will anyone in New York
mind if Chico Walker is the Mets' Player of the Month for August again?
	--Will the Los Angeles Dodgers again edge the Seattle Mariners for the
distinction of worst team in baseball, or will Daryll Strawberry stay in the
lineup long enough for the Dodgers to run away with that title?
	--By about mid-June, will the reacquisition of Jerry Don Gleaton look
like a good idea??
	--Will Francisco Cabrera have an even bigger year for the Atlanta
Braves than he had in 1992, I mean by getting an 11th at-bat?
	--Will the San Diego Padres, having rid themselves fo 45 of their club
total of 46 saves from last year, come up with a closer or just close and
padlock the bullpen?
	--Who has April 10 in the "When Will Vince Coleman Go On the Disabled
List Pool?
	--Will big-market dominanae continue to shape the image and politics of
the game, or will the Milwaukee Brewers outdraw the New York Yankees again?
	--Will AMerican League batting champion Edgar Martinez continue to
dominate the coveted Martinez of the Week Award, or is there hope for Chito,
Carlos, Domingo, Tino, Dennis, Dave, Pedro, Ramon and Festus?
	--Is there really a Festus MArtinez, or should I not be ridiculous?
	--By mid-july, will Carlos Garcias have made us forget Jose Lind, or
remember Sammy Khalifa?
	--Will Juan Gonzalez and Jose Canseco hit more homers that the Kansas
City Royals, or will the Royals hit lots more than the 75 they hit last year?
	--Will the Chicago Cubs and the Padres endeavor to deploy more of a
motion offense, or will the Montreal Expos' Marquis Grissom steal more bases
than eaither team again?
	--Where does Carlton FIsk stand on the Social Security issue?
	--By mid-August, will Pirates general manager Ted Simmons still be on
the cutting edge fo 90s personnal management, or just be a cool guy who was
once a great hitter and eventually developed an incredible techno-ornate
vocabulary?
	--Are chances that the Florida Marlins and COlorado Rockies will meet
in the 1993 National League Championship Series greater or less that the chance
that Michael Jackson will have breast implant surgery by the All-Star break??

						Gene Collier



JaKe

IN THE BIG TEN, NOTHING'S EASY

from The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, 15-feb-1993

by

Bruce Keidan

	Bloomington, Ind.  Before 45-second clocks and possession arrows,
before ESPN, even before the two-handed set shot became tinct, Clair Bee knew
everything there was to know about coaching basketball, and the young Bobby
Knight followed him around like a puppy, glad for the chance to sit at the
master's knee.
	Knight is the icon now.  Bee is gone.  But he lives on in Knight's
memory.
	Knight thought of his old mentor as he trudged to the locker room at
intermission yesterday with his Indiana University players trailing their
guests from the University of Michigan, 46-44.
	"Clair Bee used to tell my that two down was the best position to be in
at halftime in a tough game," Knight recalled later.  "Personally, I thought
you'd be better off leading by 15."
	Knight glanced at the scoreboard, then to the ceiling of Assembly Hall
and beyond.
	"OK," he said to Clair Bee.  "We're two down.  Now DO something."
	Maybe Bee already had.  Just 7 1/2 minutes earlier, Indiana had trailed
Michigan by 11.  And from then until halftime, Knight had more substitutes than
starters on the floor.
	But you ask me, it wasn't the ghost of Clair Bee that saved the
top-ranked college basketball team in the nation from the fourth-ranked
infidels at the gates.  My money is on Calbert Cheaney and Matt Nover, each of
whom scored 20 points in Indiana's 93-92 victory.  And on Brian Evans, one of
just four substitiues on Knight's roster, who scored 17 points and played
balck-belt defense that helped the Hoosiers shut off Michigan's faucet for
seven decisive minutes late in the second half.
	Youn expect this sort of thing of Cheaney.  he is a gloriously talented
player, a senior who does everything for the Hoosiers except launder their
pants.  Brian Evans, however, is only a freshman.  And in Knight's offensive
scheme, his job on most plays is to get in someone's way.  he is better known
for the bone crunching screens he uses to rid teammates of unwanted company
than for anything else.  Until yesterday, he was scoring a whisker less than
five points a game, on average.  He was, however, the perfect horse for this
course.
	Michigan and Indiana do not PLAY basketball.  PLAY is the wrong verb to
describe it, because it is as serious as a heart attack.
	Bear in mind, this is the Big 10 Conference.  Hammer and tongs are
issued right along with the sneakers and warmup suits.  Anyone wearing his
original teeth is a sissy.  No stretcher, no foul.
	There was a touch foul or two whistled yesterday, in the early moments
of play, just to remind the combatants that the conference had indeed assigned
an officiating crew to this game.  But after that, there were no free throws
awarded except for gross violations of the Articles of War.
	That must be the way the Big Ten wants it.  Almost all of the top game
officials work in more than one league.  But waht is a hand-checking foul in
the Atlantic COast Conference is only a warning in the Big East COnference. 
And in the Big Ten, it is only a wink.
	A Michigan-Indiana game is a lot like Thai boxing, but with a ball and
fewer prohibitions.  This isn't the same game they play in the Carolinas, where
perspiration is a personal foul and players contesting a rebound say "Excuse
me" and "After you."
	If Michigan were to play an ACC team on an ACC court with ACC
officials, Chris Webber and Jalen ROse would foul out on the team bus on the
way to the game.  But in the Big Ten, Michigan is practically effete.
	Knight's teams set a tone in that regard.  They don't just set picks,
they fix bayonets.  Somehow the Hoosiers manage to foul no one while beating
everyone to a pulp.
	Late in the first half here, Rose intercepted an Indiana pass and
galloped off for what appeared to be a routine slam dunk.  Evans raced after
him and aborted the layup by wrapping an arm around Rose's throat and pulling
him backward with all of his might.
	In some states, that is attempted homicide.  In every conference except
the Big Ten, it is an intentional foul and as such would result in Michigan
shooting two free throws, and then getting the ball.  In Assembly Hall
yesterday, Evans was cited for a garden variety personal foul, nothing more.
	"For a game with a lot of scoring," Knight observed later, "there were
not a lot of easy points made."
	Why let an opponent score an uncontested layin in a conference where
anything short of serial murder is regarded as boys being boys?

					Bruce Keidan


JaKe

BOBBY BO QUICKLY TURNING INTO BOBBY BOOR

from The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, 4-14-1993

By

Gene Collier


	His language, according to a New York Post columnist, was something out
of an Attica shower stall.
	His demeanor, lased with bittter arrogance, has spun 180 degrees from
the days when he was aptly described by Pittsburgh writers as "just a big bowl
of sunshine."
	As baseball skids uncertainly into the 1993 season, one of the most
unfortunate stories in the game is the ongoing undoing of the person that used
to be Bobby Bonilla.
	The latest episode in this unseemly serial, Bobby Goes to Pieces, was
perhaps the ugliest yet.
	Upset over a book co-authored by Bob Klapisch and John Harper of the
New York Daily News, Bonilla challenged Klapisch to a fight in the Mets
clubhouse after Saturday's game at Shea Stadium.  The just-released book, "The
Worst Team Money Could Buy" ios a chronicle of the 1992 Mets, who lost 90 games
despite a payroll of about $44 million, the biggest slice of which went into
Bobby's pocket.
	Hours after a series of profane pregame remarks aimed at Klapisch,
Bonilla interrupted a postgame Klapisch interview with Dwight Gooden, saying,
"Come on, Bobby, take your shot, because I will hurt you."
	Turning away from Gooden, Klapisch said to Bonilla, "You want to fight
me?"
	Advancing, Bonilla said, "I'll show you the (expletive) Bronx, right
here."
	At that point, Mets public relations guru Jay Horwitz stepped between
the two.  Bonilla told Klapisch, "This isn't over."  And as he left the locker
room, Bonilla said, "We'll meet again, faggot."
	It is entirely possible that Bonilla is justified in his displeasure
with Klapisch, and that New York's gnawing media is more than even a
multimillionaire who hits .214 at home should be forced to endure.  But
Bonilla's slippage into what seems seriously manic behaviour, almost from the
moment he left the charge of Jim Leyland, has as much to do with Bobby as with
New York's considerable outside forces.
	Though he immediately retreated on the Klapisch outburst, you'll note
Bonilla did not apologize.
	"he shouldn't have wrote what he wrote," Bonilla said on post-game
radio Sunday.  Asked if he'd read the book, Bonilla said, "No, not at all, not
at all."
	Bonilla said he was upset when Klapisch, in a spring training story,
questioned his work habits "when I was sick."  But all Bobby feels he needs to
know about Klapisch right now is that he fails the litmus test Bonilla somehow
developed toward the end of his stay with the Pirates, and the test is this: 
Is this person doing his level best to make Bobby Bo happy?
	How the world started to divide itself into two camps aklong this fault
line is anybody's guess, but it is not unrelated to the skittish rate at which
Bonilla developed as a major league player.
	When the Pirates acquired him from the White Sox by then general
manager Syd Thrift in 1986, Thrift described him as having "gap power," which
is GM speak for "he might hit 110 to 12 homers if he's lucky."
	So nobody was exactly flabbergasted when he knocked 15 in '87, but when
his talent suddenly exploded all around him and he averaged 27 over the next 3
years, Bobby somehow figured the entire exonomic climate of the game now had as
its goal Bobby's personal satisfaction.
	Somewhere in there, Bobby went from "just thrilled to be here with an
opportunity to help the team" tonear violent confrontations with team officials
over the location of his wife's parking space.  Eventually, all of Bobby's
little problems became major organizational crises.
	As a result, Bonilla spent the entire 1991 season leaning on Leyland
over the way the organization was mistreating him, even though it was offering
between $18 million and $25 million for the next four years.  Leyland tried to
tell him he should be having the time of his life, headed for the playoffs and
maybe the World Series and no doubt an immense free-agent contract.  Instead,
Leyland found Bonilla perfectly miserable.
	Bonilla went to New York in just such a state.  he was not so elated
with his $29 million as he was disgusted at how many people back in
Pittsburgh--including some writers--had joined the wrong camp on the happiness
issue.
	Throughout a hugely dissapointing 1992 season--he didn't homer at Shea
until June--and apparently to this day, Bonilla deals with outside stimuli
through a little network of baby sitters and sycophants.  When somebody breaks
through with a bad word, as Klapisch obviously did, the consequences seem to be
escalating.
	It is unfortunate that somebody with as many good qualities as Bobby
now needs somebody to save him from himself.

						Gene Collier




JaKe

    	I don't think Bonilla's outburst was that bad, but because it
    was caught on camera a furor ensued.  I remember years ago when
    a couple of Flyers (and I think Pete Peters was one of them), tried
    to shove a lightbult up a sportswriter's rectum.  Gives new meaning
    to the phrase "you light up my life".
    
    				/Don

    
       It sounds to me like Pitsburghers ought to start getting used 
      to the fact that Bonds and Bonilla have left for greener past-
      ures and get on with your lives. Unless, you want to spend the 
      rest of your lives hating 'em, throwing foreign objects at 'em 
      when their teams come to town and writing columns about their
      idiosynchrises when there has to be something more interesting
      to write about what with baseball season just starting and the
      NHL playoffs around the corner. Collier sounds like a woman 
      scorned.

    >  It sounds to me like Pitsburghers ought to start getting used 
    >  to the fact that Bonds and Bonilla have left for greener past-
    >  ures and get on with your lives.
    
    Especially since the team is once again giving every reason to be
    optimistic about the present and future, already starting at 7-2 
    with the young new guys doing much of the damage.
    
    I heard Keith Hernandez the other night saying that this Bob Klapisch
    guy is a professional instigator in the classic NYC tabloid yellow 
    journalistic mold.  Frankly, it doesn't bother me that every once in 
    a while an athlete shows he's human and puts the scare of god into a 
    cowardly scumbag like that.  Everyone feigns mock indignation that the 
    pampered, childish athlete would do such a horrible thing (and no, it's 
    probably not a wise career move), but little attention is paid to what 
    kind of crap the guy on the other side is pulling, which is usually 
    justified with the old "he's just doing his job" line.
    
    Can a book on such a mundane subject as the 1992 Mets actually sell in
    New York?
    
    glenn
    

>    Can a book on such a mundane subject as the 1992 Mets actually sell in
>    New York?
>    
>    glenn

Imus is panning it bigtime.....


'Saw    

LET'S LEARN TO LOVE TO HATE CHERRY

from The Pittsburgh Press, 5-19-1993

By

Gene Collier

	We're almost a month deep in Don Cherry speculation, and rather than
die an undignified death in hot insanity, it's got legs.  Worse, it's got
tongues.
	We've got Bill Craig, general manager of KBL(JaKenote KBL=local cable
network that carries Pirate and Penguin games), telling us what Cherry will
bring to Penguins broadcasts("a personality that jumps out at you"), and we've
go tthe man-legend wondering himself--quite lucidly--what KBL could possibly
want with him.
	"Do you really want me there with Ulf [Samuelsson] and Jaronir Jagr?"
Cherry says he told Craig when KBL approached.  "I don't know if they'll want
me now after calling Jagr a slug."
	In the vast glossary of Cherry's vitriol, "slug" is a rather benign
entry.  When Don really gets mad, his hockey analysis borders on hate speech.
	If Cherry isn't bigoted, the precepts of his commentary are.  They are
essentially that hockey, to be played correctly, must be contested by
hard-working, English-speaking Canadian boys, their virtue obvious and
inversely proportionate to their number of teeth.
	French Canadians and Americans, as you might expect, are barely
tolerated. Tom barrasso and Mario Lemieux have been frequent Cherry targets. 
Europenas are openly despised, explaining the Jagr remark and the frequent
attacks on Ulf Samuelsson ("he's your worst nightmare, a foreigner with a
shield.")  When Dale Hunter mugged Pierre Turgeon out of the playoffs, there
was one man on the planet who took hunter's side.  A man with a personality
that jumps out at you.  When nine Russians turned up in the NHL in 1989 and
one, Alexander Mogilny, contemplated retirement because his fear of flying was
so acute, guess who said, "One down and eight to go"?
	"I hope they don't turn this into a charade," Mike Lange said
yesterday(JaKenote 2, Mike Lange is the "Voice of the Penguins").  "I'm
confident I can work with anybody, but if I had my druthers, I'd like to see
them use him the way he's used now, doing maybe a three-minute commentary and
use it to hype the broadcast.  As if I don't give 'em enough hype."
	While any or all of this could remove him from KBL's august
consideration, Cherry remains a candidate because Craigcontinues to operate
under a couple of fallacious assumptions.
	The first is this laughable notion that the Pittsburgh audience wants a
broadcast with guts.
	"I don't want the broadcasts to stay sterile and perfect," Craig says.
"I'd like to see us be more entertaining, involve the fans more.  If he came
here, he wouldn't have to worry about me washing his mouth out with soap.  If
Don Cherry thinks Mario is No. 3 behind Bobby Orr and Wayne Gretzky, I want him
to say so."
	Well, that COULD involve the fans more.  The climactic scenes of
"Frankenstein" come to mind.
	Look for a moment at the three most influential team broadcasters in
the history of this market: Bob Prince, Myron COpe, and Lange.
	The late Pirates broadcaster was beloved not only for his efficient and
uniquely descriptive call of the game, but for his careful cultivation of his
we .vs. they mentality that virtually precluded anything resembling a
discouraging word about the local club.  Cope was and is an indispensable
component of Steelermania, a broadcaster whose often screeching support of the
home team is responsible for his status as a local icon, certainly much more so
than his early career as a flat out brilliant writer.  Lange, though the bulk
of his performance is far more tempered  and even-handed, is most famous as the
man who'll tell you which Penguin "beat him like a rented mule."
	There was not and is not an audience that responds much to honest,
down-the-middle commentary, much less open criticism.  Imagine its response to
having Lange's role reduced by a guy who has made agitation a profession.
	"I have been suprised by the amount of interest this has generated," 
Craig said.
	Bill, that's one of us.
	Craig's second fallacious assumption "jumps out" of this quote.
	"I wouldn't tell [Cherry] not to say anything bad about Mario or
Jaromir Jagr, because a journalist must be allowed to work his craft."
	Which end of that latter phrase is more ridiculous, I can't decide.  Is
it that Cherry is a journalist or is that he has a craft?  His "craft" is the
verbal equivalent of ripping the head off a live chicken.
	In fairness to Craig, any time a local broadcasting company goes out
and spends some money to improve the professionalism of its product, especially
in the name of journalism, that effort has to be commended.  In fairness to
Cherry, much of what he says is strictly for effect, and he knows it, although
it would be ripped off the airwaves in the United States and filed under Al
Campanis.
	All that said, and just because I'm a fan of weird social experiments,
here's hoping Cherry gets the job.  You gotta look forward to it.
	It'll be one heckuva week.
				
						Gene Collier



JaKe

WILL BASEBALL DARE TO SHARE?

from The Pittsburgh Press, 1-18-1994

By

Gene Collier

	Today in Fort Lauderdale, Fla., all 28 major-league baseball owners or
their empowered representativesare going to be in the same hotel at the same
time, meaning conditions are favorable for the kind of huge rhetorical wind
shear that makes it hazardous for progressive ideas to fly.
	So don't be suprised if the Lords of Baseball bolt for the airport
Thursday with STILL no agreement on the financial direction of the game. 
Apparantely all these years of spending millions of dollars on .500 pitchers
convinced these people they can buy time as well.  But the game has turned down
a dark street financially, with many clubs, including the Pirates, afraid they
might not find their way out.
	Unless there is 75 percent agreement on revenue sharing(I mean the real
deal, not the watered-down version proposed by the Boston Red Sox in which the
wealthiest clubs kick back a share of their scorecard pencil revenues plus some
entertainment coupons), the game will cease to exist as we know it.  Of course,
if there is agreement, the game will cease to exist as we know it, which is
pretty good.
	Let's look at the first possibility--no agreement on revenue sharing. 
The progressives, with 20 votes, on short ofthe 21 needed, throw up their hands
and stomp away, mumbling something about death to the capitalist dogs.
	St. Petersburg gets the Pirates, Buffalo gets the Brewers, Washington
takes the MAriners and the Expos, expressing a desire to at least remin in a
foreign country, turn up in Beaumont, Texas.
	The capitalist dogs--the New York Yankees, New York Mets, Los Angeles
Dodgers, Toronto Blue Jays, St. Louis Cardinals, Baltimore Orioles, Colorado
Rockies and the Red Sox--secede from the major leagues and form an eight team
super league in which they all set about the business of trying to kill each
other.
	The super league lasts until 1999, when it is disbanded by order of the
World Bank after a chain of events that included a bidding war between the
Yankees and the Rockies over free-agent pitcher Sid Fernandez.  Fernandez, 7-9
in 1998 with only one trip to the 60-day disabled list, ultimately signed with
the Yankees for an amount so astronomical that, according to the World bank,
"it just, like, doesn't exist."
	The remaining 20 teams form two 10-team leagues, share their revenues,
and wind up doing pretty much what they do now:  scout, train and generally
produce players they ultimately can't afford and lose them to the doomed super
league.
	Now the second poissibility--revenue sharing is adopted when the
Cardinals, finally convinced that while their portfolio makes them big market,
their philosophies hae always been small market, side with the progressies.
	The Yankees, instead of having about $53 million in media revenues to
throw around, now have $20 million.  The Mariners, instead of having only $15
million in media revenues, will have $20 million.  Everybody will have $20
million.
	The Mets, with gate receipts not much greater than the Pirates' and
operating expenses of considerably more, will have virtually no chance of
signing free-agent slugger Jeff King(135 rbis in 1994, with seven homers)
because Kinger just can't get any happier than he already is.
 	George Steinbrenner sells the Yankees to Dave Winfield.  The Mets are
sold to David Letterman, who immediately appoints former Mets outfielder Mookie
Wilson general manager because "there's never been a general manager named
Mookie."
	Michael Bolton buys the Dodgers.  Wants to know where the rule is that
you have to play with a hard ball.
	Braves owner Ted Turner is called before new Commissioner Norman
Schwarzkopf and asked why, when Financial World magazine did a detailed
analysis of every professional sports franchise based on gate receipts, media
revenues, stadium revenues, player costs, operating expenses and operating
income in 1991, TBS reported that Braves' media revenues were less than those
taken in by the Pirates.
	Norman asks Ted if he understands this revenue-sharing concept, and
also how smart bombs work.

						Gene Collier


JaKe

    thanks JaKe!
    
    The Crazy Met
    

HERE'S UPDATE ON MILLIONAIRES

By  Gene Collier

from The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette 9-21-1994

        Postcards from the second floor ledge:

*  Now that the remainder of the baseball season has been cancelled due to
lack of sanity, you would suppose it's become unfashionable to continue to
measure the strike in days.  Too bad;  I had planned to celebrate day 41
by listing alphabetically for you the 265 players who were taking at least
$1 million annually from the game.  But here, have a little sampler anyway:
Mike Bordick, Cris Carpenter, Chad Kreuter, Manny Lee, Don Slaught, Dave 
Valle, Randy Velarde, Trevor Wilson.  I know ya miss 'em terribly.

*  If I were Johnny Majors, I'd be acutely tempted to start Anthony Dorsett
Jr. at tailback Saturday against Boston College.  Pitt's tailback depth chart
being virtually wiped out by injuries, Majors could do worse for the lagging 
interest in his team than to announce that he was reverting to a historic 
offensive option: pitching the ball to Dorsett.  Dorsett Jr., for his part, 
isn't exactly lacking athleticism.  he's got the second best vertical leap
on the team to starting tailback Curtis Martin and is a member of the school's
record-holding 4x100 relay team.  Might sell some tickets.  What's the worst 
that could happen?  Pitt could lose.

*  An arbitrator will have the final decision, but it says here the Pirates
were dead right to recall Randy Tomlin from Buffalo, thereby making him a 
striking player, thereby permitting the club to eschew paying him more than
$170,000 of his ridiculous $925,000 salary.  It's bad enough Tomlin got more
than $700,000 for going 0-3.  Not to suggest Randy has lost perspective, but
he's made more than $1 million during the past two years for winning four
and losing 11 and he's less than pleased.

*  Long you've heard the ravings of paranoid factions alleging that too great
a percentage of the world's money supply us concentrated in New York City.
Now comes proof. More than 15,000 paid to see a Rangers-Penguins exhibition
game there Monday night.

*  The Cincinnati Bengals paid $14 million to No. 1 draft pick Dan "Big Daddy"
(you notice no one's ever named Small Daddy)Wilkinson, a defensive lineman
from Ohio State, presumably to get some pressure on opposing quarterbacks.
Three weeks into the seasos and five months into a flood of promising Big
Daddy publicity, the Bengals are the only team in the NFL without a sack.

*  Wilkinson has that inexperience excuse, of course, and he's far from the 
only mega-priced player who hasn't delivered much in this first month.  Jim
Kelly has thrown two more interceptions(six) than touchdown passes(four) and
the Buffalo offense has failed to score in two of its three games.

*  Shaquille O'Neal, the 7-0, 300-pound corporation who dabbles in basketball
during the winter, will appear on QVC shopping network this weekend selling 
Shaq collectibles.  REmember kids, you can NEVER have enough money.  NEVER, 
NEVER, NEVER.  Among the items, Shaw balloons and Shaq giftwrap.  Is there
toilet paper?

*  Judging from the sounds of anything-but-silence coming out of the Southwest,
the roof is falling in on Buddy Ryan at Arizona.  Cardinals fans, impatient
after years of unfullfilled promises, have taken to noting that Buddy doesn't
seem to have that much of an aptitude offensively.  Well, duuh!  Not only that,
Buddy has no offensive talent either.  His three quarterbacks--Steve Beuerlein
Jim McMahon, and Jay Schroeder--have thrown as many passes resulting in 
touchdowns for the opposition as for the noble cause of Buddy Ball.  In
Sunday's game at Cleveland, Buddy's two leading rushers were McMahon and 
Schroeder.

*  Sports Illustrated has already attracted too much publicity for its list
of the 40 most influential sports figures of the past 40 years, but the 
omission of Phillip Knight from the list is preposterous.  Knight, chairman 
of Nike, founded and fueled the shoe company that has successfully turned
a considerable percentage of modern athletes into totally self-absorbed
cartoon characters like Deion Sanders.  Nike's mission to "empower young 
people," especially inner-dity kids, would hold some virtue if Nike would
ever build a shoe factory in the Bronx.  Don't hold your breath.

                                                Gene Collier




                                              
JaKe

  Thanks for entering that. I always get a few chuckles out of his column.

	Keith