They Perform a Miracle, but Can They Repeat It?

I’ve had the car tuned up, a new belt put on the vacuum cleaner and didn’t think much of it, but after the daughter, who can’t get a date, went to Lukaro’s Salon in Beverly Hills for a complete makeover recently, you know what? I got to thinking about UCLA football Coach Karl Dullard and USC’s future.

If you could see what this barber, Luke O’Connor, did to the kid to transform her into someone alluring enough now to maybe snag a doctor or engineer -- and if anyone deserves to have a son-in-law who is a doctor or engineer ... well, let me just tell you, making Coach Dullard appear interesting has to be a lot easier.

I’d like to help, but I’ve been a die-hard Trojan fan for nearly 100 days now, and I’m not sure this crucial week is the right time for a Dullard makeover. But I’m sitting here looking at the beautiful daughter -- arranged by miracle worker Frank Pace and his assistant Katherine -- and it’s just amazing what they can do without incorporating surgery.

They have her wearing this lipstick, for example, that just screams, “kiss me,” which by the way is going to make it a lot more comfortable for all of us when we go out and she’s not yelling at every guy who walks by to lay one on her. Now if I can get her to lend some of the stuff to the wife, we can all go out again without incident.

Obviously, I’m not recommending the lipstick for Coach Dullard, but I saw what a difference a smile makes with this guy.

Before he began his news conference Monday, he walked over and handed me a cup of coffee so I’d be able to stay awake while he talked. It was his clever response to last week’s column when I talked about the necessity for a caffeine buzz when spending time with him.

I didn’t think he had it in him, but it was a nice surprise, and really the first glimpse beyond the steady drone that there might be something more there.

It also gave me a chance to feel what it must have been like to be Luke the Barber chopping and hacking away at that mop on the daughter’s head, and ending up with a real looker. (I would ask the editors to double-check, and make sure there are no typos, and it reads real “looker.”)

I’m told Luke the Barber worked on Brooke Shields in the past, and as you know, I’ve done what I could at times with Shawn Green. I’ve asked Luke if we could change jobs for a night, but he hasn’t gotten back to me yet. As you know, I’m big on helping people.

(By the way, many thanks to Nyla Wilkins, account supervisor for Manning Selvage & Lee, who sent the case of Red Bull for Coach Dullard, and although I think we’d all like to see if it would make a difference after downing 24 cans of the energy drink, I’m not sure I have that kind of influence with him yet.)

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TO BE honest, I didn’t set out to help Coach Dullard, but I found myself asking smart aleck questions at his news conference the last two weeks -- almost daring him to say something angry or funny in response so we might see a personality.

For example, when he told the media that he had said to his players, “they better keep fighting,” I asked if he had gone so far as to tell them, “Fight on!”

“I didn’t say ‘Fight on,’ ” he replied, and I took a sip of coffee.

I tried the same jabbing approach with Davey Johnson a few years back to breathe some life into him, and he said, “As long as I’m manager of the Dodgers, I’m never going to speak to you again.”

I wrote the next day something like, “I hope I can wait the three weeks,” and next thing you know we had the Micro-Manager running the Dodgers, so I realize I’m playing with fire here, and we might end up with nothing more than gibberish.

But I’d kind of like Saturday’s game between the two L.A. schools to be more quotable fun, and so that’s why I gave it one more try after Monday’s news conference and pulled Coach Dullard aside.

I reminded him that all of L.A. will be watching -- including recruits who must decide between playing for the Walking Sleeping Pill or Pete Carroll, and so maybe it’s time for his own complete makeover.

I suggested that he should come running out of the Coliseum tunnel in front of his team, grabbing the UCLA banner on the way, and waving it above his head.

“Let me think about that,” he said, but I’m telling you, this is the moment of truth for Coach Dullard. Just imagine the look on the faces of his players, who are already down for the count, when they realize their coach is actually alive.

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ENJOYED HOLLYWOOD Park’s hospitality Friday night, actually guessed right on a superfecta -- so you know I wasn’t using Misery’s picks -- went to collect and I had lost the ticket. My first thought was the Grocery Store Bagger had lifted it, but he wasn’t with us. It was still my first thought.

Turns out I had forgotten to take the ticket after giving money to the mutuel clerk. I guess I had gotten into the habit of giving the track my money and not expecting anything in return. The mutuel clerk, Mary Baldomir, could have said nothing, pocketed the ticket and she would’ve earned more than what she was being paid that night. But she saved the ticket -- even after knowing it was a winner, found me and handed it over. I thought about kissing her. But the wife was with me. My lucky day, I guess.

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TODAY’S LAST word comes in e-mail from Scott Betancourt:

“I saw you interview the three (La Verne) volleyball players.... I knew you didn’t care about their story even before you wrote it. You don’t even know the basics to the game. It was embarrassing to see a pro writer like you fumble around for questions to ask.... You’re such a little milk-fed, mouth-breathing veal of a man.... I’m sure your son is proud of you. I’m sure your wife loves kissing that algae mouth of yours.”

I don’t have a son.

T.J. Simers can be reached at t.j.simers@latimes.com.