What if They Gave a Celebrity Golf Event and Nobody Came?

This is life that should exist on the other side of the moon with no chance of ever being seen down here.

Forget the United Way campaign. Support NASA and a one-way space shuttle capable of jettisoning the get-a-life-challenged people here, who willingly spent $15 a day to be demeaned and disappointed at the Isuzu Celebrity Golf Championship.

Sure, jack up the price, and you bet it would be entertaining to watch “celebrities” such as Billy Joe Tolliver (Kansas City Chiefs), Trent Dilfer (Tampa Bay Buccaneers) and Kerry Collins (Carolina Panthers) line up along the water-lined 18th fairway on the Edgewood Tahoe Golf Course with football in hand and see if any of them could hit the 12-mile-wide lake.

At least that would provide some suspense beyond Tolliver’s effort to hold a three-stroke lead, although realistically two of the three probably would nail it. Florida Coach Steve Spurrier talks as if he could walk on water, so let’s see.

Former vice president Dan Quayle, 20 over par after two rounds, could provide another thrill if asked to spell the plural of bogey.

But anyone paying $15 with the intent of schmoozing with the celebrities or treating their kid to a lifelong memory was stopped at the front gate and ordered to empty their pockets.

Those caught with Instamatics were ordered to check them with officials, along with anything they wanted autographed. Strip searches have not been ruled out for today’s final round.

“Johnny Bench did the hardest thing in the world, hitting a 90-mph fastball, but he can’t putt with a camera clicking in the background?” said Mike Hendricks, a local sports collectible store owner. “Just doesn’t make any sense.

“The celebrities really think people are coming to watch them play golf; there’s only about five guys out there who really know how to swing a club. The people come because they want autographs.”

Official autograph pens cost $2, just beyond the signs admonishing everyone not to ask for autographs during tournament play.

“Johnny Bench wouldn’t sign a golf ball,” said Gary Michels from San Jose. “Bryant Gumbel wouldn’t either, but said he’d sign a program. After a while I began asking myself, why am I doing this? An autograph from Al Del Greco--to be honest, who cares?”

Gumbel told a youngster too young to read, “Not now; I’ll sign after my round, son.” Gumbel had just finished his first nine holes and was 11 over par.

Based on observation, the best place to watch these guys is from home, because when the TV camera goes on, that’s when many of them suddenly become engaging. “The Today Show’s” Matt Lauer is a nice guy on or off camera, but if you don’t want to be disappointed by former hockey player Mario Lemieux, don’t get up close and personal.

Everyone, of course, wanted the autographs of John Elway and Jerry Rice. But Elway walked the fairways with a billy-club and gun-toting policeman, which really didn’t seem like enough firepower knowing the way Packer fans can act. Rice, taking time away from rehabilitating his knee and Bay Area massage parlors, had four friends, in addition to two policemen, protecting him from the common folk.

New Orleans Saint Coach Mike Ditka was so emphatic about not signing autographs, that he even spelled out the word, “N-o” to a group of youngsters. Someone should have told him the same thing when he hired Heath Shuler a year ago.

Come on, what is this fascination people have with cuddling up to celebrities who seem hellbent on running from the unwashed? Why would any celebrity come to a celebrity event and not expect to be hounded like a celebrity? Why pretend this is serious business when most of these guys are just hackers?

“We probably take this too seriously,” said Dilfer, who broke his driver in a fit of rage after an errant shot and later apologized to the gallery. “But this is not a hit-and-giggle tournament. This is our U.S. Open.”

Dilfer shot an 81 Saturday.

NBC is broadcasting this event because these hackers are celebrities, and because having lost the NFL and with plans now to sponsor a new football league, they need the experience of televising events no one cares about. The network chooses who plays, and Caesars Tahoe picks up the hotel tab and all money lost on the gambling tables, while players pay their own way here.

Olympic gold-medal-winning freestyle skier Jonny Moseley, only 69 strokes behind Tolliver after rounds of 103-106, is now the leader to finish last, which is still worth more than $1,100.

The winner gets $100,000, and it’s usually former Dodger Rick Rhoden, who has won $395,000 in previous appearances. A top-10 finisher earns no less than $8,000--as if Elway, who is tied for fifth, needs it; five minutes after checking into Caesars, his wife won $20,000 from a slot machine.

“I’m trying to win this thing,” Elway said, “but let’s be honest--without the people, we wouldn’t be here.”

Boxer Oscar De La Hoya, grasping that concept better than anyone, became the crowd favorite because the crowd understood he was pretty much the exception, willing to laugh, talk and mingle with them.

Former quarterback Jim McMahon, meanwhile, looking for friends now that no one is paid to play with him, sat down and invited people to gather for his autograph. Imagine that.

Had he guaranteed he would not blow his nose again on a reporter’s shirt, it might have been interesting to get in line.

After all, although the paying customers were starved for such access, the line for McMahon was short, quickly dwindling until there was no longer anyone asking for his autograph. Imagine that.

The Leaders

Leaders after two rounds of the 54-hole Isuzu Celebrity Golf Championship at the par-72 Edgewood Tahoe golf course:

Billy Joe Tolliver: 72-68--140 -4

Mario Lemieux: 76-67--143 -1

Rick Rhoden: 73-70--143 -1

Dan Quinn: 72-71--143 -1

Dick Anderson: 75-69--144 E

Jan Stenerud: 72-72--144 E

John Elway: 72-72--144 E

Oscar De La Hoya: 89-81--170 +26