HATFIELDS AND MCCOYS

It’s rivalry time. Memphis vs. Austin for the 2001-02 Central Hockey League championship, the President’s Cup. Game Three coming up Thursday night at the DeSoto Civic Center (the best-of seven series is tied at one game apiece after Austin’s victory Sunday night). What? You didn’t realize we had a rivalry with this city a mere 650 miles west of the Mighty Miss? Read on.

These cities know how to name their teams. RiverKings is a hybrid nickname based on two of the Bluff City’s most identifiable charms. Ice Bats is a hybrid nickname based on an essential element of hockey and the winged creatures that apparently fly out from under Austin’s Congress Bridge every night, a million strong (yikes!).

Austin is the capital of Texas, a state larger than most nations and far too much territory for any single municipality to reasonably expect to govern (see Odessa). Memphis is the “capital” of the Mid-South, a region made up of western Tennessee, eastern Arkansas, and northern Mississippi. Far too much territory for any single municipality to reasonably expect to govern (see West Memphis).

Austin has the Scholz Beer Garden, described at digitalcity.com as “the place where politicos go to make deals and hash out compromises.” Memphis has Harold Ford Sr.’s living room.

Within driving distance of Austin is Georgetown, Round Rock, and Pflugerville. (Does someone from Pflugerville call himself a Pfluger or a Pflugerite? Or perhaps . . . a Texan?) Within driving distance of Memphis is Germantown, Little Rock, and Collierville. (Someone from Collierville will let you call him whatever you want, as long as it’s not Memphian.)

Austin was once home to Stevie Ray Vaughan, the legendary blues guitarist taken from us far too early in a 1990 helicopter crash. Memphis was once home to Elivis Presley. Let’s forget how we lost the King and remember there would have never been a Stevie Ray without him.

Austin has a legendary hotel, the Driskill. Memphis has a legendary hotel, the Peabody. The Driskill doesn’t have ducks.

Home to Dell and Motorola, Austin is referred to in some circles as “the Silicon Prairie.” Home to edEx and AutoZone, Memphis is referred to in

Some circles as “America’s Distribution Center.” What these monikers do for a rivalry, I have no idea.

Each March, Austin hosts South by Southwest, a festival of music and movies that draws thousands. Each May, Memphis hosts Memphis in May, which includes a music festival, a food festival, and the World Championship Barbecue Cooking Contest. Edge to Tom Lee Park.

Austin’s finest barbecue can be found at the Salt Lick or Earl Campbell’s. Memphis’ finest barbecue can be found at the Rendezvous or Corky’s. For the sake of nostalgia, we’ll give the edge here to the 1977 Heisman Trophy winner.

Downtown Austin’s 6th Street is a music-lover’s paradise, with club after club offering the best in live blues, jazz, and rock. There’s a popular parade every Halloween. Downtown Memphis’ Beale Street is a music-lover’s paradise, with the Rum Boogie, B.B. King’s, Black Diamond, Elvis Presley’s Memphis, the King’s Palace Cafe, etc. Dyer’s Burgers gives Memphis the edge here.

Austin is home to the University of Texas, whose proud football program will perpetually overshadow any other team that dares aim for the attention of local sports buffs. Memphis is home to the University of Memphis, whose proud basketball program will perpetually overshadow any other team that dares aim for the attention of local sports buffs.

Now, forget that last nugget and hop aboard the good ship RiverKing. After all, the only thing worse than Memphis not taking the CHL title is for the hardware to wind up in, of all places, Austin.

BOBBLE, BOBBLE, TOIL, AND TROUBLE

This bobblehead craze . . . well, it’s got my head spinning. I just don’t get it. And I’ve tried. As much as I love sports — and I’m just as much a sucker for a nice collectible as the next guy — I just don’t understand the bobblehead phenomenon. You shape and paint the likeness of a sports hero — or bench-warmer, it doesn’t seem to matter — attach the oversized head, via spring, to what amounts to a one-size-fits-all body, and you’ve got a ceramic (or plastic) “doll” for life. It would be one thing if this was a fad of sorts, kind of like those obnoxious crown-shaped air fresheners you’d see on car dashes years ago. But these babies are fetching some cash! My dad’s an economics professor. I know of supply and demand. The manufacturers are keeping the supply under control, for obvious reasons. But the demand? Why?

A recent cyber-trip to eBay provided an alarming lesson on bobble value and its relationship to the star-power of athletes. The lesson? There is no relationship.

For some perspective, we’ll start with a pair of locals. A bobblehead of the Memphis Grizzlies’ shoo-in for Rookie of the Year, Pau Gasol, was Going for around $20, as was that of Gasol’s teammate, Jason Williams. It should be noted, now, that the Williams bobblehead — designed free of hair in homage to the early-season J-Will — looked more like one of those creatures that stepped off the ship in “Close Encounters of the third Kind” than it does our loveable, dribble-happy point guard. Which is a sizable flaw, if you ask me, in the mission at hand. If I purchase a Jason Williams trading card, poster, or photo, I can look at my souvenir, share it with my buddies, even frame the image as a tribute to an NBA star. If I were to cover up the uniformed body on that bobblehead and show it to friends, they’d be sure I was displaying Bruce Willis from “12 Monkeys.”

Back to the eBay price comparison. Dallas sports fans will be happy to know they can have a bobblehead of Troy Aikman — owner of three Super Bowl rings and a mortal lock for the Hall of Fame — for around $10. Now, if they happen to be Mavericks fans and want a bobblehead of Eduardo Najera — a popular bench player still best known for having his noggin opened up in a head-on with Mateen Cleaves at the 2000 NCAAs — they’re looking at a starting price of $79.95.

Even sports fans who don’t the difference between a Zamboni and Zanzibar are going to recognize hockey legend Mario Lemieux. Probably one of the three or four hockey players that would in fact be picked out of a lineup anywhere in the U.S., to say nothing of Canada. Well, Super Mario has a bobblehead, designed in Olympic attire no less. Last I checked, the price was a very reasonable $13. When I scanned down to find Marian Gaborik’s bobblehead, imagine the shock at his price tag: $60. Or Ilya Kovalchuk’s: $25. If you know who Gaborik (a member of the Minnesota Wild) and Kovalchuk (Atlanta Thrashers) are, you need to pack your bags, grab all the Molson from your fridge, and head back to Manitoba. I don’t

care about any law of supply and demand . . . when Gaborik fetches four times as much as Lemieux, something’s amiss.

Overpriced toys, designed in unrecognizable likenesses of often mediocre professional athletes. Gimme more! What the heck ever happened to trading cards, people? Or hey, I’ll even concede some value to the line of sports figures designed by Starting Lineup. I’ve got three of them in my office, actually, a baseball player, a football player, and a hockey player. With SLUs, you at least have a somewhat poseable replica of a given athlete, sculpted with head-to-body proportion in mind. Nothing like a good Seventies-era Star Wars figure, but a reasonable attempt at least.

Perhaps most disturbing is the fact that, whereas most marketing efforts around celebrities are done in ways that flatter the star, bobbleheads would seem to accomplish the exact opposite. An individual’s appearance is reduced to what amounts to caricature (thus the easy Willis/Williams bald confusion). The Elvis bobblehead distributed by the Grizzlies April 5th could just as easily have represented one of those obnoxious New Kids on the Block from the early Nineties (don’t ask for a name). But can you imagine what it’ll go for on eBay?!

The kicker for me was seeing where Hall of Fame shortstop Ernie Banks fits in the bobblehead ranks. One of the most likeable athletes to ever suit up on American soil, Mr. Cub’s toy was priced at $15. A bobblehead of ESPN sportscaster Stuart Scott — yes a talking head bobblehead — was going for no less than $51. Is your head spinning, too?

(Care to respond? Write mailonthefly@aol.com.)

BOBBLE, BOBBLE, TOIL, AND TROUBLE

This bobblehead craze . . . well, itÕs got my head spinning. I just donÕt get it. And IÕve tried. As much as I love sports Ñ and IÕm just as much a sucker for a nice collectible as the next guy Ñ I just donÕt understand the bobblehead phenomenon. You shape and paint the likeness of a sports hero Ñ or bench-warmer, it doesnÕt seem to matter Ñ attach the oversized head, via spring, to what amounts to a one-size-fits-all body, and youÕve got a ceramic (or plastic) ÒdollÓ for life. It would be one thing if this was a fad of sorts, kind of like those obnoxious crown-shaped air fresheners youÕd see on car dashes years ago. But these babies are fetching some cash! My dadÕs an economics professor. I know of supply and demand. The manufacturers are keeping the supply under control, for obvious reasons. But the demand? Why?

A recent cyber-trip to eBay provided an alarming lesson on bobble value and its relationship to the star-power of athletes. The lesson? There is no relationship.

For some perspective, weÕll start with a pair of locals. A bobblehead of the Memphis GrizzliesÕ shoo-in for Rookie of the Year, Pau Gasol, was Going for around $20, as was that of GasolÕs teammate, Jason Williams. It should be noted, now, that the Williams bobblehead Ñ designed free of hair in homage to the early-season J-Will Ñ looked more like one of those creatures that stepped off the ship in ÒClose Encounters of the third KindÓ than it does our loveable, dribble-happy point guard. Which is a sizable flaw, if you ask me, in the mission at hand. If I purchase a Jason Williams trading card, poster, or photo, I can look at my souvenir, share it with my buddies, even frame the image as a tribute to an NBA star. If I were to cover up the uniformed body on that bobblehead and show it to friends, theyÕd be sure I was displaying Bruce Willis from Ò12 Monkeys.Ó

Back to the eBay price comparison. Dallas sports fans will be happy to know they can have a bobblehead of Troy Aikman Ñ owner of three Super Bowl rings and a mortal lock for the Hall of Fame Ñ for around $10. Now, if they happen to be Mavericks fans and want a bobblehead of Eduardo Najera Ñ a popular bench player still best known for having his noggin opened up in a head-on with Mateen Cleaves at the 2000 NCAAs Ñ theyÕre looking at a starting price of $79.95.

Even sports fans who donÕt the difference between a Zamboni and Zanzibar are going to recognize hockey legend Mario Lemieux. Probably one of the three or four hockey players that would in fact be picked out of a lineup anywhere in the U.S., to say nothing of Canada. Well, Super Mario has a bobblehead, designed in Olympic attire no less. Last I checked, the price was a very reasonable $13. When I scanned down to find Marian GaborikÕs bobblehead, imagine the shock at his price tag: $60. Or Ilya KovalchukÕs: $25. If you know who Gaborik (a member of the Minnesota Wild) and Kovalchuk (Atlanta Thrashers) are, you need to pack your bags, grab all the Molson from your fridge, and head back to Manitoba. I donÕt

care about any law of supply and demand . . . when Gaborik fetches four times as much as Lemieux, somethingÕs amiss.

Overpriced toys, designed in unrecognizable likenesses of often mediocre professional athletes. Gimme more! What the heck ever happened to trading cards, people? Or hey, IÕll even concede some value to the line of sports figures designed by Starting Lineup. IÕve got three of them in my office, actually, a baseball player, a football player, and a hockey player. With SLUs, you at least have a somewhat poseable replica of a given athlete, sculpted with head-to-body proportion in mind. Nothing like a good Seventies-era Star Wars figure, but a reasonable attempt at least.

Perhaps most disturbing is the fact that, whereas most marketing efforts around celebrities are done in ways that flatter the star, bobbleheads would seem to accomplish the exact opposite. An individualÕs appearance is reduced to what amounts to caricature (thus the easy Willis/Williams bald confusion). The Elvis bobblehead distributed by the Grizzlies April 5th could just as easily have represented one of those obnoxious New Kids on the Block from the early Nineties (donÕt ask for a name). But can you imagine what itÕll go for on eBay?!

The kicker for me was seeing where Hall of Fame shortstop Ernie Banks fits in the bobblehead ranks. One of the most likeable athletes to ever suit up on American soil, Mr. CubÕs toy was priced at $15. A bobblehead of ESPN sportscaster Stuart Scott Ñ yes a talking head bobblehead Ñ was going for no less than $51. Is your head spinning, too?

(Care to respond? Write mailonthefly@aol.com.)

A WEEK TO REMEMBER (AND BOTTLE)

Whew! It took me a week . . . but I’ve managed to catch my breath. Has there ever — ever — been a sports week in this city like the one we had starting March 25th? Felt like I got knocked around for three rounds by the heavyweight champ, stumbled into the world’s most famous arena (and found some old friends), only to find my way back home..and in the company of major league ballplayers. Please, if there’s been a bigger sports week in Memphis history, let me know.

MONDAY (3/25)

It’s official. The most notorious athlete of this generation is going to bring his misogynist, ear-chomping self to Memphis for a shot at Lennox Lewis’s heavyweight championship. Whatever you think of Mike Tyson, be sure of this: his fight with Lewis on June 8th will be the biggest sporting event the Bluff City has ever seen…and arguably the biggest news out of this city (sports or otherwise) since August 16, 1977. The cheapest ticket will be $400. You won’t find a hotel room between Little Rock and Jackson. Let’s just cross our fingers that the only bloodshed to come of this date is the result of a Lewis right hook.

Across the country in Portland, our Grizzlies shook up the NBA landscape by erasing a 25-point second-half deficit to upset the playoff-bound Trail Blazers. So what if Blazer star Rasheed Wallace didn’t suit up? I don’t care if you’re facing the Danny DeVito School for the Height Impaired, making up 25 points in 24 minutes of basketball is a feat. And a franchise record for the Griz.

TUESDAY (3/26)

If University of Memphis freshman Dajuan Wagner does as many think he will and declare for the NBA draft, this was the night his decision was made. Taking the floor at Madison Square Garden for an NIT semifinal against Temple, Wagner looked as comfortable as you’d expect a native of

Camden, New Jersey, to be in the Big Apple’s rightest spotlight. He poured in 32 points — in the process breaking Penny Hardaway’s single-season Tiger scoring record — and dished to Kelly Wise for a game-winning dunk in the final minute of play. (For some gravy, our RiverKings eliminated Fort Worth in the first round of the CHL playoffs.)

WEDNESDAY (3/27)

A day of rest. Exhale.

THURSDAY (3/28)

With all due respect to the juggernaut of a dance team at the University of Memphis, never before this day had our flagship institution of higher learning brought home an NCAA-sanctioned national title. With 16 more points from tournament-MVP Wagner, Memphis whipped South Carolina, 72-62, for the the NIT championship. No, it’s not the NCAA tournament. And no, John Calipari has no interest in repeating next season. But as for consolations, this was pretty darn sweet.

FRIDAY (3/29)

Baseball’s here! Our Redbirds hosted their parent club, the St. Louis Cardinals, in an exhibition game at AutoZone Park. Appearing live were former Redbirds J.D. Drew, Placido Polanco, Garrett Stephenson, and reigning National League Rookie of the Year, Albert Pujols. Worried about the Redbirds’ offensive punch after last-season’s soft showing? You might grab the coattails of So Taguchi. The Japanese rightfielder — starting the year in Memphis after a rough big-league initiation in Florida — drilled a two-run homer and made two stellar catches to boot. Appropriately enough for the family affair that it was, the Cards and ‘Birds finished tied, 3-3, after ten innings of play.

Mother Nature crashed the party Saturday and rained out the second Cardinals-Redbirds game. You know what? I’m sort of glad she did. How much can a Memphis sports-brain take? I was sitting in the press box at the ‘Zone Friday night, shortly after the end of a 40-minute rain delay, when none other than Red Schoendienst took a seat to my right. A man who has worn a Cardinals uniform for 45 years, has nine World Series rings, and a Hall of Fame ring to boot. I introduced myself to “the ol’ redhead” and began to describe our city’s week in sports. Trouble was…where to begin?

I’ve got a quote on my office wall from Rogers Hornsby, the St. Louis Cardinals’ Hall of Fame second baseman and the finest righthanded hitter ever to lace up a pair of spikes: “People ask me what I do in the winter when there’s no baseball. I’ll tell you what I do, I stare out the window and wait for spring.” The Rajah’s spirit is certainly giddy these days, as the dawn of a new baseball season is upon us. In his honor, let’s try and answer nine questions — we’ll call it a batting order — for the upcoming season.

(1) Can the Arizona Diamondbacks repeat? Only if Randy Johnson and Curt Schilling do…which isn’t likely. The D’Backs are an old team. Key contributors to last year’s champs include Luis Gonzalez (34), Mark Grace (37), Matt Williams (36), and Steve Finley (37). As brilliant as Johnson (38) and Schilling (35) were last year in finishing one-two in the Cy Young race, the law of averages says this team is due a letdown. Now, if they manage to stay healthy and get into the postseason, well, there’s no more deadly a tandem than Arizona’s pair of aces.

(2) Can one Jason Giambi equal 11 World Series rings? The Yankees are counting on it. Say what you will about the addition of Rondell White, Robin Ventura, and David Wells. They’re window dressing in George Steinbrenner’s world. The Boss will need the former Oakland MVP to pump out his usual offensive numbers and fill a sizable leadership void left by former Yanks Paul O’Neill, Scott Brosius, and Tino Martinez.

(3) Will anybody actually watch Expos baseball? After 33 seasons, Montreal will be playing what amounts to a 162-game swan song. The franchise that gave us Andre Dawson, Gary Carter, Tim Raines, Randy Johnson, Larry Walker, and Steve Rogers (remember him?) will find itself in Washington, D.C. or a victim of contraction come 2003. Been to a Memphis RiverKings game recently? That’s the kind of crowd you’ll see at Olympic Stadium this season.

(4) Is there a rookie out there to match last season’s phenoms? Short answer: no. Seattle’s Ichiro Suzuki last season became the first rookie in 26 years to earn MVP honors. St. Louis’ Albert Pujols merely made Mark McGwire expendable. The only name that might approximate this kind of impact in 2002 is San Diego’s rookie third baseman, Sean Burroughs. The son of former American League MVP Jeff Burroughs, Sean hit .322 last year for Portland in the Pacific Coast League.

(5) Is there life after Cal, Tony, and Big Mac? You want to find a hotel room near Cooperstown, New York, in the summer of 2007? Better call now. Baseball lost a lot of its spirit with the retirement of these three legends. But let’s be realistic…they were shadows of themselves last season. Barry Bonds has 600 homers in his sights. Randy Johnson is going for a fourth straight Cy Young. The Braves are aiming for an 11th consecutive postseason berth. Baseball will be just fine.

(6) Is there a scarier lineup than that of the New York Mets? Roberto Alomar, Edgardo Alfonzo, Jeromy Burnitz, Mo Vaughn, Mike Piazza…yikes. If these five stay healthy and the Mets get reasonable starting pitching, well, the Braves are playing for second.

(7) Is Moises Alou the answer for the Cubbies? George Bell (a former MVP) wasn’t. Andre Dawson (an MVP with Chicago) wasn’t. The only way the Cubs avoid another year as “The Sammy Sosa Show” is for Kerry Wood to burst out, injury free, and carry his fellow starters along for the ride. The North Siders better hope for another 20 wins from Jon Lieber.

(8) Will anyone hit 74 home runs? Let’s hope not. Barry Bonds was incredible last season, particularly in light of the way he was pitched (he wasn’t). But who cared? Whether it was the personality involved or the proximity to the summer of ‘98, the home run race became ancillary in 2001. It’s a team game, folks. Check the standings.

(9) Is there a better place to watch a baseball game than the Wrigley Field bleachers? Absolutely: the leftfield bluff at AutoZone Park. Picnic blankets, toddlers, dads playing catch with sons and daughters, visits from Rockey… and a chance to catch a home run ball every single game. Go Redbirds!

When my friend and colleague Jackson Baker asked me if I was interested in starting a weekly cyber-column, my first thought was…what’s my deadline? As a means of introduction, I feel obligated to mention my day job as managing editor for Memphis magazine. For almost seven years now, I’ve spent more time than I choose to measure establishing and enforcing deadlines for writers, advertisers, and graphic designers. And I’m still learning to distinguish between velvet

gloves and iron fists in this capacity. How the heck am I going to handle making my own deadline, and on a weekly basis no less?

The answer, at least I hope, is an easy one. Because this deadline is going to be fun, a chance for me to share some thoughts, observations, maybe even a little analysis on the local – and sometimes national-sports scene. Jack has even told me he’ll allow a column here or there on topics that really matter in our lives, those away from the playing field and locker room. Scary thought, that.

Once I agreed to take on this happy endeavor, my first assignment was coming up with a title. I hope the three words I chose convey the intended message. Because regardless of the subject matter, no matter how serious or light-hearted my ood is on a given week, the fact is…I’m a fan. I love sports (well, most of them).

And there’s so much to see in Memphis (all you Bluff City sports cynics take a breath here). The NBA (and its big-league hype machine) has landed downtown; AutoZone Park is starting to feel like a delightful part of the city scenery; the University of Memphis Tigers continue to

raise our hopes each fall and winter…and too often break our hearts; professional golf and tennis are locked into the calendar every

bit as much as the two big Elvis weeks; we even have a hockey team playing its tenth (!) season and vying for a championship.

Don’t tell me Memphis isn’t a sports town. (It happens to be a wonderful alternative to that overrated moniker. Memphis is a sports town with an abundance of other unique, even provocative qualities. Perhaps I can explore some of those in the weeks ahead.)

There are just a few more things you should know about me. (1) My family is about the only entity in my life that has hold on more of my heart than the game of baseball. You’ll likely learn the team of my devotion long before an unbiased writer would allow. Call it my vice. (2) I’m the son of two University of Tennessee alumni…and the husband of a University of Memphis graduate.

So no finger-pointing as I take one side or the other in the blue-orange (orange-blue?) debate. (3) I can’t golf a lick. I’ve never even made contact with a driver. But I love the FedEx St. Jude Classic, and I think the fourth round of a major is as gripping as sports can be.

This is my favorite time of year, as winter turns into spring, sweaters go to the attic, March Madness screams into our living rooms, and the front porch is sweeped off for some serious discussion on just who might knock off the Yankees this year. (I’m betting on that National League club up the river a piece, bright red caps. Woops.)

I’m thankful for the chance to share this season (and beyond) with you. Why don’t you pull up your seat right next to mine.

(Care to respond? click here.)

When my friend and colleague Jackson Baker asked me if I was interested in starting a weekly cyber-column, my first thought was…what’s my deadline? As a means of introduction, I feel obligated to mention my day job as managing editor for Memphis magazine. For almost seven years now, I’ve spent more time than I choose to measure establishing and enforcing deadlines for writers, advertisers, and graphic designers. And I’m still learning to distinguish between velvet

gloves and iron fists in this capacity. How the heck am I going to handle making my own deadline, and on a weekly basis no less?

The answer, at least I hope, is an easy one. Because this deadline is going to be fun, a chance for me to share some thoughts, observations, maybe even a little analysis on the local – and sometimes national-sports scene. Jack has even told me he’ll allow a column here or there on topics that really matter in our lives, those away from the playing field and locker room. Scary thought, that.

Once I agreed to take on this happy endeavor, my first assignment was coming up with a title. I hope the three words I chose convey the intended message. Because regardless of the subject matter, no matter how serious or light-hearted my ood is on a given week, the fact is…I’m a fan. I love sports (well, most of them).

And there’s so much to see in Memphis (all you Bluff City sports cynics take a breath here). The NBA (and its big-league hype machine) has landed downtown; AutoZone Park is starting to feel like a delightful part of the city scenery; the University of Memphis Tigers continue to

raise our hopes each fall and winter…and too often break our hearts; professional golf and tennis are locked into the calendar every

bit as much as the two big Elvis weeks; we even have a hockey team playing its tenth (!) season and vying for a championship.

Don’t tell me Memphis isn’t a sports town. (It happens to be a wonderful alternative to that overrated moniker. Memphis is a sports town with an abundance of other unique, even provocative qualities. Perhaps I can explore some of those in the weeks ahead.)

There are just a few more things you should know about me. (1) My family is about the only entity in my life that has hold on more of my heart than the game of baseball. You’ll likely learn the team of my devotion long before an unbiased writer would allow. Call it my vice. (2) I’m the son of two University of Tennessee alumni…and the husband of a University of Memphis graduate.

So no finger-pointing as I take one side or the other in the blue-orange (orange-blue?) debate. (3) I can’t golf a lick. I’ve never even made contact with a driver. But I love the FedEx St. Jude Classic, and I think the fourth round of a major is as gripping as sports can be.

This is my favorite time of year, as winter turns into spring, sweaters go to the attic, March Madness screams into our living rooms, and the front porch is sweeped off for some serious discussion on just who might knock off the Yankees this year. (I’m betting on that National League club up the river a piece, bright red caps. Woops.)

I’m thankful for the chance to share this season (and beyond) with you. Why don’t you pull up your seat right next to mine.