Beware of the ‘Hazzards’ Involved

Atlanta, city of the big cola. Atlanta, a nice place to fly into, even if you live there. Atlanta, citadel of southern comfort. Atlanta, the town from which Ted Turner adds Technicolor to our otherwise drab and dreary lives.

Atlanta, land of last-place teams. Atlanta, where “Bob” is a middle name. Atlanta, a stone’s throw from Stone Mountain, a gust of wind from Augusta, a breath of fresh air betwixt Rome and Athens.

Atlanta, home of fishin’ holes and frog-giggin’ poles. Atlanta, kissin’ cousin to Andy Griffith and Andy Young, kin once to Rhett Butler and Brett Butler, friend of James Earl Carter and enemy of James Earl Ray.

Atlanta, one of two answers to the question, “What’s the capital of Georgia?”--the other being: “Oh, about a hundred bucks.” Atlanta, a city you can burn, but can’t keep down.

Yes, Atlanta, the envy of the civilized world today, home to the 1996 Olympic Games.

Atlanta???

Did you say Atlanta?

Hey, Vern! Y’all pullin’ mah leg here or whut?

No, America, it’s true. Everybody is grinning this morning in the land of the free and the home of the Braves. Everybody in Atlanta today has a Coke and a smile. Everybody in Dixie tonight will be in his or her cups. Believe it or not, Georgia got the Olympics! Makes the fuzz stand right up on your peach.

Bet they were honking their car horns all day long Tuesday, on their way back across the Florida border after buying those lottery tickets.

I mean, talk about your goodwill games. Even as we speak, Ted Turner must be negotiating for the rights to beam the ’96 telecast off satellites from Savannah, Ga., to Soviet Georgia. He will want to colorize the less colorful competition by painting the equestrian-event horses orange and purple, and to formally request that Jane Fonda be permitted to jog up the stairway to the Olympic caldron carrying the torch, accompanied by six pudgy men and six pregnant women wearing leotards.

Ah, the Atlanta Olympics.

What a coup for the land of loose collars and Lewis Grizzard. I can see it now: “And the gold medal in the 10,000-meter stock-car competition goes to Goh Wun Way of the Republic of South Korea, drivin’ a ’95 Hyundai with a rebuilt camshaft! Y’all give the boy a nice hand!”

Nobody gave Atlanta a ghost of a chance a year ago. Athens (the one in Greece, not the one in the Southeast Conference) was clearly the sentimental favorite. Now, every American city from El Paso to El Segundo is sorry it never made a bid. Hey, if Atlanta can do it, Newark probably stood a chance.

Obviously, the International Olympic Committee longed for another armored car full of deflated U.S. dollars to pull up and dump another load, as it did in 1984. They will gladly accept another IOC IOU, courtesy of those big spenders from American television.

Our networks will shell out something like $300 zillion to televise the Games. How could the Greeks compete with that? Greece doesn’t even get cable. You can’t even catch “Shirley Valentine” on Athens TV. You only get old Anthony Quinn movies and Ouzo Lite ads.

OK, I admit it, I was pulling for the Greeks. I wanted the 100th anniversary Olympics to open with a ceremony with the Parthenon in the background. What do I get instead? A ceremony with the Peachtree Plaza in the background.

I dreamed of vacationing on Corfu, contemplating an Ionian sky. What do I get instead? Two weeks in Fulton County, U.S.A., two days of which will be spent trudging from one terminal to the next at Hartsfield Airport.

Well, I can’t say I’m not happy for the hard-working people of Atlanta. They really went after this. They pitched, they planned, they pleaded and they cocktail-partied. They brought civic pride to the IOC pow-wow in Tokyo and came home with one of the biggest plums any Eastern city has ever plucked.

And now, Atlantans have six years of even harder work cut out for them, a workload anyone from greater metropolitan Los Angeles can comprehend.

Yet if ever a population was ready, it ought to be this one. Look up “Atlantean” in your dictionary. I did in mine. The definition in mine reads: “Of, pertaining to, or like Atlas.”

From the home of the 1932 and 1984 Olympics, nice going, Atlanta, and good luck.

Now, 10 quick suggestions:

1. Deputy Dawg as mascot is not a good idea.

2. If Augusta wants to host something, be sure to tell them to let black people compete.

3. Tell Jerry Glanville: “Sorry, no synchronized-swimming tickets for Elvis.”

4. No Coke! Pepsi! Pepsi! Pepsi!

5. Yes, let NBA players play the Soviets. But not many Atlanta Hawk players.

6. Offer guided tours to the suburb owned by Kim Basinger.

7. Don’t let the public-address announcer applaud French victories by saying: “How ‘bout them Frawgs!”

8. Calm down. Hockey is in the Winter Olympics.

9. Explain grits to foreigners, particularly Norwegians who will try to order it with sardines.

10. Keep Larry King away from talent and swimsuit competition.