SPORT AND SOCIETY -- BROADCASTS

An archived directory of past broadcasts

SPORT AND SOCIETY--BROADCAST OF FRIDAY JULY 05, 1996
ON WUCF-FM 89.9



(This commentary was originally broadcast in May of 1995)
There has been a commercial running on the tube the past few months in which a young father is sitting at a Little League baseball game with a cellular telephone. After the kid comes to bat and gets a hit dad dials up mom and passes on the news. High tech has come to Little League baseball. Dad can connect Mom to the game instantaneously, and of course in the World of TV the news is good. The kid gets a base hit. In the next version mom will run to the computer and send the news to grandma on the internet.
This little TV melodrama sent me back to something I have been thinking about a great deal lately, and that is just how much sport for kids has changed in the past forty years since I was Little League age.
In fact I never played Little League baseball. It was a suburban phenomenon in my area, and I was a child of the city. When I played baseball as a child it was at the park. In summer I, along with several friends, would go off with glove and bat and ball to an empty lot or a park where we would play baseball. We walked there. No one's mother had to give us a ride. Sometimes others would join us, and at times there were enough players for six or seven to a side and we would play a game. If not, we would ta ke our turns pitching, hitting, and fielding, often for hours on end. In winter the pattern was replicated for hockey.
There were no parents, no coaches, no uniforms, no sponsors, no spikes, no gatorade, no parents, no noth'in. Just a bat, a ball, and some kids. It was fun. It was challenging. There were pressures to perform better than one's peers. There were arguments:
It was a strike!
Was not!
Was too! And it could deteriorate from there.
When we were a little older, thirteen or fourteen, there was a coach and even a uniform, while playing for the primary school team. There was a little more pressure, but again, mostly it was fun. There were even a few parents, but no one paid much attenti on to them and mostly they did not make fools of themselves or embarrass their children.
It was largely disorganized sport. And mostly it was fun.
What has happened to that world? It is still there, certainly in the inner city with basketball, but in the middle class world of America, it is gone. Replaced by Little League with its uniforms, sponsors, multiple coaches, screaming parents, the obsession to win, rules and regulations, and documentation. District, regional, and national championships are the oversight responsibility of district, regional, and national officials. There is even television, the ultimate validator of the modern sporting expe rience.
All of which increases the pressures on ten, eleven and twelve year old kids, and gives ulcers to their parents. What happened to the older world? It is gone. The victim of modern society with all of its attendant problems.
The idea that kids could go off on their own without adult supervision for a day to a public park is nearly unthinkable. The fear of child molesters, drug dealers, kidnappers, and assorted perpetrators of evil is so great that parents would not think of letting their children go that far from home without adult supervision. The dangers of modern urban living, or at least the fear of those dangers, are just too great.
The notion of spontaneous play has nearly gone out of our world. If it's not organized, not scheduled, does not register in the standings nor lead to a championship, it no longer seems worth doing. Is this the thought pattern of the modern child?
Whatever the case may be, something has been lost, and I think mostly that something is fun. Sport should first of all be playful and fun, before it becomes structured and organized. And each child should have an opportunity to experience sport at that level.
Recently my brother-in-law took his six-year-old to a basketball activity at a local gym. The assumption was that the six-year-olds would get their introduction to the game. Presumably they would learn the fundamentals of passing and dribbling, and get some instruction on shooting and rules.
Instead what they got was a highly structured clinic of complex passing, driving, and shooting drills directed by a gung-ho high school coach. And the topper was that the session ended with shooting baskets. Well, not just shooting. Shooting for dollars. Dollars! Six year olds! Shooting for dollars!
They never did this on Walton's Mountain, and we never did this in my neighborhood.
On Sport and Society this is Dick Crepeau reminding you that you don't have to be a good sport to be a bad loser.

SPORT AND SOCIETY--BROADCAST OF FRIDAY JUNE 28, 1996
ON WUCF-FM 89.9



(This commentary was first broadcast in November of 1995 and is presented in this encore performance as a tribute to the L.A.-St.Louis Rams)
The State of Nebraska is not exactly the hub of the universe. In the last half century it has been best known for two things: Father Flanagan's Boys Town and college football. It would seem now that these once separate attractions have been joined together. Tom Osborne, football coach at Nebraska has become the new Father Flanagan. Boys Town has moved from Omaha to Lincoln.
Father Flanagan, a catholic priest who ran a home for boys, established a national reputation for rehabilitating troubled youth. He managed to market his success and had a national fund raising operation that made Boys Town the best known and best funded such home in America.
With Father Flanagan having passed on and Boys Town not quite as prominent as it once was, Tom Osborne seems to be trying to fill the gap. Over the past several months Nebraska's football program has been plagued by cases of documented and alleged assault s by football players on their girlfriends, not to mention charges of attempted murder against another player.
The most prominent of these cases in the Nebraska football program involved the star of the team, and was major news in part because of the way it was handled by Tom Osborne in his new role as Father Flanagan.
Lawrence Phillips, whose picture is on the front of the University of Nebraska football media guide, was arrested for assaulting his former girl-friend who happens also to be a star of the women's basketball program. He broke into an apartment at 5:45 a.m., threw her to a bathroom floor, dragged her down three flights of stairs by the hair, and had to be separated from her by two men. Osborne immediately suspended Phillips from the team and later acknowledged that Phillips had prior warning to stay away from the woman or face dismissal from the team.
At nearly the same time another Nebraska player faced charges of attempted murder. In this case Osborne said that after reviewing the evidence he would not suspend this player. Some wondered how Osborne was able to make these decisions about guilt or innocence before the courts did. Clearly he knows and understands troubled youth.
After a few short weeks of consternation Father Tom reinstated Phillips who then was cheered heartily by Nebraska fans when he entered his first game. The reinstatement came despite the fact that he was awaiting sentencing after a plea of no contest.
So why was this done? Cynics across the country say that Osborne is simply obsessed by the pursuit of a national championship and millions of dollars for the university. First of all, Nebraska's national championship would come with or without the services of Phillips. Second, Tom Osborne's record as coach at Nebraska does not indicate such a win at any cost attitude.
So why, then? Father Tom basically has taken the position that his only motive is to save the life of this troubled young man. Tom says that it is clear that football is a major organizing factor in Phillips' life. Without it he might leave the university. Naturally the cynics point out that football didn't provide enough structure to prevent the assault in the first place as it took place during the night following a Nebraska football game.
For his transgressions Phillips has been placed on probation by the university, must undergo counselling, do community service, and perhaps most amazing of all he must go to all classes. Going to classes as a punishment dished out by a university is seen by some as too harsh as well as a unique concept.
Did Father Tom consider the possibility that Phillips ought to demonstrate that he belonged on a college campus by going to classes and staying out of trouble, while continuing to practice with the team under the watchful eye of coaches? That perhaps he s hould earn reinstatement to the team? Would that not have been structure enough?
And more significantly what does this say about the issue of assault on women or anyone else? The Center for the Study of Sport and Society at Northeastern University has found that football players have significantly higher rates of assault charges brought against them than other students.
We all know of universities that have covered up in these cases. Some football players have become legendary for this sort of violent anti-social behavior. Will Osborne's actions contribute anything to these trends one way or another? Has the University o f Nebraska made a statement about violence on campus that is worthy of an institution of higher learning?
Or would Father Flanagan agree that a running back is a terrible thing to waste?
On Sport and Society this is Dick Crepeau reminding you that you don't have to be a good sport to be a bad loser.

SPORT AND SOCIETY--BROADCAST OF FRIDAY JUNE 21, 1996
ON WUCF-FM 89.9



Did you ever stop to think that Dennis Rodman is the author of the number one best selling non-fiction book in America? Other than the fact that this gives the term "non-fiction" a peculiar meaning, what does this say about the current state of affairs in American Sport and American Society?
Rodman brings the NBA one step closer to the World Wraslin Federation, although it was clearly close without him what with its overblown player introductions and the growing amount of trash talking and PR hype all of which are variations on the same theme.
If Dennis Rodman is not resigned by the Bulls or anyone else in the league he now has several options available. No doubt the best selling author has at least one sequel in him. With a few more pounds of beef he could move right into the WWF where he woul d be a natural, or he could make the intermediate step and become a wide-receiver in Arena Football. If he can sing Dennis would be a knockout in Key West as a nightclub performer in drag. The hot pink boa and silver dress with matching hair and pumps were just smashing and would knock'em dead on Duval Street.
Hockey has not escaped this increase in volume and hype either. Openings for hockey games in Orlando and in many of the NHL cities now feature show business melodrama worthy of the owner of the Anaheim Ducks. The throwing of squid, rats, fish and, in Orlando, sunglasses, onto the ice has cheapened, and in some cases overshadowed the hockey players. The music and the mini-contests in the stands during breaks in the action further dilute attention from the athletic skills and demean both the players and the sport.
But then all of this seems like one more step into the madness that one finds in other facets of modern sport. Owners continue to be an amazing lot of fools. Marge Schott has distinguished herself with a string of ignorant comments and foolish cost-cutting measures that have overshadowed the Cincinnati Reds baseball team in that community. Once again Schott has demonstrated that to get rich in America requires little or no intelligence.
Schott's fellow-baseball owners find it easy to match her. Thinking that somehow suspending her from the game will serve any useful purpose is at best silly. At worst it is a blatant display of a double standard. Baseball owners who are ignorant men apparently are acceptable, while ignorant women are not, in this dubious fraternity of fuzzing thinking millionaires. None of this surprises anyone as these are the same people who cancelled a baseball season and then cancelled a World Series for no apparent reason, other than their own inability to restrain themselves from paying out too much money to mediocre talents.
Owners are also the ones who have created the phenomenon of selling the name of arenas and stadia for commercial purposes. We now have 3-Com Park in San Francisco, several airline arenas, the Arco Arena, and the Target Center. I am not sure who started this sleazy practice but it reached a new low with the announcement last week by Malcom Glazer, owner of the Tampa Bay Bucs, that he was renaming Tampa Stadium, Houlihan's Stadium. So here we have it, a public facility carrying the name of a middle-brow restaurant chain, owned by Glazer and not even operating in Tampa. I suppose this is no worse than being named after a discount chain like Target, but where will it stop? I wouldn't expect an answer to this question soon, as we are still a long way from the bottom in public taste.
Of course owners do not have a monopoly on public ignorance. Albert Belle's various PR disasters make him the poster boy for athlete's foot-in-mouth disease. Lawrence Phillips has just added another line to his resume, thus rewarding the L.A.-St.Louis Rams for their own form of ignorance. My guess is that Phillips was simply off-track because he did not have Nebraska football and Fr. Tom Osborne Flanagan to give the proper structure to his life in Lotus Land.
Of a less serious and more humorous nature are several recent quotes. Harry Cary commented after a game that ended with a homer and a Cub victory that if you looked over into the Phillies dugout you could see "the other emotional extremity." And just which one is that Harry?
On the NBA radio broadcasts Brent Musburger kept calling Jack Ramsey, Dr. Jack, providing a dark Kevorkian side to the games.
In Atlanta John Schmoltz was recently quoted about his success near the end of last year, producing this double whammy: "I think my career is ahead of me now. I don't think I've even tipped the iceberg on how good I could get."
And finally in a stroke of sheer brilliance and with more truth than no doubt intended, Steve Garvey said during a telecast of the College World Series, "I have long since given in to the other gender." Thanks for reminding us, Steve.
On Sport and Society this is Dick Crepeau reminding you that you don't have to be a good sport to be a bad loser.

SPORT AND SOCIETY--BROADCAST OF FRIDAY JUNE 14, 1996
ON WUCF-FM 89.9



This week for Father's Day I want to talk about the man who taught me a love of sport, and especially a love of baseball, and who taught me much about life.
Charles Crepeau was approaching his eighty-first birthday, when he died of a heart attack on the 27th of May, 1992, during a Twins-Yankee game at the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome in Minneapolis, the city of his birth and most of his life. He was at his familiar stand in the press box where he supervised the radio and television section. He had performed similar duties in the press box at Tinker Field during spring training until the Minnesota Twins moved on to a more lucrative location. These were the center of his activities after his retirement from Wilson Sporting Goods.
My earliest recollections of him are associated with sport. From before my birth he umpired baseball and softball, played softball on his company team, and refereed basketball. I remember going with him when he umpired baseball games on Sunday afternoons at North Commons Park in Minneapolis in the late 40s. Large crowds gathered there from the surrounding neighborhoods. Even then "Chuck" was a local fixture, as well known as most of the players, if not always admired for his decisions behind the plate. But whatever the controversies of the game, the anger did not last, because those who knew him knew that he was an honest man, knew that he was there out of a love of the game and for the young men who played.
He umpired grade school baseball and refereed grade school basketball in the CYO leagues throughout Minneapolis, and was known and loved around the city. Especially in basketball he was a wonder to many, as he carried 180 to 200 pounds on his 5 foot, 5 inch frame. He could get up and down the court quickly, was amazingly light on his feet, and was never caught out of position.
Whether it was baseball or basketball he was always in control of the game, and worked by the rule that a good official at any sport should not be noticed. Other than his size and shape he seldom violated that maxim, and always did his best to keep the game centered on the players.
During the late 1950s with the emergence of Little League baseball he was pulled in that direction. He started umpiring games, then started supplying umpires for first one league and then several others in suburban Minneapolis. In the late '70s and early '80s he became district commissioner of Little League baseball in the Twin City area.
His approach to Little League was like his approach to all baseball. It was there for the young boys who played it, not for the coaches, not for the parents. He believed it should be fun, and a learning experience for those who played. He demanded that le ague officials control parents, and remove those who did not understand the purpose of the game.
When he umpired he was always the teacher. He would give advice to the catcher, might tell a hitter to move his back foot closer to the plate, or correct a hitch in the pitcher's motion. He wanted everyone to play well, play hard, and above all enjoy the game.
In the five years that I umpired with him I learned a lot about the game and even more about him. We had a great time umpiring together, always enjoying the games, and always knowing we had given our best. When I worked a game with him, I always left knowing that I had worked with the best umpire there could be at any level. Most of the crowd thought the same thing. The players loved him, and when the players and crowd saw him approaching the field they were delighted to see that Chuck would be doing their game that night.
After his retirement he spent his winters here in Florida, and took up the game of golf. I took up the game with him. On the course he and I played poorly, but we enjoyed the competition, the exercise, and the chance to spend a few hours together. And always we talked baseball.
In 1991 he was at his third World Series, and saw our beloved Twins win their second championship, in what had to be the greatest Series of all time. The morning after the final game he called. I picked up the phone and heard his familiar voice say, "Did you see it? What a game, what a Series." We chattered on for several minutes and then he closed the conversation saying, "I just had to call you, it was such a great Series."
In the last few years of his life as his friends were dying off he said to me on more than one occasion, "I want to go quickly, and if I have my choice of where, I want it to be at the ballpark." He did, and he was. It could not have been better.
He often introduced me as his son the college professor, and then would say that he taught me everything I know. I don't know, if he knew, how right he was.
On Sport and Society this is Dick Crepeau reminding you that you don't have to be a good sport to be a bad loser.

SPORT AND SOCIETY--BROADCAST OF FRIDAY JUNE 6, 1996
ON WUCF-FM 89.9



It is quite amazing that you can leave town for ten days and in such a short time nearly everything has changed in sportsworld Orlando.
Coming back into town on Sunday it was the Orlando-Utah matchup that occupied the O-rena. The only problem is that the floor of the building was covered with ice, and the IHL playoffs had replaced those of the NBA. Shaq, Dennis, Nick and Horace were gone, and the only Penny out there was the one that was thrown onto the ice with all those sunglasses.
Out on the road while the Bulls dismantled the Magic I was able to see only bits and pieces of games, but it was obvious that the sweep resembled a mismatch at times. It was also obvious that the medical reports were as important as the game plan. Without Grant and Shaw, with a crippled Koncack and a hamstrung Penny, and with Nick in civies, this was not the same team that won 60 games in the regular season.
But make no mistake about it the Orlando Magic even at full strength were no match for the Chicago Bulls. This was a team that won over seventy games this season with the best all-around player, the best rebounder, and an all-star small forward. Jordan, Rodman and Pippen complemented by an exceptional group of role players, and coached by the master of Zen and the Art of Basketball, the Chicago Bulls are arguably the best team in NBA history. What they did to Seattle on Wednesday should remind Magic fans that their team was beaten by very the best in the NBA.
As for the Magic they do have problems. Shaq can't make a free throw to save his soul. Dennis and Nick can't shoot with anyone playing defense against them. There is no bench, an area in which Brian Hill has failed as a coach. The defense against the Bulls was at times non-existent and the Magic looked like the Matadors with defenders waving as the Bulls charged to the hoop.
While out on the road people repeatedly asked me who was going to be the next Magic coach. Clearly in the national media Brian Hill is down the drain. This of course is largely the creation of NBC and the illusions perpetrated by the self-important Jim Grey. I read a report in the Atlanta paper on Sunday that John Gabriel was trying to figure out which player to trade, Dennis or Nick. And nearly everyone assumes that Shaq has already left for L.A.
It is time for cooler heads to prevail. Losing to the Chicago Bulls in four straight with a pack of injuries is no reason to push the panic button. John Gabriel does not need to back up the truck. Brian Hill does not need to be sent down the slide to New Jersey. What this team needs is some minor adjustments in both personnel and coaching philosophy, no more, and more importantly, no less.
Finally if the Magic don't sign Horace Grant it will create further problems. If they don't sign Shaq they can pack up the franchise. Instead of a need for a bigger arena or slim-fast seating, they will be looking for a permanent sign to place in front of the O-rena reading simply "Game Tonight: Plenty of Good Seats Still Available."
I left town amidst much anticipation and false expectations over the series with the Bulls, only to return to find everything in disarray leaving me to wonder if I had taken a wrong turn somewhere in Georgia.
If that wasn't enough I then read that the Tampa Bay Bucs are again near to cutting a deal with Osceola County. Why would anyone want to front tax dollars to lure this team to Central Florida? Wouldn't it be a better investment to pay them to stay in Tampa? At the same time Orlando authorities are looking for $124M to renovate the Citrus Bowl, which seems to be eternally in renovation. The object is to get an NFL franchise. Where were these people when Jacksonville was given the expansion franchise and wh en the Bucs were looking desparately for a new home in the spring?
Another story indicates that the Orlando Cubs are about to be sold to the Tampa Bay Devil Rays and this we are told could lead Norton Herrick to sue the City of Orlando. This is the same Norton Herrick whom the city gave the exclusive rights to bring a major league baseball team to Orlando. The vague legal logic seems to be that the sale of the Cubs to the Devil Rays will essentially give the Devil Rays territorial rights in Orlando and therefore veto power to prevent a major league team from coming here.
The City is responsible for Herrick's theoretical financial loss preventing him from bringing a team here that he doesn't have, because the City of Orlando could veto any sale of the Cubs to the Devil Rays by virtue of the City's control over Tinker-to Evers-to Chance Field. Herrick will therefore be prevented from doing something he can't do anyway, and will suffer a great financial loss.
I am not making any of this up.
On Sport and Society this is Dick Crepeau reminding you that you don't have to be a good sport to be a bad loser.

SPORT AND SOCIETY--BROADCAST OF FRIDAY MAY 31, 1996
ON WUCF-FM 89.9



A few years ago a classic American drama unfolded in Channelview, Texas, where Wanda Holloway, 37, was charged with attempted murder. The charge was that Wanda tried to hire a hit man to kill Verna Heath whose daughter Amber was pushing Shanna Holloway, Wanda's little girl, to defeat in the school cheerleading competition. This was a story that touched the hearts of all Americans and is still available on video.
Who could fail to identify with Wanda Holloway, the good mother, who was willing to risk her future in order to ensure that her daughter would live out the dream of all American girls. To be a cheerleader is no small thing in America, and in Texas to be a cheerleader is a very big thing indeed.
You knew and I knew at the time that this was an ideal made-for-TV movie, and within months it became so, in a cheap, shallow, and unimaginative ABSleaze epic. What we didn't know was that it would also become an excellent and insightful film offering by HBO of this off-centered slice of American life.
"The Positively True Adventures of the Alleged Texas Cheerleader-Murdering Mom," is a wonderful portrait of the American dream just slightly out of focus. There is nothing more fascinating than watching people earnestly pursue an absurd course with the tenacity of a politician in heat. Director Michael Ritchie has achieved this with flair, humor, and a jaundiced eye, replicating his achievement in his earlier film, "Smile."
Ritchie has cast Holly Hunter in the lead as Wanda Holloway. If cable movies were eligible for Oscar nominations, Holly Hunter would already have one as best actress for this gem. Her Texas accent spit out in a machine gun manner, clipped and abrupt, along with her body language and attitude are both energetic and hypnotic.
Wanda Holloway is played with brilliance as a working class woman moving up the social ladder, resentful of those moving with her or faster than her, and determined to walk through the slights, while achieving her dreams of success through her daughter Sh anna. In this case the Holy Grail of Texas teenage feminine existence is at stake, and Wanda is determined that Shanna will have it.
As Wanda sees the prize slipping away she turns to her ex-brother-in-law, Terry Harper, your basic Texas low life, petty thief, loser, and husband of the unstable Maria Harper whom he abuses. Maria is played in a convincing manic manner by Swoosie Kurtz. Terry is approached by Wanda about the possibility of hiring a hit man to take out Verna Heath, the mother, of Amber Heath, the cheerleader, or both. Worried that he could be set up, Harper goes to the police, a less than savory lot themselves, and the result is that Harper is wired to tape the evidence on Wanda.
If the premise sounds bizarre, it is nothing compared to what comes after the arrest. Almost everyone instantly senses the potential of this case, and the media circus begins. Newspapers, magazines, talk shows on radio and TV, the sleaze TV magazine shows, comedians, are all discussing the case within days of the indictment. The Tonight Show is next. Verna Heath even begins to keep a scrapbook, and Wanda's ex-husband begins to negotiate the movie rights.
The film offers a look at the banality of small town life and the not-so-quiet desperation of its inmates, done with a deft touch and some extremely clever humor.
At one point with Wanda at the local Baptist church playing the piano, the pastor asks the congregation to pray, "for any of our parishioners who are sick, troubled, or indicted." Wanda Holloway is all three while others in the case qualify for prayer on at least two counts.
The most striking thing about the story is the intensity of feeling surrounding the quest for cheerleader status. At one point Wanda explains that this is a very significant career move for Shanna, it could lead to a college scholarship, a modeling career, and who knows what from there. The emotional investment by the two mothers in the lives of their daughters is massive and frightening. The class consciousness emanating in no particular direction gives an added edge to the film's tension.
Although based on a true story, this is clearly a docu-drama, a cautionary tale about the significance of this central female role in the American sportsworld. If Wanda Holloway was guilty of anything it was that she loved her daughter too much, she understood the value of cheerleading as an adolescent career move, and the true significance of Sport in America.
Wouldn't we all have done the same for our children?
On Sport and Society this is Dick Crepeau reminding you that you don't have to be a good sport to be a bad loser.

SPORT AND SOCIETY--BROADCAST OF FRIDAY MAY 24, 1996
ON WUCF-FM 89.9



In New York everything is the biggest and the best. The highs are higher and the lows are lower. It is of course the center of the American universe. Just ask anyone from New York and they will be more than happy to tell you.
This was driven home once again this past week when Dwight Gooden pitched a no-hitter for the Yankees, and the baseball universe stopped. Because it was Gooden it had special meaning. The destruction of "Doc" Gooden of the New York Mets by drugs was a well-documented, indeed over-documented story. It was to be sure a human tragedy of the Greek variety. The young talented teenager had come to New York, conquered the city with his talent, charmed the city with his personality, and then let the corruption of this city drag him into the depths. Gooden's Achilles heel turned out to be drugs and an immaturity that left him ill-equipped to handle the fame and fortune showered down upon him.
When he fell the Greek chorus of the New York and national media lamented his downfall to the point of wallowing in it. They denounced the fallen hero for his weakness and portrayed him as one who betrayed his public, his teammates, and the kiddies of the nation. The failed attempts at rehabilitation only added to the volume of the chorus. Dwight Gooden had become the object lesson of all that was wrong with the young ungrateful millionaires who had been godded by the press and indulged with privilege by the corrupt system of celebrity sport.
Now a couple of years later that same press is proclaiming Gooden as the greatest example of a comeback in human history. Endless columns of newsprint and miles of videotape have been expended in this process. The prodigal son has returned and the celebra tion has been deafening.
Make no mistake about it, Dwight Gooden has come a long way over the past two years since he hit his personal bottom and was finally moved to join Alcoholics Anonymous. He has been out of baseball nearly two seasons, and a year ago he was playing outfield on a semi-pro team in Tampa.
When he was signed by George Steinbrenner and the Yankees it looked like one more of George's attempts to pick up damaged goods for publicity purposes and then hope for a miracle. George got his miracle. In spring training most of those who watched Gooden were confident of the error of Steinbrenner's decision. Seemingly the only ones not to hold that view were Yankee GM Bob Watson and Manager Joe Torre.
After his first few starts it seemed the doubters and skeptics had been right, and the Yankees moved Gooden to the bullpen. Then David Cone went down and the decision was made to bring Gooden back from the edge of oblivion. A week after being hammered by the Minnesota Twins in the Metrodome, he pitched six shutout innings against the same team in New York. This was the beginning. Three starts later came the no-hitter against Seattle. The resurrection was dramatic and the fact that it was underlined by a no-hitter made it even moreso.
There is no denying that this is a great story, the kind of story that you want to read about and that you want kids to hear about. It is one of those role model things. But this is a story that is not over and everyone, especially Dwight Gooden, should remember that. Dwight Gooden's struggle with drugs and alcohol is not over because he threw a no-hitter. It will never be over.
In the parlance of Baseball's Injury reports Dwight Gooden is day to day and always will be. Some days are easier than others, but at any moment he can slip again and this is why AA has him paired with a sponsor who he can call on at any time of need day or night, and who he calls each day to report his condition and discuss his progress.
So a caution to those who would celebrate too loudly, who might assume that the battle is over, that somehow the Dwight Gooden story has ended in triumph. What has happened to Gooden is that he has made it past several more days without slipping back into his drug and alcohol dependency. Each of those days is cause for joy as well as a call to further struggle.
In his baseball life he has also come across what is truly an amazing distance. At this stage it might be easy to forget that you are only as good as your last start, and you can lose it without warning, as the Steve Blass story illustrated so well.
So in celebrating Gooden's no-hitter of last week it would be wise to celebrate the moment because he is pitching well, but it is more important to quietly celebrate with him each day that he can continue to triumph over his dependency. Remember also that he is one of hundreds of thousands of Americans who are in the same struggle each and every day of their lives. One hopes that Gooden both inspires, and is inspired, by them.
On Sport and Society this is Dick Crepeau reminding you that you don't have to be a good sport to be a bad loser.

SPORT AND SOCIETY--BROADCAST OF FRIDAY MAY 17, 1996
ON WUCF-FM 89.9



It has been the strangest and wackiest several weeks in memory in the world of sport. Lawrence Taylor is busted for cocaine, Marge Schott shoots from the mouth like an AK 47 in heat, Brett Butler is diagnosed with cancer, David Cone has surgery for an aneurysm in his shoulder, Magic Johnson retires again, and it just goes on and on and on.
Somewhere in the midst of this blizzard of the bizarre two milestones were reached in American sport and culture. Both tell us something about our past and our present, and perhaps even something of our future.
Last week came the announcement that the State High School athletic authorities of Indiana, the Vatican of basketball, had done the unthinkable. The open state high school basketball tournament has been ended, and now Indiana will have its tournaments by classification based on school size. No longer will it be possible for a team like Milan to come from the backwaters to claim the state title. "Hoosiers" is dead.
In 1954 Milan, a town of 1,700 people with a high school of 161 students defeated a school of 2,200 students from Muncie for the title. It was a story that became the basis for the 1986 film. Now only three states remain where the spectacle of David whacking Goliath is still possible in high school basketball: Deleware, Hawaii, and Kentucky.
I remember in the early 60s when Edgerton, a small town in southwestern Minnesota, sent its basketball team to the state tournament. Edgerton High had something less than 20 boys in its school and nearly all of them played basketball. I sat in total disbelief at Williams Arena watching them easily handle one of the major suburban Lake Conference schools on their way to the State title. It was a magical run and captured the imagination of the entire state.
There were other years and other Edgertons, just as there have been other Milans in Indiana. This in fact was part of the great charm of the state high school tournament, a playdown of all the public high schools in the state with the final eight coming to the big city in late March. This is the American story of the underdog; the little guy reaching out and dropping the giant. It is the American story of the rural hayseeds come to the city and thumping the city-slickers at their own game. It is the story of slow white farm boys teaching the virtues of team discipline to smooth black kids from the ghettoes who play the city game.
Now that story is vanishing in a world where boxing has ten thousand divisions and weight classes, sports programs in college are classified by wealth, and high schools find it necessary to set up classifications by size so that more high school students can feel better about themselves and more students can be champions, while our dreams and fantasies are diminished. The possibilities have been increased and decreased at the same time.
Another American story ended two weeks earlier with the death of Jimmy the Greek Synder. I have always liked the Greek because to me he was one of the best living examples of someone who was able to take almost nothing, and parlay it into a career. He was proof positive that you could become rich and famous in America for no apparent reason, a version of the American Dream.
The Greek died in Las Vegas, as he should have, and was buried in Stubenville, Ohio, where he began his career dealing craps. He was a connoisseur of the track and the gaming tables, a gambler and oddsmaker, who somehow arrived with professional football in broadcast journalism on CBS.
Synder first established his fame as a gambler when he defied the experts in 1948 and picked Truman over Dewey and made a few dollars in the process. The Greek heard too many people, especially women, saying that they would never vote for a man with a mustache as president. This first established him as a prognosticator of some prowess, but later as the audience for professional football grew, especially on television, the Greek and CBS recognized that someone who could pick the games should have a role on the broadcasts.
Having started there, his role expanded as rumor monger and insider who had that vital information that every good weekend gambler needed. He was just past the top of his popularity when he tried to become an expert on racial theory and sport, and did so in front of a microphone. His knowledge of both physiology and history were appalling, and his career came to a screeching halt in 1988 as CBS fired him in a less than courageous act of damage control.
His career was emblematic of two truths about American life: You don't have to have any particular talent to get rich; and sport and gambling are eternally and inextricably linked. Now he too is gone, but his career will continue to inspire as long as someone is willing to take or give the points.
On Sport and Society this is Dick Crepeau reminding you that you don't have to be a good sport to be a bad loser.

SPORT AND SOCIETY--BROADCAST OF FRIDAY MAY 10, 1996
ON WUCF-FM 89.9



I picked up the newspaper last weekend and saw on the front page under the headline, "New Welfare Era Dawning," two related stories. The first was about welfare reform. Florida's welfare-to-work bill was just passed by the State Legislature. The bill will require the 170,000 parents on Florida's welfare rolls to find jobs, and will limit, to four years, the time that anyone can receive medical benefits, subsidies for children, and other dependency-creating luxuries so generously supplied by the state over the years.
The legislature is sending a clear message with its actions: no more welfare and get to work. It is estimated that this bill will save the State of Florida some $50M in the very first year. What to do with savings?
The second story concerned a jobs creation bill, which contained a provision that the Orlando Magic and the Miami Heat will receive a $2M-a-year sales tax rebate which will go on for 30 years, not four, and will be given to the cities. But what about Florida's other sports franchises? What about their subsidy? Aren't they deserving as well? Not to worry, they already have the sales tax subsidy by virtue of earlier legislation. This injustice suffered so long by the Magic and Orlando, and by Miami, is over at last.
This is all made to sound oh so much kinder and gentler by saying that the Magic want the money used to expand seating, parking or food concessions at the O-rena. You can bet it will not be the parking, as it is the only one of three that the Magic would not profit from directly. No one has suggested that the Magic and other sports franchises in Florida might finance some of these further capital investments, which will generate more profit for themselves, out of their own profits.
One local Republican, Sen. John Ostalkiewicz, tried to insert a proviso into the bill that if one of these teams left their current counties in the next fifty years they would be required to return the subsidies, stating the obvious, that in the day of welfare reform this is more welfare for the rich. He pointed out that some of these team owners even try to extort further concessions from their localities by threatening to move. What he did not point out is that this bill could create an unhealthy depend ency by these millionaires and billionaires on state welfare payments.
Sen. Kenneth Jenne, Democrat of Fort Lauderdale, called for a study to see if perhaps state and local government were giving away too much. Why he would think such a thing was apparently beyond the ability of his colleagues to fathom. Afterall it has become an axiom that no price is too high to pay for a city to become major league, no extortion too naked to be opposed and risk the loss of a major league franchise. What really matters is whose welfare you are reforming.
Two days earlier the same newspaper reported in its Business Section that Financial World magazine estimated that the value of the Orlando Magic has increased by 21% this past year, and that the local money machine was worth $122M, up from $101M in 1995. Of the eight professional franchises in the State, only two have decreased in value over the past year, both in hockey, although with both making the playoffs this year that is likely to change.
The most valuable franchises are the three NFL teams. Jacksonville is worth $145M, the lowly Bucs $164M, and the Dolphins $214M. Miami is the second most valuable sports franchise in the United States, and their value increased by 15% over the past year. Indeed it is difficult looking at these figures to understand the need for sales tax subsidies from the state of Florida to the tune of $16M per year.
But then why get all worked up over such small potatoes as a few million dollars in subsidies, when in fact sports franchises are already raking off much much more than that in other tax breaks, sweetheart facilities rental agreements, control of stadia, and other assorted and creative forms of subsidy and public ripoffs at the local, state and national level? Would anyone really think that the $2M might be better spent on the 30 child-abuse investigators who will be let go by the state? Think about that the next time you hear about a child-abuse case in which the victim was not removed from the home quick enough by state investigators.
But better to look at the good news. The day of welfare dependency in Florida is dead, and this bold and courageous action against the powerless will save the state millions. Now that this is taken care of, the legislature can move to address the issue of sports franchise dependency, a serious addiction that seems to have hooked politicians and citizens all across the land especially the rich and powerful. This would truly be the dawning of a new era, addressing welfare for the rich and powerful as well as the poor and powerless.
On Sport and Society this is Dick Crepeau reminding you that you don't have to be a good sport to be a bad loser.

SPORT AND SOCIETY--BROADCAST OF FRIDAY MAY 3, 1996
ON WUCF-FM 89.9



Isaac Murphy is not a name commonly known in American Sport, and even among those who follow horse-racing it is not likely to evoke wide recognition. But on this day before the Kentucky Derby it might be worth recalling the career of Isaac Murphy because he was one of the greatest jockeys in the history of the event and one of the greatest jockeys in racing history. Murphy was one of many African-Americans who played a major role in horse-racing in the United States until early in the Twentieth Century when African-Americans were systematically removed from the sport.
This is one of those stories in the History of Sport that perfectly parallels developments in the History of the United States, and it is a story worth recalling as the debate over affirmative action is again intensifying.
Born Isaac Burns in 1861 in Kentucky, Isaac Murphy took on the name of his grandfather, Green Murphy, shortly after he began working as a jockey. Because Murphy was small of stature he was apprenticed as a jockey in 1873, and he rode his first mount competitively in 1875, the same year he rode his first Kentucky Derby.
Within five years Isaac Murphy was at the top of his profession, and he dominated the sport through the decade of the Eighties. He rode every great horse in America, won every major race except the Futurity, and was the first jockey to win three Kentucky Derbies. He won the famous Latonia Derby five times, and qualified for the winner's circle at the American Derby four times. Most remarkable of all he had a career winning record of forty-four percent, riding winners in 628 of his 1,412 races.
During his best years Murphy was earning between $15,000 and $20,000 a year, while the other top jockeys were making about $5,000. With his wealth Murphy invested in real estate in Lexington and Chicago, and developed his own stable of horses. He was considered a gentleman, and was highly regarded in racing circles not only for his talent, but for his impeccable honesty, in a profession that was notorious as a haunt of gamblers and fixers.
After 1890 Isaac Murphy's career took a dramatic turn downwards, and by 1893 he was out of racing altogether. Murphy suffered from bad health resulting from the rigors of maintaining his weight, and there were rumors of drinking problems, which he denied.
Although these factors may have played some part, what was happening to Isaac Murphy was part of a larger pattern of change, not just in racing or sport, but in American society generally. By the 1890's white Americans were turning increasingly to segregation, systematically driving African-Americans out of many lucrative occupations.
The Nineties was a decade of intense racial hostility and violence by whites toward blacks, a development that came out of the economic problems and the politics of the period. The turmoil of Southern politics led to a rapid growth of racial segregation and economic warfare.
From the beginning of organized horse-racing in the South, the slave population dominated the position of jockey. The horse was considered much more important than the jockey, who was simply chosen from stable attendants, trainers, and exercise boys. Jockeys were seldom even mentioned when discussing racing. The dominance that had begun in the slave quarters, carried over into freedom through the end of the 19th century. At the first Kentucky Derby in 1875 fourteen of the fifteen jockeys were African-Americans, including the winner, Oliver Lewis. African-American jockeys won 13 of the first 27 Kentucky Derbies.
But as the nouveau riche entered racing in the '80s and '90s they began to closely examine all aspects of the sport, and became concerned about the jockey. Also money paid to jockeys was increasing, and whites were correspondingly attracted to this occupation. The movement of whites into the field, combined with the growing appeal of Anglo-Saxon racial superiority, led to the systematic removal of African-Americans from their dominant position in racing.
By the mid-'90s Boards of Control were being created to regulate the sport, and Jockey Clubs were formed to control the riders. The result was the licensing of jockeys and the denial of licences to African-Americans. The last African-American rode in the Kentucky Derby in 1911.
Isaac Murphy did not live to see this, as he died in 1896. In recent years a monument has been placed at Churchill Downs to commemorate his achievements, but this has not changed the numbers of African-Africans working as jockeys. As the debate overaffirmative action continues it should be remembered that African-Americans were systematically excluded from many occupations and professions by those who coveted their jobs and grasped power. Not because they lacked talent.
On Sport and Society this is Dick Crepeau reminding you that you don't have to be a good sport to be a bad loser.

SPORT AND SOCIETY--BROADCAST OF FRIDAY APRIL 26, 1996
ON WUCF-FM 89.9



The gentleman was in is early thirties and wore a black t-shirt with "House of Babes" printed across the front. On the back were three less than virginal looking cartoon bikini babes accentuated by interesting words like "nasty" and "feisty." He was sitting in the front row at the Orlando Arena. It was not a M agic game.
I searched in vain for anyone wearing a suit looking well pressed and armed with a cellular phone. My guess is that there was not a doctor or lawyer on the premises. Indeed there was not a single member of the Orlando establishment to be found.
Finally between periods out in the concession area I spotted two young men in suits, but they looked out of sync with their large shoulders, big necks, and long stringy wet-looking hair. Two farm boys from Canada who obviously had been scratched that night were in the stands instead of on the ice, looking a lot like Barry Melrose.
The hockey crowd will never be mistaken for the basketball crowd. The contrast is striking and speaks to a very different in-house cliental for the O-rena's two professional sports franchises. No doubt part of the difference can be explained by economics. Magic tickets at center-court run nearly three times higher than Solar Bear tickets at center-ice. But it is more than economics.
The Magic crowd is actually two crowds, as Greg Dawson pointed out earlier this season. Downstairs is the cellular phone, power tie, Armani suit, and local establishment crowd. Doctors, lawyers, bankers, middle-level managers, politicians, celebrities, Disney execs, and Amway slicks, make up the bulk of the lower bowl elite for whom the season tickets are a major tax write off or a significant gratuity. Every piece of clothing is tasteful and fashionable, every piece of hair is perfectly coiffed. These are Orlando's version of the beautiful people, in attendance to be seen, rather than to see.
In the upper bowl are those who own pieces of season tickets, have no power connections, but still represent the well-healed and/or yuppie pretenders of the American middle class. Fewer suits and more Magic paraphernalia are in evidence, and some would claim more interest and enthusiasm for the game itself. A great deal of coaching and refereeing goes on upstairs, and that is punctuated by the mad scramble to catch a free t-shirt as it sails up from the court.
The hockey crowd is quite different. Most of it is in the lower bowl. There are always some people up top and they tend to be the young and very enthusiastic. They scream quite a lot, wear Solar Bear paraphernalia, and jump up and down holding unoriginal signs. Downstairs there is an interesting mix of people. Mostly they are middle age northern transplants, families with young children who look like they might have some acquaintance with the ice, and young working-class males and their girl-friends too many of whom look like they just stepped off the set of a daytime TV soap, or are on their way to a GAP rally.
The faces and accents in this crowd are midwest and northeast. They are a tribute to Orlando as the transplant capital of the Southeast. Boston, New York, New Jersey (any exit), Philly, Cleveland, Cincinnati, Chicago, and Detroit. Scattered through the crowd are Blackhawk, Red Wing, Bruin, and Ranger sweaters. These are a sign of previous loyalties and are a mark of status. They announce that you are someone who actually knows the difference between offside and an offside pass; someone who will not try to start the wave during a Solar Bear power play.
Given the fact that both the Magic and the Solar Bears are owned by the same pyramid, it is not surprising that game production is similar. The announcer is too loud, the immediate pregame pageantry is too long and too loud, the music is too loud and annoying. Why is this seen as something people want? Who besides those under twelve actually enjoy this noise?
Two things make the Solar Bears' production more tolerable. Paul Porter is not at the hockey games, and music is not played during the action.
For hockey the "Sports Magic Team" becomes the "Ice Breakers" and they are simply annoying on ice. There are stoppages of play during the hockey game to run silly contests like "dance for your dinner," while at Magic games this brainless activity is confined to timeouts. And Shades couldn't carry Stuff's whoopi cushion.
At hockey games fans are not allowed to move up and down the aisles, and in and out of seats, expect during a pause in the action. The Magic should give this one a try.
Best of all the Solar Bear crowd is not yet jaded by success, ready to shout obscenities when someone on the home team blunders. At hockey games they simply prefer mayhem.
On Sport and Society this is Dick Crepeau reminding you that you don't have to be a good sport to be a bad loser.