Author: opinionstogo

Remember when sports were pure escape? There was that time, wasn’t there?

You hunkered down and watched, say FOOTBALL, because you really liked it, it was well worth liking and you had a really serious rooting interest. It was what it was. A compelling game that mandated — with allowances for beer runs — your undivided attention. The mundane no longer mattered. Neither did important stuff.

That’s not to say, however, you were the sort to start a website or rent a banner-plane to express yourself. But you did know those who did.

Anyway, each fall of gridiron rivalries and championship scenarios was anticipated and welcomed as part of nature’s seasonal cycle. Leaves turning, time changing, weather chilling, Doppler radar updating and bowl games and playoffs beckoning. The natural order of things.

Now, it’s different. The natural must vie with the contrived.

It’s partly the TV packaging. When it’s not insulting, it’s merely intrusive.

Roving, typically clueless sideline reporters are a distraction. Cameras in the face of players on the bench capture expressions and messages we don’t need to be privy to. Up close and personal is, alas, precisely that. Send back the clowns.

Worse yet, too many people have way too much to say. And they say it while talking over each other. The games have begotten an obnoxious cottage industry of brash-talking cleat heads. Seemingly, no one is hired to be informed, analytical and pleasant. Doesn’t make for good TV. You have to be a “Type-A” football personality. Would that the “A” only stood for annoying.

When Stuart Scott and Terry Bowden are among the least offensive, it’s not a good sign.

But it’s mostly the players, specifically the deportment department. I sense that a lot of us are increasingly inured to their antics, but at times it’s just impossible to transcend boorish actions of athletes. The time between plays used to be reserved for re-grouping as a team. Now, it’s prime time for the self-congratulatory.

As a result, the games’ ebb and flow is more stop and go; the play is continuously interspersed with choreography and histrionics. Coaches condone it, and networks promote it. Would that some responsible adult could just step in and help all parties differentiate between the exuberantly colorful and the exasperatingly classless.

I know a lot of us could. I already do. Each weekend.

A highly sanitized version would be: “Hey, self-important punk, it’s only an incomplete pass, not The Rapture.”

It’s not like there isn’t already a fitting forum for strutting, wiggling, gyrating, pelvis-thrusting and cheesy chatter. It’s called BET videos.

But here’s another reason — in addition to intimidated coaches, complicit networks and a dysfunctional black culture — why this genie of tasteless behavior won’t be rebottled. Too many fans ostensibly like it — or don’t dislike it enough — when it’s “their” team. For example, those who exulted into a high-five frenzy while watching Warren Sapp pay end zone homage to Beyonce Knowles are part of the process that is turning good football into bad lounge acts.

Billy “White Shoes” Johnson, thanks for nothing. Your legacy is alive and, well, wiggling.

This weekend Bobby Bowden turned 74 and remained two games ahead of Penn State’s Joe Paterno as major college football’s all-time winningest coach. Both Bowden and Paterno lost; the former to Clemson, coached by son Tommy, the latter to Northwestern.

Bowden doesn’t say much when asked about the record and the ostensible mano a mano with Paterno. It’s awkward — especially given Paterno’s fall of discontent — and he generally dismisses the subject in a light-hearted vein. He saves it for the media and fans to chat up.

That they do — as well as speculate about how long both Paterno, who turns 77 next month, and Bowden will keep going. The high-pressure, high-stakes arena that is big-time college coaching is hardly a septuagenarian’s pursuit.

While Bowden will never admit it, if his health cooperates, he just might want to try and coach a few more years beyond Paterno. But not to pad his numbers. More like to validate them.

At this stage, it’s all about legacy — and Bobby’s has an asterisk. Not all of his victories — unlike Paterno’s and Bear Bryant’s — came against major competition. He has 31 grandfathered wins against small schools, starting with Maryville, from when he coached his alma mater Howard (now Samford).

He gets to count Millsaps as if it were Michigan.

It is, of course, permissible, but it’s not quite right. And over the years, it will be brought up again — especially if Bob Stoops makes a career of college coaching. So look for Bowden, if possible, to try and top Paterno by at least 32 victories. But don’t look for him to say so.

For too many years USF bore the burden of an inferiority complex. “South Florida” was a confusing, geographic misnomer. It was “merely” a “commuter school.” It was someBrobdingnagian misfit — the biggest school in the country without a football team. It was the Tampa Bay area’s “best kept secret,” etc.

No more.

USF is an acknowledged national player among urban research universities. It has taken quantum leaps in on-campus housing. Its regional economic impact is measured in 10 figures. It’s unabashedly accessible to those who live within a commutable distance and plays a key, hands-on partnership role — from health clinics to urban planning — with its community.

And, yes, it has a head-turning 1-A football program that calls the best stadium in the country home.

And now that football team — and all other intercollegiate sports — will soon be part of the Big East Conference. Certainly by 2005. Conceivably by next season.

The Big East is big prestige and bigger dollars than USF is used to. It means, for example, Notre Dame and Syracuse on a regular basis. It means the promise of better recruiting. It means the basketball program may finally find a niche other than under-achiever.

There’s also this. In the higher education scheme of things, it shouldn’t matter whether you’re in a BCS conference or not. It shouldn’t matter how you are represented on the fields and courts of play. But it does. Unless you are a university founded in the 18th or 19th centuries and arrayed in ivy and liberalized arts, having this kind of high national profile really matters. And it matters across the board — from endowment gifts to undergraduate interest.

It took a while, but USF obviously has learned a key lesson. If you choose to play, you must play to win. With an enrollment of 40,000 and a TV-market that is 13th in the nation, USF couldn’t be satisfied with non-BCS Conference USA any more than it could be satisfied playing 1-AA football.

Well done. Now play to win in the Big East — including basketball.

For an alumnus of Penn State who’s a die-hard fan of Nittany Lion football and head coach Joe Paterno, these are the worst of times. It’s not unlike seeing Willie Mays misplay a fly ball as a Met. Or Muhammad Ali rope-a-dope himself at the end. Or Sugar Ray Leonard fail at summoning the reflexes of his prime.

It’s sad to witness.

“JoePa” has embodied winner and class in his nearly four decades at the helm of Penn State football. His “noble experiment” of succeeding without compromising principles long ago secured a place in the pantheon of American sports legends. Along the way he won a couple of national championships and more than once turned down the National Football League.

An Ivy League grad and voracious reader, Paterno is educated far beyond game plans and recruiting strategies. He has always expected his players to be more than one-dimensional extensions of the football program. There is no jocks-only athletic dorm on campus. Paterno’s name is on a wing of the library. He has spoken at commencement.

He has been good for — and to — the game, and he will be missed. But the missing should have commenced by now. He would have been a tough — no, impossible — act to follow. Now, it will be a relief when his successor is announced. This season will be his third loser in the last four. He has overstayed his legacy.

Listen to the take of Ed Christine, the editor of the Scranton Times , a Pennsylvania daily that staffs Penn State football with two reporters. His perspective is dispiriting.

“You watch that team, and it’s apparent they’re getting outplayed, outmanned and outcoached — there’s an air of confusion on the sidelines,” says Christine. “His players aren’t as good — including their character.

“He’s not aging gracefully,” assesses Christine. “The first couple of times he went (running) after officials, it was seen as fiery and kind of cute. Now it’s getting annoying; he’s like an old scold. People wish he had gone out on top. I’m afraid there’s no light at the end of this tunnel.”

The obvious problem is Paterno’s age: 76. In and of itself, however, that’s less of an issue for most alumni and fans than it is for teenaged recruits. For older generations, Paterno has been an icon. But for the 18-year-old blue-chippers, he looks like the guy you take your shoes to. He’s not charismatic and folksy the way down-home, 73-year-old Bobby Bowden is. He’s not, well, ESPN cool. In fact, Paterno can appear downright self-righteous and terminally grumpy.

Moreover, he doesn’t preside over a high-octane program that looks like the perfect place for a player to prep for the pros — as FSU’s still does.

Even PSU’s uniforms conspire against him. When the Lions were winning, they were plain and traditional. Football’s pinstripes. Now that they’re losing, they’re plainly boring. You not only don’t get your name on the back of your jersey, you don’t even get good-play helmet decals.

Paterno is also a holdout from the ranks of coaches who condone and enable a self-congratulating, look-at-me, in-your-face, trash-talking, college football culture.

The BET generation notices.

As a result, he doesn’t get the players anymore. Certainly not like Florida State still does. The name of the college game has always been recruiting. Penn State used to get the Lion’s share of top, in-state talent. It would also cherry pick New Jersey and upstate New York. It no longer does.

But Paterno seems adamant about staying on. The closest thing to an heir apparent, assistant head coach Fran Ganter, has been with Paterno so long that he is arguably part of the problem.

For Paterno, there’s plenty of ego involved. It’s never easy to relinquish center stage — as Mays, Ali and Leonard can attest. And it’s hard to walk away from what has come to define you. He has been at Penn State since 1950. It’s also difficult to stop what you still like doing — in Paterno’s case, working with young people and enjoying the competition — if not the results.

There might also be a Last Hurrah complex. Those who have done it often can’t believe they can’t do it again. Just one more run.

Very few can. Paterno, alas, isn’t likely to be the exception.

Hillsborough County’s Armwood High School has the state’s number-one ranked 4A football team. The program is solid, the talent level obvious and the work ethic of coaches and players self-evident. The result could be a long-awaited state championship.

As for the future, it was interesting to note what Armwood’s “Programs of Interest” would be. Starting next year, Armwood will offer (along with “American Sign Language”) “Olympic Sports.” It’s designed for students “who plan to go to college and major in physical education, physical therapy recreation or a related field, or who plan to pursue amateur Olympic/collegiate and/or professional athletic careers.”

Hmm. Is that an athletic loophole the size of which the next Booger McFarland could barrel through? Might there be some speedy wideouts and studly lineman in such a mix? Could this further arm Armwood?

Not likely, says Armwood Athletic Director Dan Pickern. Students interested in sports journalism, physical therapy and turf management will be attracted. Athletic sorts will be in selected Olympic sports — such as softball, wrestling, volleyball and track and field.

“There’s really no correlation,” explains Pickern. “Football is not an Olympic sport.”

So that’s that — unless, of course, a budding track star or hulking shot putter decides to look at another varsity sport

Whether the Bucs make the playoffs this year, much less advance any further, is sobering testimony to factors beyond the control of Jon Gruden, Monte Kiffin, Rich McKay and any and all Glazers.

The NFL, with its premium on parity, might as well stand for “Not For Long” — as in the reign of defending Super Bowl champions. The salary cap, free agency, tougher schedules for high achievers and reverse-order-of-finish college draft conspire against a Super Bowl redux, let alone a dynasty.

Then add the vagaries of refereeing (Oops, that on-side kick recovery really wasn’t legal and shouldn’t have been allowed) and the misfortune of crippling injuries, and it’s easy to see how a Super Bowl year can be followed by a sub-par season.

Much more frustrating, however, are the scenarios that could unfold for the Lightning. Under the stern and savvy leadership of coach John Tortorella, the Lightning are no longer a parody of an NHL team. They are good and getting better. Expectations legitimately include a Stanley Cup run.

The timing, however, couldn’t be worse — or more ironic.

The collective bargaining agreement between the league and the players’ association expires Sept. 15, 2004. To date, discussions have gone nowhere.

The critical issue is salary cap — not unlike what the NFL imposes. No other major pro league spends a higher percentage (76 percent) of revenues on player salaries and benefits. And no other league needs one more.

The NHL is not only not flush like the NFL, but it’s in serious financial straits. Last year the league’s 30 teams totaled operating losses of some $300 million. Two franchises, Ottawa and Buffalo, filed for bankruptcy. Its network television money is a veritable pittance. Teams are overly dependent on ticket sales — just to limit losses. It’s no way to run — or stay — in business.

While the players’ association remains adamant in its opposition to a salary cap, the owners are doing nothing to dispel the notion that a lockout awaits. Should that occur, and talk is of a stoppage that could last more than a season, it could be disastrous for the NHL. It doesn’t have the staying power to survive — at least intact — such a shutdown showdown. Smaller-market franchises in areas without an established hockey culture — such as the Lightning — are especially vulnerable. Last year the Lightning had its most successful season ever — yet still lost a reported $10 million.

The Bucs post-championship challenge was a formidable one: to defy the odds and repeat. Should the Lightning’s Cup runneth over, the Bolt’s challenge could be even more daunting: to defy economic reality and stay in business.