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Jock Jerks
Knight, Barkley, Tyson make good reverse role models
By Randy Horick
MARCH 1, 1999:
A couple of years back, when Charles Barkley declared that he had no
interest in serving as a role model for America's children, folks breathed
a fat sigh of relief. Most parents, understandably, weren't too anxious for
their kids to emulate a celebrity who has been known to spit on fans, hurl
saloon patrons through windows, and perennially lead the NBA in
technicals.
Now, however, in the first whomperjawed weeks of the PME (Post-Monica
Era), Sir Charles has no choice. Everybody, like it or not, has to be a
role model. Every behavior must be judged by the effect it will have on our
impressionable youth.
By the logic of the impeachers, we cannot tolerate those, like Barkley
and Bill Clinton, who allegedly set poor examples for the kids.
Our children can learn a lot from watching guys like Charles--and it's
not just how to rebound against tall guys. For instance, I'd be mighty
proud that if, by watching Barkley, my kids grasp that if you possess a
short, violent fuse, people may try to provoke you into throttling them so
they can sue you for hundreds of thousands of dollars.
Then it occurred to me that, notwithstanding the braying of those who
claim that sports have less to teach us than (to use a ridiculous example)
opera, our athletic world actually is replete with unintended exemplars.
For instance:
New York Yankees
Sure, Jesus preached that the meek would inherit the earth. But The Son
of God didn't have to root for the Montreal Expos either. The payroll for
that salt-of-the-earth team roughly equals what the newest member of the
Yankees, Roger Clemens, makes all by himself.
The Yankees weren't content to preserve the winningest club in the
history of major league baseball. Instead, they traded the ace of their
pitching staff for a king: Clemens.
In the process, the Yankees proved once again that the rich tend only to
become richer--and that a hard-nosed, aggressive attitude will bring you
more championship rings than all the beatitudes put together.
David Wells
A season ago, "The Boomer" approached baseball with the unrestrained
exuberance of a kid bounding for the exit on the last day of school. For
good luck, he bought one of Babe Ruth's old Yankees' caps. He rocked the
clubhouse with his Metallica tapes.
He lived a Field of Dreams season, pitching a perfect game,
establishing himself as the top pitcher on the most successful team ever,
and leading the Yankees through the playoffs. Along with Mark McGwire and
Sammy Sosa, Wells helped bring romance back to baseball.
Then, last week, Wells became a poster child for disappointment. After
learning that he'd been unceremoniously traded by the Yanks to Toronto--a
team that he'd already escaped once--Wells was too overwrought to speak.
As an unintentional exemplar, however, he spoke volumes. His case will
doubtless help us return from the giddiness of last season to the reality
that baseball is foremost a business.
And, as for our children, the sooner they learn to deal with dashed
dreams, the better. What better preparation for the possibility that, after
slavishly putting in their 80-hour weeks, they could find themselves
downsized or restructured out of a job.
Mike Tyson
Mike Tyson is a powerful and wealthy sociopath. That's what makes him
such an impressive role model.
A couple of weeks ago, Iron Mike was ordered back behind iron bars after
pleading no contest to the charge of pummeling two punchless old guys with
whom he'd just been in a fender-bender.
Assuming he's over Tinky Winky, even Brother Jerry Falwell would have to
applaud this exemplary behavior. By returning to the pokey, Tyson
heroically demonstrated to America's youth that bad actions bring bad
consequences. I don't know about you, but I want my kids to "be like
Mike"--at least in knowing that if they sexually assault beauty queens,
bite their opponents' ears, and then whack defenseless old people, even
celebrity status and Don King won't keep them out of prison.
Bob Knight
Though Coach Knight is a great teacher of the game, a disciplinarian,
and an honest recruiter, he'll mostly be remembered as a model for
compulsive loutishness: throwing chairs; kicking water coolers; profanely
abusing reporters; profanely abusing referees; profanely abusing players;
creating an international incident by referring to the Brazilian national
women's team as "whores"; and forcing two of his players to find their own
way back to Indiana after a tough road loss--and that's just the first page
of his resum.
It's a wonderful legacy that Bobby will leave us when he finally
departs. Better perhaps than anyone alive, he is showing us that,
regardless of other accomplishments, a career marked by jerky behavior will
lead people to label you as, well, a jerk.
The International Olympic Committee
In the manner of some old-time preachers, Juan Antonio Samaranch and his
gang of 110 let it be known to prospective Olympic hosts that, while
admission could not be charged to them, "love offerings" were welcomed. So
the folks in Sydney and Salt Lake, who didn't just fall off a bobsled,
lavished the IOC with cash and prizes at a rate that suggested Bob Barker
on crank.
Once the shakedowns came to light, of course, some of the especially
ambitious grafters on the Committee were shipped home in disgrace. None,
however, has been asked to return any of the money, college tuition
payments, and job offers for their children, and Lord knows what all else
they extorted.
In the process, these role models by example have imparted to
impressionable young audiences a valuable survival skill for the new
millennium: If (when) you get caught cheating, repent of your misdeeds, but
don't refund the booty.
Auburn football
Near the middle of this losing season, an Auburn booster with more money
than God determined that he was ready for Terry Bowden to add "former" to
his title as football coach. Fortunately for the Tigers' athletic
department, a few hundred thousand dollars were available to remove the
inconvenient obstacle of Bowden's multiyear contract.
Unfortunately, Auburn was scheduled to play this fall at Florida State,
whose coach, Bobby Bowden, salivated at the prospect of inflicting a
100-point humiliation on the Tigers to avenge the shabby treatment of his
son.
Fortunately, the contract with Florida State contained a buyout clause.
All it took for Auburn to weasel out of the game was a check for $500,000.
If you're a parent, you can't help but be grateful to the Tigers for
imparting a valuable lesson: Money not only talks, it beats the fire out of
anything it smacks into.

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