MORE TREMORS IN SAN FRANCISCO
The University of San Francisco, twice put on probation by the NCAA in recent years for recruiting and other violations in its basketball program, is getting set for another shock. The school is conducting its own investigation of new charges, one of which is that Quintin Dailey, the star guard who was given three years' probation by San Francisco Superior Court Judge Edward Stern on June 25 after pleading guilty to aggravated assault on a coed and has since been drafted by the Chicago Bulls, got $1,000 a month last summer for a no-show job with Electric Supply of Salinas, Calif. The firm is owned by J. Luis Zabala, a former president of the Century Club, a USF booster group.
In an interview with SI last week, Dailey said he had, in fact, received about $5,000 in checks from Zabala's company, for which he had done no work. He also implicated Basketball Coach Pete Barry in one of the Zabala payments. Barry became the USF coach in 1980 after Dan Belluomini was forced to resign because of recruiting violations. Dailey said that just before Christmas in 1980 he told Barry that he, Dailey, was behind in his car payments. Shortly afterward, he got a check for $1,000 from Electric Supply. Dailey said he received similar checks for another $3,000 last summer, which he used to pay bills at Macy's California, Montgomery Ward and Pacific Stereo, among other stores. Dailey said he was the recipient of another $1,000 from Zabala's firm this past Christmas. On another occasion, Dailey said, he got $200 in cash in an envelope from Barry "because I needed some money for a Hertz Rent A Car bill" that his brothers had run up in his name.
When Barry was asked if he had ever given any USF players money or served as a conduit for money, he at first refused to comment because the university was investigating, but he later denied that he ever had. When Zabala was asked if he had given Dailey $5,000, he said $5,000 was "not an accurate figure." He made light of the charge by saying, "I've heard everything from $30,000 to $5,000. At least they're coming down. I have cooperated with the University. I've told them everything I know and it's up to the University to release the information. This is no big deal when you've seen what's going on all over the country."
July 25, 1982
"On your mark, get set, go slow," commanded the starter of the First Annual Good Ol' Boys No-Run Run in Scottsboro, Ala. on July 4, and the first wave of bodies meandered off. The non-runners loafed in the heats, but small wonder, seeing as how each was a full 10,000—10,000 millimeters (about 33 feet).
Dedicated to Calvin Coolidge, who said, "I do not choose to run," the race was inspired by The Non-Runners' Book. Any of the 300 participants who came in running shoes had to abandon them at the start, but other "aids," like bringing a wheelbarrow to push down the course, were perfectly acceptable.
One "competitor" wore a bowling ball tied to his belt in case he got the urge to run. Others carried lounge chairs along the route. When they tired, they would set a spell and chat. One man said he couldn't go on any longer and passed out in the 97° heat; the race veterinarian attributed his collapse to hoof-in-mouth disease. Another man lost his way.
The winners of each heat, who were urged to amble across the finish line, within an hour or so, were escorted to the winners' rectangle—a hammock. It resembled the official race logo, which showed a man in a hammock with a TV set on his stomach and lemonade by his side.
The grand prize (parking for the Knoxville World's Fair in a lot 180 miles from the fairgrounds) winner never found his way into the hammock. An unsuspecting Bill Clopton, who was home in Houston, won by proxy when an anonymous volunteer dawdled for three hours in his name. A confused loser traversed the course in an embarrassingly fast 42 seconds.
The race was held on a site adjacent to Scottsboro's Peachtree Street, whose Atlanta namesake is the site of a more famous July 4 10,000, the Peachtree Road Race. For the 2nd Annual No-Run Run, will Scottsboro go big time and mark off the course on Peachtree itself? Relax, says Mary Ann Cromeans, the race coordinator. "Peachtree is uphill all the way. It would be totally too much exertion."
The starting lineups selected by the fans for last week's All-Star Game did nothing to refute the charge that the balloting has become simply a popularity contest since the vote was returned to the public in 1970. But is there a better system? From 1958 until '70, the teams were picked by players, managers and coaches, which left none of the fun for the fans. Perhaps the best method was the one used from 1947 until 1956, when the fan balloting seemed to result in just the right lineups year after year.
However, now comes the revelation from former Chicago Tribune sportswriter Richard Dozer, now of The Phoenix Gazette, that for those nine golden years the fans' preferences had little or nothing to do with the composition of All-Star teams. In those days, the Tribune and cooperating papers in other cities printed ballots which were clipped, marked and mailed by the nation's baseball fans to the Tribune, whose sports editor, Arch Ward, conceived the game back in 1933 as an adjunct to the Chicago World's Fair. There they would sit—for the most part, unopened—in stacked cartons and bales, while a staffer would compose exciting reports on the voting races.
"The daily accounts of Stan Musial slipping a few hundred votes ahead of Gil Hodges, Ted Williams outpolling Mickey Mantle and Al Kaline getting votes at a record pace for a rookie were...well...largely fiction," says Dozer in an expose written for the Gazette. Sometimes, it was whispered around the Trib city room, one of Ward's lieutenants would sample the ballots.
The Trib's creative tallies, writes Dozier, "were an accurate barometer of who really belonged on the All-Star team, regardless of the vote that forever will go untotaled." As for today's computerized voting system, Dozer adds, "In truth, the punch cards simply don't compare with the old finger-on-the-pulse accuracy of the...samplings out of those stacked cartons that gathered dust in Arch Ward's office."
EQUAL RIGHTS OR WRONGS?
Few people seemed to notice either the event or the irony, but on June 31, the last day of life for the Equal Rights Amendment, the Association for Intercollegiate Athletics for Women ceased to function. The AIAW, which was founded in 1971 with 280 member institutions, oversaw and helped nurture the great boom in women's collegiate sport in the '70s, which was helped by the enactment of Title IX which prohibits discrimination in schools on the basis of sex. By 1980, women's athletic budgets nationwide had risen from 1% of men's to nearly 16%. Furthermore, AIAW membership had grown to 971 colleges; the number of schools offering athletic scholarships for women had soared from fewer than 60 to more than 635; and the AIAW had created 41 national championships in 19 sports and had signed a four-year television contract with NBC.
As officers of the now-dormant AIAW see it, their organization's success was the very cause of its demise. The NCAA, which in 1976 filed a still unresolved lawsuit against the Department of Health, Education and Welfare, challenging the application of Title IX to intercollegiate athletics, now apparently feels that the revenue-producing potential of women's sports makes them desirable. "When we were making our own uniforms and raking our own fields," says Charlotte West, women's athletic director at Southern Illinois, "the NCAA didn't want us."
In 1981, however, the NCAA began to lure schools away from the AIAW by, among other enticements, providing transportation expenses to its national championship events, which the AIAW couldn't afford to do. Also, in the 1981-82 school year, the NCAA chose to schedule 16 of its 29 women's championships in direct conflict with those of the AIAW. The AIAW says that the NCAA laid out $3 million to subsidize women's championships during the past school year, just about what the AIAW spent in its first 10 years of existence. As a result, 119 member schools left the AIAW for the NCAA.
"It's like being a Safeway store and giving bread out on the street," says Margot Polivy, an attorney for the AIAW, which has filed an antitrust suit against the NCAA, scheduled to come to trial on Aug. 25. "The bakery next door says, 'We can't compete with that,' and Safeway says, 'That's competition.' "
"Really, there are no options," says West. "You can't compete unless you go NCAA." However, she cautions that with the NCAA money will come the same difficulties that have been increasingly plaguing men's programs. "Without a doubt, the NCAA recruiting rules will prove to be more costly than ours." Those rules allow paid campus visits by recruits, and more trips by recruiters. "And who'll pay? The money will have to come from other sports, forcing cutbacks there."
There will be other changes. The AIAW chose its governing board in truly open elections; the NCAA's candidates almost invariably run unopposed. The AIAW's legislative body and committees included student members; the NCAA's doesn't. And there is no guarantee that women will be able to exercise control over their own sports. "The NCAA is kind of an old-boy network," says AIAW President Merrily Dean Baker, whose organization remains incorporated but isn't operating any programs. At least one NCAA delegate, Arkansas Athletic Director Frank Broyles, concurs. He predicts that voting power for women within the NCAA will never exceed 5%. "The NCAA wants to control all of intercollegiate athletics and doesn't want another organization to compete with it," says Broyles. For a while, the AIAW did attempt to work out a compromise under which the NCAA would create autonomous divisions for men and women, but, says Baker, "The NCAA was singularly uninterested."
The AIAW has sufficient reason to feel muscled aside by the male-dominated NCAA. It remains to be seen whether women's intercollegiate athletics will come out the better or the worse for it.
America may be near the bottom of the world's class when it comes to interest in soccer, but in sports television it is "recognized around the world," as a certain network likes to claim, as No. 1. During the World Cup tournament, only one American network televised every one of the 52 games either live or on same-day tape delay. That was the Spanish International Network (SIN), headquartered in New York, which sent its telecasts to 193 affiliates serving 30 million U.S. households. Of course, many of the viewers understood ni una palabra of the Spanish commentary; nonetheless, SIN made many new amigos gringos. Soccer aficionados in Richmond, Tulsa and Seattle petitioned their local cable companies to pick up the telecasts, and many fans and TV critics agreed with the sentiments of Charlie Robins, who wrote in The Tampa Times, "I've been able to watch and enjoy the World Cup without turning the sound down, something I can't say for ABC's Monday Night Football."
One viewer in Queens, N.Y., Irish-born Martin Hamrogue, was so enraptured with SIN's coverage, he went out and bought a sample of every product that was advertised during the games—including Carta Blanca beer, Tecate beer, Presidente brandy and Barcel churritos—and sent a collage made from their labels to SIN.
Aside from the soccer action, viewers especially enjoyed the familiar commercial for Coca-Cola featuring the cute little boy and the star athlete. Only in this version, it wasn't Mean Joe Greene but Diego Maradona, the 21-year-old Argentine forward, who throws his jersey to the kid in return for a Coke as the kid says, "¬°Gracias, campeón!" To thank its viewers, SIN began rebroadcasting 37 of the 52 games last week.
Six nights had passed and the Sweep Six pool at Exhibition Park, a thoroughbred racetrack in Vancouver, British Columbia, had gone uncollected. Sweep Six is a form of wagering in which the object is to pick the winners of six consecutive races—in this case, the fourth through the ninth. Each night, after no bettors had succeeded in winning the prize, the Sweep Six pool had been carried over and added to the next night's action. By race time on July 10, the total to be won had grown to more than $2.2 million ($1.7 million U.S.). That night, a Vancouver real estate man and horse owner-breeder named Peter Wall, with a few minority investors, bought between $10,000 and $20,000 worth of $2 combinations. Sure enough, Wall hit the six winners. So did two other anonymous bettors, one of whom had laid out only $4. Each winning ticket was worth $579,129 (U.S.), which is believed to be the biggest single payoff in racing history. The best part for the winners is that Canada collects no taxes on gambling earnings.
BASEBALL CRIME RATE SOARS
A major league record for theft was set in Riverfront Stadium during the July 5 game between St. Louis and Cincinnati. On the field, four Cardinals and five Reds stole second base.
While the feat falls short of the modern major league record of 16 stolen bases set in a game between New York and Boston in 1912, there were eight additional thefts that evening: While the game was in progress, five of the Reds' lockers were burglarized and three Cardinal jerseys were pilfered.
All told, that made 17 steals, and a new major league record.
THEY SAID IT
•Pierre Trudeau, Canada's prime minister, on Canadian-American trade: "Canada is a country whose main exports are hockey players and cold fronts. Our main imports are baseball players and acid rain."
•Tom Lasorda, Dodger manager, on the World Cup: "I was really glad to see Italy win. All of the guys on the team were Italians."
•Bobby Knight, Indiana University basketball coach, addressing a banquet in Carson City, Nev.: "When I say 'start,' let's have five seconds of silence." Pause. "That's pretty good. That gives something for the news media to quote with absolute accuracy."