War OF THE Words : KMPC and XTRA Are All Talk--Sports Talk, That Is--as They Battle for the All-Important Male Listener, Age 25-54

Here is the general rule of thumb regarding radio talk-show wars: When everybody concerned says they couldn’t care less about the other station--Bingo!--you have a genuine airwave brouhaha on your hands.

Which brings us to San Diego-based XTRA (690 AM) and Los Angeles-based KMPC (710 AM), stations undergoing serious denial.

“We don’t need to look to anybody else to show us what to do,” said Howard Freedman, vice president of programming for Noble Broadcasting Group, XTRA’s parent company.

“Hey, I’m glad that they’re here,” KMPC programming director Len Weiner said of XTRA. “They’re proving that there’s a market for it.”

Don’t believe a word of it. If everyone is so chummy, then why does KMPC bill itself as itself as “the only game in town” and admonish listeners not to spend “extra” time--get it? XTRA time?--searching for the best sports talk show? And why does one KMPC host always call XTRA “that Baja station?”

Why does XTRA continue to keep a midday host in Los Angeles if it doesn’t hope to one day dominate the entire Southern California market? Why is there talk that XTRA might increase its wattage from 50,000 to who knows what? Why does Freedman make it a point to detail KMPC’s shortcomings?

That’s easy. Like it or not, there’s a sports-talk war out there. Presenting a glimpse of a day’s worth of skirmishes:

A DAY AT KMPC

It’s a Long Night for Wallin, Who Is Followed by a Bad Morgan. Christensen Gets Sesquipedalian, and Lampley Loves Callers Desperately

MAY 29

(12:30 a.m.-5:30 a.m.: “The Fred Wallin Show”

2:50 a.m.--Not again . . .

Another misguided caller wants to talk about the rumored deal involving the Lakers and their supposed attempt to trade James Worthy for the Washington Bullets’ No. 6 pick, which probably will be Maryland guard Walt Williams.

For the umpteenth time, Wallin agrees that this would be a wonderful trade for the Lakers. Too bad it will never happen.

3:16 a.m.--Wallin is dying for a decent call. His proposed topics: Eliminate smoking in outdoor stadiums? Mandatory and voluntary drug testing--yea or nay?

4:41 a.m.--Tom from Torrance is on the line. That’s what switchboard operator Mike Johnson calls him, Tom from Torrance. Tom from Torrance likes to call and jerk everyone’s chain.

Here in the wee hours, Tom from Torrance is on hold. At least, that’s who Johnson thinks it is.

“Fred, I don’t know about Line 4,” Johnson says to Wallin on the studio intercom system.

Johnson, who spends 5 1/2 hours each morning screening calls in a glass enclosure the size of a parking-lot pay booth, is worried about an on-air prank. As if anyone is listening.

Anyway, the guy on Line 4 has an Oriental accent, says his name is “Hasheen” and wants to talk about Japanese pro baseball.

“Ask him where Johnny Ray plays,” Wallin says during a commercial break. Ray is a former major leaguer now playing in Japan.

Johnson asks. Hasheen doesn’t know the answer. Instead, Hasheen inquires about the whereabouts of Sadaharu Oh.

4:48 a.m.--Hasheen gets on the air.

Potential crank caller or not, Hasheen, or whoever he is, fits the graveyard-shift profile: 1) He can talk. 2) He can fill air time. 3) He’s the only caller Wallin’s got.

Hasheen babbles politely about Sadaharu Oh and then tells Wallin, “Thank you for the information.”

Johnson shrugs at call’s end.

5:08 a.m.--Graham Agars, a snooty-sounding Brit retained by KMPC to provide updates of the French Open in Paris, is waxing poetic about something. Meanwhile, a light flickers on Johnson’s switchboard. A caller! A caller!

“KMPC . . . do you have a question or comment for Fred?” Johnson says.

You bet he does. He wants to talk hockey. At 5:08 in the morning, someone in Los Angeles wants to talk hockey.

Johnson happily types the caller’s name and subject on a computer screen. Inside the studio, Wallin receives the message on a nearby monitor.

Johnson leans back in his chair. It has been a long shift, made longer by the lack of callers. From 4 to 5:30 each morning . . . practically nothing.

Now this, a live voice. A hockey voice.

Someone mutters, “Get a life.”

Johnson, thrilled by the call, disagrees.

“Hey, I’m glad they don’t have a life,” Johnson says.

5:54 a.m.--Robert W. Morgan hurries to the studio. Eleven minutes remain until he begins his four-hour show.

“I’m not a talk-show host,” he says as he leaves his windowless office, “I’m a disc jockey who talks too much.”

Not about sports, he doesn’t. KMPC advertises itself as a 24-hour sports station, but you wouldn’t know it by listening to Morgan’s show. In truth, Morgan’s program is about Morgan’s favorite subject: himself. Everything else, including sports, is conveniently ignored.

No one at KMPC seems to mind. That’s because Morgan’s ratings are good and advertisers are giddy with satisfaction.

6 a.m.-10 a.m.

“The Robert W. Morgan Show”

6:57 a.m.--Morgan sips coffee from a San Francisco 49er mug and lights another cigarette. On the wall a few feet away is a sign that details Los Angeles County Municipal Code 41.50: No Smoking.

Since the show’s beginning, Morgan has played a Jerry Reed song, bet sidekick Scott St. James $100 that Dist. Atty. Ira Reiner will win the coming election, promised to draw at least 40,000 fans to Anaheim Stadium if the Angels agree to a “Robert W. Morgan Night,” asked callers to vote on the better looking broadcaster--Morgan or KMPC sports talk-show host Jim Lampley, interviewed national spelling bee champion Amanda Goad, chastised Agars for not saying, “Good Morgan,” when he called, said Republican presidential candidate Patrick Buchanan would be on the program, yelled at beleaguered producer Mitch Lewis and lied to his listeners.

The problem is this: In the morning paper, Times radio-television columnist Larry Stewart has suggested that a feud exists between Morgan and Lampley. Rather than acknowledge the story, Morgan tells callers he hasn’t read the column (he has). Then he contrives the silly contest involving Lampley.

7:37 a.m.--Reiner calls. No political dummy, Reiner takes advantage of the free, 11-minute opportunity to brag about his office’s accomplishments. St. James, not Morgan, asks the toughest question: Considering his recent record, does Reiner deserve to be reelected?

8:40 a.m.--Bob Wagner, Angel marketing director, tells Morgan that his request has been approved. Morgan predicts the “Good Morgan Team” will attract more than 43,000 fans for the June 19 game at Anaheim Stadium.

Actually, it is the closest thing to sports talk since the show began.

9:16 a.m.--A caller tells Morgan to play more music.

9:55 a.m.--Morgan signs off as a Diana Ross song plays in the background. This done, he pats Lewis on the back and then disappears down the hallway.

Buchanan never appears on the show.

10 a.m.-1:30 p.m.

“The Todd Christensen Show”

10:09 a.m.--Former Raider tight end Todd Christensen steps into the studio, plunks himself down on a chair and starts singing his signature “Top Cat” theme. Technical director Lew Stowers shakes his head sadly and then glances at the television set. “Bonanza” is on.

The talk turns quickly to the Portland Trail Blazers and their quest for an NBA championship. Christensen, who is working alone after a three-week stint with Joe McDonnell, dismisses their chances.

“They have the collective IQ of an after-dinner mint,” he says.

The switchboard lights up.

11:11 a.m.--Todd Thesaurus is at it again. In his quest to make greater Los Angeles safe for the Sunday crossword puzzle, Christensen manages to use fruition, kudos, deportment, plethora and sesquipedalian into working sentences. You can almost hear his listeners’ response: “Huh?”

Listener hint-- sesquipedalian means, among other things, “using, or characterized by the use of, long words.”

Of course.

11:32 a.m.--Christensen, eager to talk to a Minnesota Viking beat reporter about the team’s decision to release running back Herschel Walker, gets his wish. On the line, he says to his listeners, is “Ray Richards,” of the St. Paul Pioneer Press.

Uh, Todd, it’s Richard- son .

Richardson doesn’t seem to mind the error. He’s too busy explaining why Walker was considered an outcast by teammates. Among the reasons: his love of martial arts.

“He’s a karate man,” Richardson says.

Christensen rolls his eyes.

11:50 a.m.--With no reference materials in front of him, Christensen launches into a fact-filled discussion of NHL topics and teams.

Then he switches subjects and discusses the plight of Butch Reynolds, the 400-meter world record-holder who is fighting a two-year drug suspension. Christensen clicks off all sorts of victory times for the former Ohio State star. Each one is absolutely correct. We checked.

12:29 p.m.--Pepperdine baseball Coach Andy Lopez is contacted at the College World Series in Omaha, Neb. Unfamiliar with the team, Christensen hurriedly grabs a nearby sports section and uses it as a cheat sheet. Lopez doesn’t suspect a thing.

12:45 p.m.--As commercials play, Christensen opens up a packet of some sort of granola mix and loads up with a handful of the stuff. At that exact moment, Stowers realizes that a terrible mistake has been made.

Christensen, mouth full of who-knows-what, is supposed to read a car ad . . . now!

He spits out the nature food and begins reading.

12:46 p.m.--Texas Ranger infielder Dickie Thon is a guest. Christensen is helpless when Thon uses a plethora of cliches to describe the Rangers’ pennant chances.

1:10 p.m.--To save the show from complete boredom, Christensen enlists the help of former U.S. Olympic high jumper Dwight Stones. Stones and Christensen immediately question the motivation behind Al Joyner’s decision to no longer train for a spot on the U.S. Olympic team as a triple jumper. Joyner has said the mental strain caused by recent incidents of alleged police harassment was the main reason.

Christensen and Stones don’t dispute Joyner’s claim of harassment, but do remind listeners that Joyner wasn’t likely to make the team anyway.

Stones follows this by predicting a medal windfall for the U.S. track and field team in Barcelona. After trading several verbal backslaps, the interview is complete.

(Less than 20 minutes later, so is Christensen’s reign as a solo artist. The next week Joe McDonnell rejoins Christensen in the studio. The awkward reunion lasts four days. On the fifth day, McDonnell tells listeners that Christensen is “caught in traffic.” Later, he informs them that Christensen is “ill.”

If anything, he was sick of KMPC. Weary of being away from his family and not entirely thrilled with the radio experience, Christensen resigned and returned home to Alpine, Utah.)

1:30 p.m.-5:30 p.m.

“The Jim Lampley Show”

1:36 p.m.--Preceded by the worst theme song in sports-talk history (“Let’s get seeeer-ious. . . .”), Jim Lampley makes his studio entrance. His opening remarks, which last a full minute or so, contain not a single “uh,” stutter or stammer. It is an impressive performance by the former ABC network sports whiz kid who recently fell from grace as a KCBS news anchor.

His menu of topics presented, Lampley waits for the phones to ring. Nothing.

2:39 p.m.--Someone from Mar Vista is calling. He has a question.

“Yeah, about Michael Tuck . . . is that a name they gave him at a modeling agency?”

Tuck, who is reported to have helped hasten Lampley’s departure at KCBS, is the TV station’s co-anchor. His partner is none other than Bree Walker, who happens to be Lampley’s wife (are you following this?).

Lampley politely tells the caller to contact Tuck for such information.

2:48 p.m.--Lampley interviews Cleveland Indian rookie pitcher Denis Boucher. Boucher is a little too breathless about the hapless Indians’ chances this year, causing Lampley to observe: “Clearly you’re headed to the division championship.”

Next up is a caller from New York, who drones on about the Mets/Yankees/Rangers/Islanders /Knicks/Nets/Giants/Jets. Lampley humors him and at call’s end, says, “Love you desperately.”

2:56 p.m.--Harry from Compton calls. “And we love him desperately,” Lampley says.

During a commercial break, Lampley says he wants to be, “up to an acceptable point, the Howard Stern of sports-talk radio. I’m always thinking how to turn it inside out.”

KMPC management wouldn’t mind. It needs Lampley to make an impact in the afternoon drive-time period, to say nothing of providing a strong lead-in for “The Jim Healy Show” and Angel baseball broadcasts and related programs (for example, a baseball call-in show featuring Steve Yeager and Geoff Witcher), which dominate the station’s evening schedule during the summer months.

3:10 p.m.--Say what you will about Lampley, the man knows his boxing. His interview with Donald Turner, Larry Holmes’ trainer, is a sparring session in itself. Turner is reluctant to answer many questions, but eventually reduces the coming fight between Holmes and heavyweight champion Evander Holyfield to a simple point: Holmes will win because Holyfield is too light.

3:37 p.m.--Uh-oh. Lampley is reading a newspaper. He should be reading an ad for a Beverly Hills car dealership.

Producer Todd Fritz jiggles the copy sheet to get Lampley’s attention. Lampley drops the newspaper, grabs the copy sheet and begins talking.

4:09 p.m.--Lampley advises listeners to turn the radio dial to XTRA if they’re interested in Plan B signings and other such mundane subjects. That’s because it’s time for the “Let’s Get Serious Comic Segment,” which features studio guest Jim Edwards, who happens to be the brother of Jeff Smulyan, soon-to-be former owner of the Seattle Mariners.

Put it this way: Plan B signings are funnier than the comic segment. In fairness, Edwards does a great KABC Michael Jackson imitation.

5:09 p.m.--Charger Coach Bobby Ross is on the line. No real news about the Chargers, but Ross does say he couldn’t be happier about the weather in Southern California.

Says Lampley: “Bobby, you’ve got 24-hour sports radio in San Diego and 24-hour sports radio in Los Angeles. Win or lose, we promise to drive you nuts.”