Too Many ‘Legends’ Out There

Recently, I started getting sick of the word legend.

There was coaching legend Vince Lombardi. Pitching legend Nolan Ryan. Auto racing legend Richard Petty. Tennis legend Bjorn Borg. Golf legend Arnold Palmer. Not to mention the legendary Michael Jackson being interviewed by the semi-legendary Oprah Winfrey with a special appearance by the legendary Elizabeth Taylor.

So, I have decided to propose a new rule.

From now on, anyone described as a legend must be immediately identifiable to 99 out of 100 people.

If you believe that virtually everyone in such a crowd would have heard of a certain person and could correctly tell you what this individual does or did, then OK, I will grant this person status as an actual, qualified legend.

Otherwise, give it a rest.

No more of Bill Walsh being the “legendary” San Francisco 49er coach. Or Boston’s “legendary” Red Auerbach.

No more of Julius Erving being the “legendary” basketball star. I know kids in malls who would identify Julius as the place that sells orange drinks.

No one should be a legend simply because she or he was or is successful. Or won a championship in something. Or became “famous,” whatever that means.

I once thought that to be a legend, the least you should do is be dead. Or, at least, nearly dead.

The legends of Moses or Julius Caesar or Mark Twain seemed clear to me. But I’m not sure that I understand the introductions of “living legends” Jerry Lewis or Jerry Lee Lewis.

And then there are our temporary legends. At the moment, 99 of 100 can identify Madonna. But will they sing her praises a hundred years from now? Or will they say: “Madonna? Oh, yeah. Wasn’t she the church lady?”

My dictionaries are no help. Most of the listed definitions of a legend deal with mythology or popular but unverifiable tales. My “Webster’s New World Dictionary” makes no mention whatever of a legend being someone who is really, really well known.

My “American Heritage Dictionary” is even less help. One definition of a legend is: “A person who achieves legendary fame.” Then the definition of legendary is: “Of, constituting, based on, or the nature of a legend.”

Swell. That clears that up.

I was in a car during Super Bowl week when an L.A. talk-show type alluded to football’s “legendary” Tom Fears.

I also heard a San Diego call-in show when reference was made to quarterbacks having difficulty following “in the footsteps of a legend,” Dan Fouts.

They must mean of, constituting, or based on the nature of Dan Fouts.

Look, let’s get something straight. Fears and Fouts were fine football players. (Say this five times fast.) But if you walked into a school, an office or a mall, randomly stopped 100 people and asked them to identify either name, how many could do it?

Maybe we need a special category for a “local legend.” Maybe 99 of 100 at a San Diego mall really have heard of Fouts.

Ninety-nine of 100 in Los Angeles might be able to tell you who Tom Bradley is. Bet they can’t in Philadelphia. Ninety-nine percent in Detroit could identify, oh, Bill Bonds. But even after he emceed President Clinton’s town-hall meeting, Bonds is a TV personality unknown in, say, Texas, or France.

Maybe we should divide it up--legends, American legends and local legends.

Joe DiMaggio, for example, is an American legend. He is not an athletic idol in Japan or England the way, say, Chris Evert or Jack Nicklaus might be, because people in those countries generally do not idolize old New York Yankees. To them, Joe’s the guy who married Marilyn Monroe.

Even in New York a few years ago, a poll of school children identified Joe DiMaggio as Mr. Coffee.

Who are legends?

It’s a fine line. John Wooden is a coaching legend if you stopped 100 basketball coaches. If you stopped 100 people at a rock concert, they wouldn’t know John Wooden from John Wayne.

The sports legends, the ones whose names are known to all? Oh, I don’t know. If you stopped 100 shoppers, how many would know who Billie Jean King was? Or Ben Hogan? (You’d do better with Hulk.) Or Ted Williams? Or Bill Shoemaker? Or Pele? Or Howard Cosell? Remember now, you need 99%. Adults, kids, people picked at random.

What should a legend be? I think I’ll make up five more rules:

1. Dead or retired.

2. Fifty or older.

3. Instantly recognizable.

4. Quotable.

5. Not a synchronized swimmer.

So far, I’ve got Muhammad Ali.