Month: January 2002

Categories
Sports Sports Feature

MEMPHIS SPORTS SCENE

Blast coach Rickey Jemison says that this league is about one thing: helping football players go pro. “The players play to get an opportunity to get looked at,” Jemison says. That’s right. No salaries, no TV cameras, just some guys playing football in a serious way.

Jemison knows something about serious football. He’s the second all-time leading rusher for Arkansas State University, and later played for the NFL’s Redskins. Jemison also coached in various positions for the AFL2’s Arkansas Twisters and Pensacola Barracudas.

The squad, according to Jemison will hold try-outs around Valentine’s weekend.

Also, according to the NAFL website (www.nafl.net), the Memphis Blast will hold tryouts at the Wilson World End (near the Mall of Memphis) from 6:30-10:30 p.m. on Saturday, February 2.

Both teams are part of the South East Region Central Division, along with the Central Arkansas Rhinos, as well as other teams to be determined soon.

Also, starting its second season in Memphis are the Memphis Xplorers in the Arena2 football league. The Xplorers will hold tryouts as well this Saturday. Here’s what the ever eloquent Xplorers PR people have to say:

“Memphis Xplorers head coach Danton Barto won’t spend the morning on Groundhog’s Day looking for some silly rodents’ shadow. He’ll be looking for some hardcore serious football players.

“The Xplorers will hold their final open tryout for the 2002 season on Saturday February 2, at Southaven High School. Registration will begin at 9 a.m. (long after the Groundhog has made its appearance), with the on field workout scheduled to begin at 10 a.m.

“Prospects should wear appropriate workout attire and cleats. Cost of the camp is $45 which covers the mandatory arenafootball2 insurance. Payment can be by cash, or money order. No personal checks will be accepted.”

No rodents, huh? Good to see that Coach Barto has his priorities straight. And good to see that Memphis semi-professional football, a brand of loveable vermin in its own right, refuses to die.

ODDS & ENDS

  • Let’s all raise a glass to Grizzlies Center Bryant Reeves in his retirement. Far too many sportswriters speak badly of the big guy (I’m guilty as well), but he was just someone asked to do too much, given his relative capabilities. Also, while his salary will still burden the team through next year, at least he had the good sense to walk away and let the team get on with their collective lives.

  • Here’s a list of rookies playing in the All-Star rookie game: Shane Battier, Memphis; Pau Gasol, Memphis; Brendan Haywood, Washington; Joe Johnson, Boston; Andrei Kirilenko, Utah; Tony Parker, San Antonio; Zeljko Rebraca, Detroit; Jason Richardson, Golden State; and Jamaal Tinsley, Indiana. For those on the Rookie of the Year watch, seeing Battier, Gasol, and Tinsley mix it up should be fun. You can get a preview during tonight’s game as the Grizzlies travel to Indianapolis.

  • The two top Grizzlies vote-getters for the 2002 All-Star game are guard Jason Williams (170,807 votes), and center Lorenzen Wright (65,263 votes). Both players are in the top ten for their respective positions in the Western Conference.

  • Rookie forward Pau Gasol has scored in double figures in 11 straight games and has scored 25 points or more six times during that span. He is shooting 60 percent (98-of-164) in his last 11 games. Gasol has not shot under 50 percent in a game since making 2-of-5 shots in a loss to Atlanta on January 4.

  • Tiger senior forward Kelly Wise currently leads the C-USA in rebounding with 11.6 rpg. Freshman guard DaJuan Wagner currently ranks second in scoring with 21.2 ppg.

QUOTABLE:

  • “That’s what the game comes down to, a silly play. It doesn’t make any sense, this game, sometimes.” A very un-Zen Lakers coach Phil Jackson, on the officiating in the Lakers 93-87 loss on January 27.

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We Recommend We Recommend

thursday, 31

I am sad. Very sad. I saw on the news that there is soon going to be a way to block telemarketers from calling your home, which seems to go against the Great American Dream. I mean, they are doing their jobs just like anyone else trying to make a buck. And I love to talk to telemarketers.

Here s a good way to make their day. You wait for the person to come on after the little three-second delay and you get very, very perky and enthusiastic: You want to speak with the person who pays for the long distance calling service? Well! I guess that would have to be me and me alone, now, wouldn t it? What can I do you for this evening? You re what?!! Hold on. This is too weird. You must be psychic. I was just this minute thinking of buying a very rare kind of three-eyed sea turtle for the old swimming pool out back to help with the otter problem. You are going to save me money on my long distance calling service?!! That is amazing, but, you know, they are pretty costly and eat only a kind of seaweed that has to be chipped from the ice by scientists and then thawed and shipped overnight every day, and let me tell you, that is not cheap! So I was, you know, crunching some numbers here and there, shaving a little off of this and that and doing the old switcharoo with the IRA and the 401(k) and the BBC and the VCR and the MTV and wasn t really getting anywhere. Then you call with a way to save me some money! That is incredible! Oh, can you please hold on for one fast second.

See, I m taking care of a sick friend who got struck by lightning while in line at a fast-food restaurant, and let me tell you, it was some blast. I heard they found a pickle as far away as Macon, Georgia. It blew out all of his teeth and he s in the other room moaning for some pudding. Hold on. Hey, in there!! Keep it down!! You ll get your Snack Pack in uno momento! Right now, I ve got someone on the line who s gonna help me buy my turtle! Whew, always nagging me.

Okay, let s talk about this deal. Come on with the deal. What s the offer? What s the offer all about? I m sure it s great! I bet you can beat every one of those other companies hands-down! Say, what s your name, anyway? Brad? Brad? Oh ê my ê well, I certainly don t believe this is happening. You re not going to believe this ê well, maybe you will, Brad, because you seem to be psychic and a sharp guy: I have a hemorrhoid named Chad! Can you stand it? You re name is Brad and my hemorrhoid s name is Chad! They rhyme just like in a poem or like you were twins or something! Brad and Chad. Wow!

Say, Brad, did you know my hemorrhoid can talk?! True story, fella. In fact, my hemorrhoid Chad is the one who does all of the long-distance calling. Yep, calls his other hemorrhoid buddies all over the world. Speaks seven languages. They all belong to this international organization called Hemorrhoids Of the World Don t Yield (HOWDY). And man-o-manicotti, Brad, these HOWDY members are scared to death their breed is shrinking, and they are a rowdy bunch. Let me tell you, Brad, they get on the phone and talk and talk and talk and talk for hours and hours and hours. Chad has a couple of hemorrhoid buddies living in a survivalist camp out in Montana that were actually Siamese twins that had to be separated with a Ginsu knife, and let me tell you, Brad, they are pretty bitter.

And, noooooo, they don t call and waste their money on long-distance phone bills. They just sit around the cave and wait for Chad to call them up on my dime and waste all of my money! Money that I could be saving for that sea turtle while, in the meantime, the otters are clogging up the hot tub jets out back.

Say, Brad, you ever sit around the fire at night drinking wine and listening to Judy Garland records? No? Don t go in for that kind of thing? Oh, well, I always like to ask, just in case. Say, would you like to say hi to Chad? Hold on just one minute. I ll be there with that pudding in a minute!! Stop crying!! Here you go, Brad. Say hi to Chad. Chad, say hi to Brad. Now, tell me a little more about this money you are going to save me ê .

Or something like that. Anyway, at this point I m not so sure who is the less dignified, so forget all this and take a brief look at some of what s going on around town this week. Tonight, University of Memphis student Nate Eppler s Keeping Up with the Joneses opens at the Michael Rose Theatre. It s the story of a family of geniuses that includes a biologist, an ornithologist, a physicist, and a would-be super hero. Preston Shannon is at Isaac Hayes. There s live jazz at Cafe Zanzibar on South Main, which I hear is a very good jam session. Teresa Pate and her jazz band are playing in the M Bar at Melange. And last but certainly not least, there s a CD release party for Memphis treasure Lily Afshar at Automatic Slim s.

Categories
News News Feature

TRANSLATION: MEMPHIS

This weekend I had one of the most frightening thoughts that I have ever had. I was relaxing with a few of my friends after a day spent cruising estate sales, when all of the sudden Michael Jackson popped up on the television and threw me a really ugly mental right hook. Now Memphis, from what I’ve seen, is a city with a fairly thriving estate sale business. It’s also a city, obviously, with one of the most famous and well-visited estates in the world of music culture.

Ah, the city of the King, where for about $15 you can lay your eyes on the actual jungle room (and I’ll admit that tacky as it might be I want to steal every piece of furniture from that ridiculously ornate room.) But what’s going to happen to Memphis when that other “king” hangs them up? How will Graceland compete with the Neverland Valley Ranch petting zoo?

Disturbed yet? When I raised the question of the pilgrimage possibilities for Jackson’s future estate, the aforementioned friends told me that their stomachs were turning. And I have to agree. The day they convert that place into a full-blown Mecca for pop culture memory, I fear that the apocalypse will be peddling on its bicycle just a little bit faster, good songs and music history aside.

To be serious for just a moment, though, I find it really interesting that people are so fascinated by the homes of deceased cultural and historical figures, but often overlook the goldmine of history and inanity that can be gleaned from a couple of good estate sales.

I once knew an aging hippy in Orlando who was an estate sale aficionado. At one particular sale, he found a dusty box of old science fiction comics from the 1940’s in a garage. As the box was unmarked, he offered $40 for them, paid them and went on his merry way. On a whim, he then decided to bring them to an appraiser. The estimated value of the box was $10,000! I sat there and wondered. Could I, a mere novice in the world of post-mortem resale, find a gem like that too?

I haven’t. Not even close, unless I’m grossly underestimating some random knick-knack half-buried in my apartment. But that’s OK. I did find a series of paintings of alien-eyed 1950’s looking girls playing guitar, which I later noticed on the wall in an episode of Third Rock From the Sun. Besides, the real reason I like going to these sales is that I’m just plain nosy. Little facts like where some random person kept their underwear appeal to me more than the Antiques Roadshow possibilities. I would cash in, though, given the chance.

The estate sale culture of Memphis is pretty serious. Most weekends there are at least four or five sales, all spanning various socio-economic brackets and corners of town. This, to me, is where the intrigue lies. How do people in Memphis live? Where do they live? What kinds of things do they fill their lives with? We can all pretty easily find out what Elvis had. What about the rest of the city?

A year or so ago, I went to a sale somewhere near the Memphis Botanic Garden in one of the coolest houses I have ever seen. I wandered through a series of angled walls and sloped ceilings, spiral staircases and rainbow-colored art until I found myself in a dark paneled basement. Amidst the clutter that basements are made for there was a box of letters. Suddenly I found myself sprawled out on the floor, much to the dismay of the company holding the sale it seemed, and engrossed in a huge romance story. The letters were dated around the time of World War II, if I remember correctly, and were post-marked from all over Europe. They were from a woman who had been involved with the estate’s owner for what seemed to be many years.

Apparently a freer spirit than the archetypal cookie-cutter housewife we normally associate with that era, she beckoned the man to tell her if they could be together without the relationship consuming the identity she had struggled to create for herself. Move over Fabio! This was the real thing, and though I poured over the letters, I never found out whether this woman had ultimately become the mistress of the house, or if this was just a box of treasured memories that the man had carried with him until he died.

Maybe it’s morbid in a way, but I love pouring through the stacks of possessions that are in a home to try to figure out who was there. To find out how real people live is to see a side of culture that often gets overlooked in a city’s tour guide descriptions and summaries. Why is it that certain people collect figurines of mice? What is the significance of a large collection of Japanese vases? You can tell so much about people by looking at the landscapes inside their homes.

It’s also fun to watch the people that go to estate sales. From the get-go, you can always spot the “professionals.” These people have absolutely no time for you to get in their way, and will physically block your passage if they think they’ve spotted something of value. These people kind of scare me. They conjure an image in my mind of the Good Samaritan lying face down on a Memphis street, picked clean of any and all valuables. The hardcore estate sale set will barrel through room after room practically foaming at the mouth. Sometimes I like to get in their way just for fun. You’ll also see the artists who wander about, rich and less than rich people looking for a bargain or a centerpiece, and everybody in between.

At one point, my friends and I talked about staging an estate sale in our apartment and hiding video cameras around the rooms to capture the strange aura created by so many different walks of life shopping side-by-side. How many people would stop to ask about the person behind the shirts in the drawers, the story behind the choice of art on the walls? What would people decide to make their own? I think it would make a fascinating documentary, and Memphis would be the perfect filming ground for such an endeavor.

Oh, and to get back to the Michael Jackson issue for just a moment, I think I’ve devised a plan. There’s a safe possibility, I think, that when the time comes for the King if Pop to pass, the rest of his family will be so caught up in the ever-intriguing Jackson family slew of personal melodrama, that maybe they just won’t notice. Maybe they’ll sell off the place and be done with it. And if I can find enough boxes of old sci-fi mags lying around, I’ll buy the place, shut it down, and make sure the world will be safe from the frightening Neverland petting zoo for as long as I possibly can.

Categories
Sports Sports Feature

TIGERS CLIP CARDS, 80-70

The encounter Wednesday night at The Pyramid between the University of Memphis and the University of Louisville had all the makings of a late-March showdown.

Two high-profile basketball schools. Two higher profile coaches. Cheerleaders doing back-flips a half-hour before tip-off. And national television to boot . . . prime time. Riding a seven-game winning streak (and having won 11 of their last 12), John Calipari’s Memphis Tigers matched up with familiar rivals Wednesday night: the Louisville Cardinals and their own Armani-clad helmsman, Rick Pitino. It was the 78th meeting between these two old Metro Conference nemeses (the Cards owning a 47-30 edge) and the 12th confrontation between the two northeast-bred coaches (Pitinio having won

seven).

A tomb-rattling Pyramid crowd of 19,914 added to the postseason-quality setting.

In boxing terms, it was a unanimous, though tight decision. A 12-round affair of punches and counterpunches, with the U of M slightly less bruised at the final bell, winners by an 80-70 count. Calipari was his usual, matter-of-fact self following his first win over the Cardinals. “It was a hard-fought game,” he said with a shrug. “Rick wasn’t going to let them get away. He’s got them playing at a high level; they make runs in bunches.”

(For the record, Coach Cal wore an olive-green tie; Pitino chose a silver number to complement his gray suit. No school colors tonight.)

Once Memphis took the lead — about five minutes into the contest — it was never relinquished, though frequently challenged. A driving layup by Louisville’s star junior, Reece Gaines, tied the score at 32 with just over three minutes to play in the first half. Gaines had been held scoreless for the game’s first 16 minutes but wound up with 17 on the night. What had once been an 11-point Memphis advantage was a mere four-point lead at the half.

Which is when the Tiger coach approached junior center Earl Barron to find out what was wrong. “I went up to Earl and asked if he was sick,” explained Calipari. “I asked if he was hurt. When he said he wasn’t, I said, ‘Then play!’ ”

Having struggled against a sagging Cardinal zone n the first half, Barron responded with a second half his coach described as “unbelievable,” teaming with senior forward Kelly Wise for a pair of double-doubles. Barron’s 19 points were second only to freshman guard Dajuan Wagner’s 23; his 11 rebounds were exceeded only by Wise’s 18.

Memphis pushed its lead back up to nine with 11:39 to play in the second half, only to see it dwindle to a single digit behind Louisville’s scoring tandem of Gaines and Luke Whitehead (20 points). A follow-up, one-handed dunk by the Tigers’ Chris Massie gave Memphis a 61-56 lead at the 8:45 mark. When Cardinal center Ellis Myles (the middle of that zone defense) fouled out with just under two minutes left, the Tigers found their winning margin. A pair of free throws by Barron with 31 seconds on the clock drew the curtain down for the Cardinals.

In achieving his seventh straight double-double (he scored 16 points), Wise became only the fourth Tiger in history to seize 1,000 rebounds for his career, joining Forest Arnold, Ronnie Robinson, and Keith Lee (three Tiger legends who have their jersey-numbers hanging from The Pyramid’s rafters). With 13 double-doubles on the season — he entered the game fifth in the nation in this category — Wise is inching closer in the race with Cincinnati’s Steve Logan for Conference USA’s Player of the Year honors.

That is, if Wagner doesn’t spoil the party. The son of former Louisville standout — and current Memphis assistant — Milt Wagner, Dajuan’s scoring average improved to 21.3, second in the conference only to Logan.

With the victory, Memphis improves to 8-0 in C- USA (18-4 overall), the program’s best start in league play since the 1983-84 Tigers won their first nine Metro Conference affairs. Over the last two seasons the Tigers are now 15-1 under Calipari during the month of January. The loss drops Louisville to 12-7 in their first season under Pitino, 3-5 in conference play.

“We’re pretty good,” said Calipari when asked what he learned from this tilt. “We’re still young. Someone different should be prepared to step up every game. Tonight, it was Earl.” As far as the bitter Tiger-Cardinal rivalry goes? Calipari said his players saw the night as simply “another game,” noting, “They couldn’t tell you Louisville’s record.”

Up next for the Tigers are a pair of home games. The Horned Frogs of TCU visit The Pyramid Saturday for a 1 pm tip-off (Memphis won their game in Fort Worth on January 9th, 98-93).

Memphis then hosts Tulane on Monday night. Despite 29 points from the Green Wave’s Brandon Brown, the U of M won their previous meeting on January 12th, 78-70.

Categories
News The Fly-By

THE SMOKING LOVE GUN II

Sometimes it s best to let documents speak for themselves. The following information was extracted from a Memphis Police Department incident report. Bad grammar and sentence fragments have been left intact and only the names have been eliminated to protect the innocent.

Details on Incident #201009485ME: On 01/22/02 at 1734 hrs, Officer Bibbs 334 responded to a Holding Prisoner at [the new Central Library]. [The] victim advised she as on the second floor, of the Central Library, in the rear right side, when she observed the suspect s pants down and he was stroking his unerect penis, which was dark in color. Victim advised she told library personnel, who contacted security. Victim stated the subject had some books, containing nude paintings. Victim advised security detained the suspect and called the police. Officer arrived on the scene and the victim advised she couldn t identify the suspect as the person she observed masturbating, but could identify his penis. The suspect was released be security and a report was taken. Victim was given a copy of the victim right form.

To avoid future occurrences along these lines perhaps the library should consider replacing all art books containing nude paintings with copies of the Bible. Than again, that song of Solomon is pretty racy stuff.

Categories
News The Fly-By

FLY ON THE WALL

A Coretta Scott King Award for children’s literature was awarded to Jerry Pinkney for his illustrations for Goin’ Someplace Special, Patricia McKissack’s autobiographical story about going to the Memphis Public Library. While pausing to view some public art, young McKissack was kidnapped by bearded, cross-dressing communist thugs and forced to worship a naked statue of Satan. Okay, we just made that last part up. It was really a pretty uneventful trip

Categories
Politics Politics Beat Blog

HANGING IN THERE

God never asked us to be successful. He asked us to be faithful.” Those words, part of a stirring oration by city council member TaJuan Stout-Michell Saturday to the attendees at mayoral candidate Harold Byrd‘s headquarters opening at 3183 Poplar Ave., were a fair statement of the campaign’s root premises these days.

Whatever smoke might be blown from now on by Byrd’s supporters or by his opponents, or even by the candidate himself, the Bartlett banker — who began his quest more than a year ago and was firstest with the mostest in fundraising — has long ceased to be the frontrunner in the current Democratic primary competition for the office of Shelby County Mayor to succeed the outgoing Jim Rout. A single Republican, State Representative Larry Scroggs, has also declared for mayor thus far.)

From the point that he signaled an interest in the mayoralty late last summer, and especially after his formal announcement of candidacy in October, the clear frontrunner — both in a poll or two and in more anecdotal surveys — has been Shelby County Public Defender A C Wharton, on the basis of perceived experience (he has toiled on public bodies dealing with law enforcement, mental health and education, for starters), personal likeability, and — though Wharton is an African American and a Democrat — his genuine ability to cross racial and political borders.

“Harold had it made until A C got in,” is the phrase one hears from numerous pols sympathetic to both men, sometimes with a wistul shaking of the head on Byrd’s behalf.

And, as if to rib it in, Wharton was able to flaunt a key endorsement Friday — on the very eve of Byrd’s headquarters opening.It came from State Senator Jim Kyle, who thereby got on the same bandwagon as his three Democratic colleagues in the Senate — Steve Cohen, Roscoe Dixon, and John Ford — at a press conference choreographed to suggest a united front and irresistible momentum for the Shelby County Public Defender, last Democrat to enter the mayor’s race.

(Ford and Dixon, who had previously made their preferences known, were absent from the press conference; Cohen was present.)

Kyle, who had been the first to announce his interest in running for mayor early last year and the first (and so far the only) candidate to withdraw, had been talking privately for some time about what he saw as Wharton’s good chances for election. Thursday he described Wharton as “better” than other “good” candidates.

The two recipients of this left-handed compliment were Byrd, of course, and State Representative Carol Chumney, who had not yet convinced most onlookers that she’s a serious player — even though she has quietly picked up endorsements from the Shelby County Women’s Caucus and the AFL-CIO and could even be more of a sleeper than a spoiler.

Chumney also has ventured further and more explicitly into certain issues — notably, city-county consolidation, which she favors — though a key adviser or two are candid about her need to do so in order to overcome her better-heeled Democratic opponents’ advantages.

For roughly a month, rumors have circulated to the effect that Byrd was on the verge of dropping out of the mayor’s race before the final withdrawal date next month. “Not a chance,” said Byrd, who insists he is in for the long haul and suggests that such reports had been planted by the Wharton campaign to try to stampede Democratic voters — and financial supporters — in the Public Defender’s direction.

The timing of the Kyle announcement — as much as the manner of it, overseen by a public relations firm — was a confirmation both of Byrd’s suspicions and of the confident, almost languid manner just now of the Public Defender, who also happened to be coming off a fresh (and lucrative) fundraiser or two.

Byrd had his own new endorsement Saturday — from entertainer/entrepreneur Isaac Hayes, who gave a testimonial to Byr’d “morals, his character, his integrity.” The campaign’s hope clearly was that the impact of a cultural icon would prove more potent to a voting public than an endorsement by Kyle would be to political insiders.

The fact is, though, that Wharton is the clear frontrunner, and that it is no longer in Byrd’s interest to pretend otherwise. What the Bartlett banker does have, to judge by the turnout Saturday, is a large and loyal commitment from a grass-roots population (heavily black, to judge by the crowd) that will stick it out with him.

His chances now are not those of a comfortable front-runner but those of a Rocky, an underdog with determination and spunk. In private, Byrd’s campaign people employ the rhetoric of “the people versus the powerful” to describe their view of the race, in testament to what they see as Wharton’s considerable numbers of supporters who are visibly well-off, politically established, and comfortable, but they have not yet ventured to make such rhetoric a strong and vivid part of their public appeal.

Nor do they (or can they) make much of another assumption shared by most of them — notably the African Americans in Byrd’s campaign. Namely, that a victory by Wharton in May might give the Democratic ticket in August an all-black look which, when complemented by the expected all-white roster of Republican nominees, could make the general election a de facto racial-line campaign, with resultant damage to a discussion of the issues.

Byrd himself seems to be having difficulty articulating what — at this stage, certainly — ought to be a populist campaign, and tends to answer almost every question put to him with variations on his stock speech, which begins with his difficult growing-up in McNairy County and trickles out somewhere around the point that the begins talking about the mounting county debt that he says propelled him into the race.

The trouble with that is that he’s said that before and it sounded then, as it does now, too much like an accountant talking.

Still, the man is who he is — well-liked, determined, and feisty if need be, as well as a sincere believer in opportunity for those who, more or less like himself back in those outdoor-privy McNairy County days, will have to come up from nothing.

It is a considerable irony that his major opponent happens to be a primary exhibit in his own person of such progress, and Byrd can only hope that Wharton’s campaign style at some point begins to appear even more languid, lumbering and complacent than it already does at times — to the point that voters might heed the strains of a candidate trying as hard as he can to come from behind.

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We Recommend We Recommend

wednesday, 30

Harry & Dave at the Blue Monkey. The Distraxshuns at Elvis Presley’s Memphis. Someone else somewhere, I’m sure, but now I have to go. As always, I really don’t care what you do this week, because I don’t even know you, and unless you can see to it that, once again, everyone leaves Winona Ryder alone — the story is that she just stepped outside with her things to smoke a cigarette, a perfectly legitimate thing to do — then I’m sure I don’t want to meet you. Besides, it’s time for me to blow this joint and go find out if they’ve put any ashtrays in the new workout facility next door to my office yet.

—T.S.

Categories
News News Feature

TRANSLATION: MEMPHIS

This weekend I had one of the most frightening thoughts that I have ever had. I was relaxing with a few of my friends after a day spent cruising estate sales, when all of the sudden Michael Jackson popped up on the television and threw me a really ugly mental right hook. Now Memphis, from what I’ve seen, is a city with a fairly thriving estate sale business. It’s also a city, obviously, with one of the most famous and well-visited estates in the world of music culture.

Ah, the city of the King, where for about $15 you can lay your eyes on the actual jungle room (and I’ll admit that tacky as it might be I want to steal every piece of furniture from that ridiculously ornate room.) But what’s going to happen to Memphis when that other “king” hangs them up? How will Graceland compete with the Neverland Valley Ranch petting zoo?

Disturbed yet? When I raised the question of the pilgrimage possibilities for Jackson’s future estate, the aforementioned friends told me that their stomachs were turning. And I have to agree. The day they convert that place into a full-blown Mecca for pop culture memory, I fear that the apocalypse will be peddling on its bicycle just a little bit faster, good songs and music history aside.

To be serious for just a moment, though, I find it really interesting that people are so fascinated by the homes of deceased cultural and historical figures, but often overlook the goldmine of history and inanity that can be gleaned from a couple of good estate sales.

I once knew an aging hippy in Orlando who was an estate sale aficionado. At one particular sale, he found a dusty box of old science fiction comics from the 1940’s in a garage. As the box was unmarked, he offered $40 for them, paid them and went on his merry way. On a whim, he then decided to bring them to an appraiser. The estimated value of the box was $10,000! I sat there and wondered. Could I, a mere novice in the world of post-mortem resale, find a gem like that too?

I haven’t. Not even close, unless I’m grossly underestimating some random knick-knack half-buried in my apartment. But that’s OK. I did find a series of paintings of alien-eyed 1950’s looking girls playing guitar, which I later noticed on the wall in an episode of Third Rock From the Sun. Besides, the real reason I like going to these sales is that I’m just plain nosy. Little facts like where some random person kept their underwear appeal to me more than the Antiques Roadshow possibilities. I would cash in, though, given the chance.

The estate sale culture of Memphis is pretty serious. Most weekends there are at least four or five sales, all spanning various socio-economic brackets and corners of town. This, to me, is where the intrigue lies. How do people in Memphis live? Where do they live? What kinds of things do they fill their lives with? We can all pretty easily find out what Elvis had. What about the rest of the city?

A year or so ago, I went to a sale somewhere near the Memphis Botanic Garden in one of the coolest houses I have ever seen. I wandered through a series of angled walls and sloped ceilings, spiral staircases and rainbow-colored art until I found myself in a dark paneled basement. Amidst the clutter that basements are made for there was a box of letters. Suddenly I found myself sprawled out on the floor, much to the dismay of the company holding the sale it seemed, and engrossed in a huge romance story. The letters were dated around the time of World War II, if I remember correctly, and were post-marked from all over Europe. They were from a woman who had been involved with the estate’s owner for what seemed to be many years.

Apparently a freer spirit than the archetypal cookie-cutter housewife we normally associate with that era, she beckoned the man to tell her if they could be together without the relationship consuming the identity she had struggled to create for herself. Move over Fabio! This was the real thing, and though I poured over the letters, I never found out whether this woman had ultimately become the mistress of the house, or if this was just a box of treasured memories that the man had carried with him until he died.

Maybe it’s morbid in a way, but I love pouring through the stacks of possessions that are in a home to try to figure out who was there. To find out how real people live is to see a side of culture that often gets overlooked in a city’s tour guide descriptions and summaries. Why is it that certain people collect figurines of mice? What is the significance of a large collection of Japanese vases? You can tell so much about people by looking at the landscapes inside their homes.

It’s also fun to watch the people that go to estate sales. From the get-go, you can always spot the “professionals.” These people have absolutely no time for you to get in their way, and will physically block your passage if they think they’ve spotted something of value. These people kind of scare me. They conjure an image in my mind of the Good Samaritan lying face down on a Memphis street, picked clean of any and all valuables. The hardcore estate sale set will barrel through room after room practically foaming at the mouth. Sometimes I like to get in their way just for fun. You’ll also see the artists who wander about, rich and less than rich people looking for a bargain or a centerpiece, and everybody in between.

At one point, my friends and I talked about staging an estate sale in our apartment and hiding video cameras around the rooms to capture the strange aura created by so many different walks of life shopping side-by-side. How many people would stop to ask about the person behind the shirts in the drawers, the story behind the choice of art on the walls? What would people decide to make their own? I think it would make a fascinating documentary, and Memphis would be the perfect filming ground for such an endeavor.

Oh, and to get back to the Michael Jackson issue for just a moment, I think I’ve devised a plan. There’s a safe possibility, I think, that when the time comes for the King if Pop to pass, the rest of his family will be so caught up in the ever-intriguing Jackson family slew of personal melodrama, that maybe they just won’t notice. Maybe they’ll sell off the place and be done with it. And if I can find enough boxes of old sci-fi mags lying around, I’ll buy the place, shut it down, and make sure the world will be safe from the frightening Neverland petting zoo for as long as I possibly can.

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Sports Sports Feature

CATS AND BIRDS

It’s not as though a Memphis-Louisville college basketball game needs an angle for intrigue. Having squared off 77 times since 1948, with many of those games deciding conference championships and thrusting players into the national spotlight, the Tigers and Cardinals have the kind of rivalry that remains heated and more than a little emotional on both sides, regardless of current records or rosters.

But not since the halcyon days of the Metro Conference in the 1980s — when Louisville reached the Final Four four times and the Tigers once themselves — has this contest held the kind of magnetism it will Wednesday night at The Pyramid.

Start with the coaches. If you don’t find them in the pages of Sports Illustrated, you might check GQ. From their Italian names, to their jet black hair, to their emotive — all the while stylish — displays on the sidelines, John Calipari and Rick Pitino are the poster boys for the modern-day, larger-than-the-program-itself college hoops coach.

Each with roots in the northeast, each with failed NBA ventures on his resume, each with his share of controversy trailing from Boston to Providence to Amherst, Massachusetts, to East Rutherford, New Jersey, now to Dixie . . . these two are twelve pounds of personality in a ten-pound sack. God forbid they ever allow Cincinnati’s Bob Huggins in the same room. (If this confluence ever does happen, I want the room bugged.)

Calipari and Pitino have a history on the court, both as college coaches and in the NBA. College fans will remember a rather epic confrontation in the 1996 Final Four semifinals between Cal’s 35-1 UMass Minutemen and Pitino’s 32-2 Kentucky Wildcats. Kentucky knocked off Marcus Camby and company, 81-74, then won an anticlimactic championship game against Syracuse.

By the fall of ‘97, each coach ran a franchise in

the NBA’s Atlantic Division, Calipari taking the Nets to the ‘98 playoffs, Pitino not fairing quite as well with his Boston Celtics.

And how about the Wagner angle? If there’s been a pinnacle to the long Memphis-Louisville series, it was certainly between 1981 and 1986 when the majority of games featured not one, but two All Americans: Louisville’s Milt Wagner and Memphis’ Keith Lee. Over 11 meetings during this period, Wagner averaged 15.5 points as the Cards won seven times.

Wagner played in three Metro Conference tournament title games against

Memphis, the Tigers taking the first (‘82), the Cardinals winning in ‘83 and ‘86 (a game in which Wagner poured in 34 points). The fourth leading

scorer in Louisville history, Wagner’s jersey number (20) was retired two years ago.

Now 16 years after his last game against Memphis, Milt sits on the Tiger bench, the coordinator of basketball operations for Calipari’s staff. And, oh yeah, the Tigers’ star freshman happens to be Milt’s son, Dajuan (junior has shaved the zero off his dad’s jersey number). Think Louisville’s army of fans wouldn’t like to take some wind out of the Wagner family’s Bluff City sails? Any doubt that Pitino has mentioned the Wagner name as he motivates his troops for an upset?

The Tigers will take the floor Wednesday night for the nationally televised battle well in command of Conference USA’s National Division. Louisville, meanwhile, sits in the American Division, shadowed darkly by Huggins’ top-ten Bearcats. If there’s a blemish on this historic rivalry, it’s the fact that the two schools no longer meet twice a year, so local fans can only catch those devil-red uniforms once every two seasons. All the more reason there seems to be a premium — and an extra dose or two of intrigue — to Tigers-Cardinals, No. 78.