It’s Time to Rip and Rave

Now that Santa Claus has passed judgment on who has been naughty and nice this year, it’s time to decide who deserves props and who should get no love for their roles in the 1998 year in sports.

Give Monica Seles her props. It was one of the smaller, less heralded moments in sports, but for some reason it sticks in my mind. At the Toshiba Tennis Classic in La Costa this summer, a line judge ruled Lindsay Davenport’s shot was out. Seles, who had a better view, said it was in and conceded the point to Davenport. It’s nice to know some people still care about sportsmanship and honor.

No love for NFL referees and baseball umpires, who are so arrogantly wrong that they probably wouldn’t have accepted Seles’ admission.

Give Warrick Dunn his props. With the help of corporate sponsors, the Tampa Bay running back has given 11 fully stocked houses (complete with refrigerators stuffed with food) to needy families in the last two years.

No love for Kevin Greene. And, for that matter, everyone who got so worked up about Latrell Sprewell last year but didn’t find it necessary to condemn Greene. I love their excuse that Greene going after assistant coach Kevin Steele was different than Sprewell attacking P.J. Carlesimo because “It was in the heat of the moment” during a game. Wasn’t the outrage over Sprewell supposed to be about lack of respect for superiors? So what made this any different? All it takes is a glance at the photos of everyone involved to know the answer.

Give Keith Jackson his props. No one did college football play-by-play better. Saturday afternoons in the fall won’t be the same without you, Hoss.

No love for XTRA Sports or AM 1150 or whatever it’s called. Joe McDonnell was one of the few sports-radio hosts who bothered to show up in the locker rooms and do real work instead of simply mouthing off in a studio, but the station canned him. It’s their loss. And their audience’s.

Give Stuart Appleby his props. He lost his wife in a car accident, but he hasn’t lost his determination to win on the golf tour.

No love for the PGA. They would have you think that letting a person with a disability ride in a golf cart gives him an unfair advantage. Fortunately, Casey Martin proved them wrong in court. Unfortunately, he also proved them wrong with his poor results on the Nike Tour. It just goes to show that nothing--no amount of titanium or graphite or oversizing or cart-riding--will ever make golf easy.

Give college basketball its props. This is one sport that the all-powerful influence of television has actually improved. The network-brokered matchups give us a string of good games in November and December. And the men’s basketball committee’s emphasis on strength-of-scheduling in the tournament-selection criteria has made coaches willing to play tough nonconference opponents. It seems as if we can watch two ranked teams go at it every night. That has made it easier to live without the NBA.

And there’s no love for the NBA. This used to be the best sport. Then they started to forget about the actual product and began focusing on peripheral stuff like alternate uniforms and cartoon sound effects during the games, while the players stopped worrying about winning and concentrated on getting paid. But even the circus-like, watered-down product was better than no product at all. Instead of Jerry West’s silhouette, the NBA logo should be a mushroom cloud.

Mike Tyson knows all about messing up a good thing. And he’s done plenty wrong. But give him props for showing up to pay respects at Jim Murray’s funeral Mass in August. And give him props for paying for the funeral of a white teenager in Phoenix who took a bullet in the neck while trying to save two young black girls caught in the cross-fire of a shootout. For both the teenager and Tyson, those weren’t things they had to do. But they felt they were the right things to do.

Give Teemu Selanne his props. It’s amazing that someone can be that good and that happy without ever testing positive for drugs.

Give Kevin Malone his props for going all out to put a winning team in Dodger Stadium (for as long as there is a Dodger Stadium). For all we know, he probably will pilot the chartered jet for Kevin Brown’s family himself.

No love for the San Diego Padres. They tell voters that they need a new, publicly funded stadium. The voters bought it, then the Padres stood by and watched their best free agents leave town. Who’s going to want to pay the sure-to-be-jacked-up ticket prices to watch the Florida Marlins of the West play in their new stadium a couple of years from now?

Finally, props to my family and friends who help me get through each day, to my co-workers who get the words on the page, and to everyone who takes the time to read them.

We’ll stop there. I have no love for writers who get too sappy.