Chargers fans shouldn’t bother getting hopes up
It’s the time of year when you think of people less fortunate or living in San Diego.
It’s pretty well understood that the folks living down there just don’t have what it takes to work and live in Orange County or the L.A. area. The people who live there know it, it bugs them, but it’s not like they’re living in Nebraska -- so for the most part they accept the fact they are less fortunate.
About the only chance they get to feel good about themselves is every decade or so when their football team does well, and they get to walk around proudly with lightning bolts attached to their heads. In that respect, they aren’t much different than the yahoos who live in Nebraska and prance around with ears of corn atop their heads.
These are giddy times, all right, in San Diego, with the football team sitting atop the standings and bound for the Super Bowl. If they had any tall buildings downtown, just imagine what kind of parade they might throw.
Hard to believe that only a few years ago the city had to buy unsold tickets for almost every game to make good on a bad public-money deal, but as you know, there’s no better fair-weather city in the country than San Diego.
And right now it’s L.T. this, L.T. that, and, “L.T., on behalf of all the fans here ...” Hank Bauer, the team’s resident cheerleader and radio broadcaster, gushed Sunday, “I want to thank you for allowing us to witness your greatness. Wow, what a player, what a person.”
Coach Marty Schottenheimer was almost moved to tears while discussing L.T., and if you had Schottenheimer’s postseason career record, you’d be moved to tears too, knowing the guy is on your side.
AS YOU know already, though, the Chargers are finished. They might have the best record in football, the best team overall, but all that remains is the depressing news conference with Schottenheimer that will follow another playoff loss.
I was there in Cleveland when it went wrong, and so many times in Kansas City when the Chiefs were favored to advance to the Super Bowl only to fold before the finish line.
In so many ways he’s Chuck Knox, just a great guy, but one pep talk shy of rallying the troops when it means the most. In fact I’ve got a feeling Schottenheimer swiped a Knoxism when he told his Browns before a long-ago title game, “There’s a gleam, men. There’s a gleam. Let’s get that gleam.”
At least that would explain the number of missed tackles as they continued to try to get that gleam.
It’s an annual NFL tradition come the end of the season, Schottenheimer bent at the waist on the sideline wondering what went wrong. He’s 5-12 in the games that count the most while never making it to the Super Bowl without a ticket.
Now I’ve always been a big fan of Schottenheimer’s, because I love sad sacks and because we named our dog, Ralphie, after him.
Take a look at the pictures here and tell me I’m wrong. I firmly believe that Ralphie, the sad-sack kid from “A Christmas Story” warned by everyone, “You’ll shoot your eye out, kid,” after getting a Red Ryder BB gun for Christmas, grew up to be a sad-sack Marty Schottenheimer.
I first mentioned this nine years ago in The Times when I wrote about Schottenheimer and the prospect of Kansas City losing in the playoffs. Since then, the evidence has mounted that somewhere along the line Ralphie changed his name.
As you know from the movie, Ralphie grew up on Cleveland Street, and Marty went on to become the head coach in Cleveland. I wouldn’t be surprised to find a major award for Marty, the old special teams assistant coach, shaped in the form of a leg lighting up his favorite room in his home.
Ralphie took the Browns to the playoffs four times, an icicle falling on his head every time, losing to “The Drive,” and then to “The Fumble.” You have to go all the way back to the whipping he gave Scut Farkas to find his last big win.
When he went to Kansas City, he compiled a 101-58-1 mark in the regular season, and though he advanced to the playoffs seven times, he ended each year eating duck. (If you saw the movie, you’d understand.)
We don’t know, of course, whether it will be the inexperience of Philip Rivers, Shawne Merriman mistakenly swallowing steroids again or Peyton Manning making like Elway, but those folks down there in San Diego are destined once again to be left miserable.
As you know, we don’t have those worries in L.A. or Orange County.
IT’S BEEN a great couple of days for Mattel Children’s Hospital at UCLA leading up to tonight’s visit by Santa Claus, known to some as Tom Lasorda, at the kids’ party at the John Wooden Center.
Andrew, the daughter’s date solicited from the radio show, not only asked her out for a second date resulting in an all-out family celebration, but donated his winnings from Los Alamitos on Saturday night to the kids.
FSN’s Dean Benson offered a cash contribution while working the Clippers game, and reader Daniel Wilson offered a $100 check and “hope that none of the recovering children -- while sitting on Santa’s lap -- ask him about pitching to Jack Clark with first base open.”
Clippers old man Sam Cassell also made a $1,000 donation to the kids, or so it seemed when he said he’d pay if he failed to make at least 35% of his shots from three-point range this season. Cassell, a 15% shooter right now, said if he makes at least 35% of his shots, then Page 2 has to donate in his place.
The thing about Cassell, besides not being much taller than most kids, he’s such a dreamer. The kids thank him -- already -- for his contribution.