Author: Kenneth Neill

I think you know the high regard in which I hold you, both personally and as an extraordinarily effective spokesman for the interests of Tennessee’s Ninth Congressional District in the House of Representatives. I must, however, express my serious disappointment with the vote you cast October 11th, along with 82 other House Democrats, in favor of authorizing President Bush to use military force, if necessary, to compel Iraq to disband its “weapons of mass destruction” programs.

As an individual citizen and voter, I was deeply disappointed to find your name on the list of those House Democrats who chose to abandon constitutional precedent to vote in favor of the Bush administration’s war agenda. Personally, I am troubled by the fact that a unilateral military removal of Saddam Hussein might reverberate around the world like “a reverse Pearl Harbor,” a phrase used first by another Democrat, Robert F. Kennedy, in explaining why his brother’s administration chose not to launch a pre-emptive strike against Cuba in 1962.

But honorable men can disagree honorably about what should be done about the lunatic Saddam. What they cannot and should not disagree about, however, is the constitutional means required to do whatever we decide, as a nation, to do. And that, sir, is where I think your vote on this matter did a disservice to us, your constituents.

You are surely aware that the Founding Fathers were utterly, completely unambiguous in their intent as to which branch of government exercises the power to declare war: Article One, Section Eight of the U.S. Constitution clearly gives that power to Congress, not the president. The language could not be more direct.

That formidable, frightening power has been evoked, in the past, only when another country has acted in unprovoked fashion against us: Japan, for example, which attacked our Pacific fleet in 1941. On other occasions, in Korea in 1950 and, more recently, against Iraq in 1991, we have taken military action as leaders of United Nations peacekeeping coalitions in which we were fully partnered with that international organization and where we, the United States, were not declaring war on anyone but simply acting with our neighbors to preserve world peace.

But in this case, President Bush has received a blank check to do whatever he wishes in Iraq. This, Congressman Ford, is simply not right. Not that any of us think that Saddam Hussein is a friend of America or anything less than an enormous threat to international stability. “Everybody knows he is a brutal dictator,” said the late Paul Wellstone on the Senate floor just two weeks ago. “That is not the point. The point is how to proceed, how to do this the right way .”

Robert C. Byrd of West Virginia, a 40-year Senate veteran whose reputation as an archetype of Southern conservatism has rarely been questioned, had the same severe reservations about the constitutionality of the Bush war-powers measure as Wellstone. “Congress must not attempt to give away the authority to determine when war is to be declared,” he said in the same debate. “We must not allow any president to unleash the dogs of war at his own discretion and for an unlimited period of time. Yet that is what we are being asked to do. The judgment of history will not be kind to us if we take this step.”

Yet, sadly, that step was taken. Although the views expressed above are entirely my own and not those of The Memphis Flyer, I would point out that more than a few of our staff share my sentiments, as do, interestingly, an overwhelming segment of our readers, at least those who participated in our weekly Internet “Buzz Poll” on the subject. (Readers participating in that poll, published in our October 10th issue, rejected the measure you supported 75 percent to 25 percent.)

I hope you keep our views — my own and a considerable portion of your constituency — in mind as we face the difficult international situation before us. Thank you for reading this.

Kenneth Neill is the publisher of The Memphis Flyer.

Anti-warriors offer nothing but nay

A recent MSNBC poll says 87% of Americans support the military action against terrorism currently being waged in Afghanistan. That’s a huge majority, to be sure, but it begs the question, who are these 37,131,356 dissenters and why haven’t their alternative plans to save the world from both terrorism and war been released? Could it be there are no alternative plans?

There is nothing un-American about protest or dissent. Ever since the first resident of Jamestown muttered to his fellow colonists, “Perfect. Captain John Smith gets Pocahontas and I get dysentery” this land has thrived on debate and the freedoms to air views contrary to government policy are what makes this nation great. But opposition without proposition in a time of war is irresponsible. And opposition without proposition is exactly what we are hearing from the “enlightened” minority who seem to feel flag waving equates to knuckle dragging and the ignorant masses who are supporting the war have got it all wrong.

There seem to be two distinct camps of naysayers in the current Anti-war movement. The “Give Peace a Chancers” and the “Moral Equivalancers”. Neither group is completely wrong in their suppositions but their conclusions are, ultimately, inconclusive.

The “Give Peace a Chancers'” chant is that war is not the answer. Apparently, no answer is the answer and those who committed the atrocities of September 11 should be shown love and not guns. Admittedly, their assertions are somewhat more complicated than that but definitely no less murky and ineffectual.

“If you can see [the terrorists] as a relative who’s dangerously sick and we have to give them medicine, and the medicine is love and compassion.” (Actor Richard Gere)

But is overly simplistic to be against the fighting because war is “evil”. Might not war, under some circumstances, be a necessary evil?

Wars in the last century killed 19 million civilians. Genocide, tyranny, and man-made famine killed 127 million. 6 to 1? I’ll take those odds, any day.

Now, as the conductors of genocide, tyranny and man-made famine do not, as a general rule, stop their genocidal, tyrannical and mass famine-producing behavior until forced to do so (by military opposition, for instance), then perhaps the greatest tool for the preservation of human life and liberty in the last century was the war.

The anti-Gulf War saying was, we all remember,É “No Blood for Oil.” Overly simple, yes, but there was a cogent point behind that phrase. The anti-Terror war folks haven’t been able to garner much backing with their bumper sticker- “No blood for the massacre of thousands and promises from the enemy to kill every American man, woman, and child.” Kinda hard to get behind that sort of mantra.

The Give Peace a Chancers feel that negotiating with our enemies will lead to mutual understanding. But the negotiating leverage between two parties is significantly debilitated when one party swears to God he will kill the other. For example, say what you want about the formation of Israel (research the Hagannah, Irgun and Stern Gang- chilling stuff) but when the PLO promised to drive the Jews into the sea, the Government in Tel Aviv became much less inclined to offer concessions. “Ah, Chairman Arafat, if you will compromise and promise to only drive us into the low-tide surf, we will agree to pull our forces out of the West Bank.”

Similarly, Bin Laden is not offering us much wiggle room when he tells us his ultimate goal is that we die. Still, some Americans want to seek common ground, basically, because the U.S.A. is not perfect either. Granted we are not, but are we really better off dead?

That is the basic precept of the Moral Equivalancers, who believe the misdeeds of the United States, both past and present, preclude us from passing judgement on those who mean to do us harm. True, the United States is guilty as sin for certain things in it’s past. (Though certainly not 1/10th of what Oliver Stone would have you believe). But sacrificing all of our lives as a way to do penance seems a bit much.

Less like true believers, and more like irresolute bandwagoners, the Equivalancers have an affirming catch phrase of their own. “One man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter.” True enough, but mightn’t one man be dead wrong? Some of us are able to discern a difference between the World Trade Center attacks and, say, the Boston Tea Party. Any parallels drawn between Paul Revere and Mohammed Atta are patently absurd and show a complete lack of objectivity in the part of the Equivalencer.

The current anti-Globalization movement around the world today falls into this category. The tenet of their philosophy relative to the current fighting says that U.S. and Western corporate exploitation of less advanced nations has created a festering wound of disadvantaged and angry masses that can easily be tapped into by terrorists cells. This characterization of the roots of the current problem is utterly wrong and smells of expediency by the anti-globalists. The spring of hate from which the present batch of terrorists has been drawn comes from perverted fundamentalist teachings in cloistered religious schools. These young men are not studying macroeconomic theory and then coming to the conclusion that U.S. companies are not paying a competitive wage and therefore the terrorists are justified in killing innocent civilians. No, they are being, in effect, brainwashed by a disciplined indoctrination into Islamic Fundamentalism that promises paradise for those who die in the Jihad.

The anti-war movement says they do not want us to fight. But what, exactly, do they want? Do they want us to die?

No. The fact is, they want the U.S. Government to ignore them and insodoing protect them from danger- all the while appearing enlightened and above such pedestrian pursuits as patriotism and realpolitik by damning the actions carried out on their behalf to save them from evil.

These difficult times require difficult choices. As step 1 of the war (Afghanistan) evolves into discussion of who to step on in step 2, the denunciations against U.S. Foreign policy may well increase and that, in itself, is not a bad thing. But being against something without being for something else is completely ineffectual, unless one’s only goal is to appear progressive, tolerant, or open-minded, at the expense of real and healthy debate. Such self-serving behavior is an American trait that America can now ill afford.

War, by definition, is the ultimate zero sum game. A winner creates a loser. And in this war, the loser’s loss is absolute. If someone knows a viable alternative to war, they should exercise their right and responsibility to be a part of the process and air their opinion. If not, then they should quietly appreciate their tax dollars at work- keeping others from killing them.

(Mark Greaney handles international transactions at Memphis-based Sofamor Danek)

What do Red Sox fans know, anyhow? Compared to the hex hanging over the U of M football Tigers, the Curse of the Bambino is child’s play.

There was just over two minutes left on the clock at the Liberty Bowl last Saturday, on a magnificent autumn afternoon, and Tommy West’s scrambling Tigers had just taken a 34-30 lead over the Cincinnati Wildcats. The old stadium was fairly pulsating with fan enthusiasm, as 26,395 screaming, long-suffering U of M football fans were already celebrating what appeared to be a historic victory, one that would cap the team’s first winning season since 1994.

Not those of us, however, who have long been regulars in Section Eight on the stadium’s north side. No, we knew better than to wax euphoric. As loyal fans of a team whose official theme song ought to be “Cry Me A River,” we understood only too well that you don’t count your chickens before they hatch. We stood rather quietly with the cheering multitudes, smiling, yes, but, well, suspicious. I pointed out to my companions that the afternoon sun was at that very moment perfectly framed on the opposite side of the stadium by one of the section entryways, creating from our perspective an eerie glow inside, much like the solar effects at Stonehenge at the exact moment of the winter solstice.

It’s an omen,” I said, and my friends nodded sagely, all but the 11-year-old son of one, who was screaming at the top of his lungs. “Calm down. Trust us,” we told him wearily, in much the same way that grizzled battle veterans greet newcomers to the trenches, “it ain’t over til it’s over.”

And it wasn’t, of course. After taking over at the Wildcat 20 yard-line, Gino Guidugli marched his charges down the field, quickly and efficiently. Oh, he was blessed by a questionable pass-interference call, but mostly, he was the lucky beneficiary of a Qurse every bit as real as the one that Bostonians say was placed on their team when they traded Babe Ruth, the Bambino, to the Yankees in 1920, and kept them from winning a championship ever since. It’s a Qurse whose impact is, simply, that whenever Memphis is in a close game near the end, the Tigers will always, invariably snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. Just like they did last Saturday. Guidugli completed a Hail-Mary on fourth-and twenty-seven, and put the final nail in our coffin with just four ticks left on the clock, hitting John Olinger with a 13-yard pass in the north corner of the end zone.

Were we dejected? Of course, we were; practically suicidal, in fact. Were we surprised? Of course not. True blue U of M football fans always know that when the chips are on the line, ours will always turn into those of the bovine variety. “That was the same play that Louisville beat us with in 1999, right?” said one of our group dejectedly, as the crowd stood in place, in stunned silence. He was correct, of course. The Tigers had lost 32-31 in the Liberty Bowl that year when Chris Redman threw almost the exact same pass to Lavell Boyd. Oh, there were differences, to be sure. Redman’s pass went 18 yards, not 13. And, hey, we were left with six seconds on the clock, not four. See what I mean?

Over the past three seasons, the Tigers have been perhaps the best losing team in Division One. Unquestionably, ours is the most snake-bitten football program in America. A few bounces here and there, and we would have gone bowling long ago. Hell, we lost eight games in 1999 and 2000, out of a total of thirteen, by the combined margin of — are you ready for this? — twenty points! Less than three touchdowns altogether; win those games, and we go 9-2 and 8-3 those two seasons, respectively. And by the way, these weren’t losses to chumps; besides Louisville, the Qurse made us victims of Ole Miss, Mississippi State, and the Great Orange Evil One itself, Tennessee, not once, but twice.

True-blue Tiger fans remember every excrutiating detail of these games — All- American Ryan White’s first career missed field goal against Ole Miss (we lost 3-0, naturally), UT’s Tee Martin’s 53-yard desperation pass in the waning minutes at Neyland Stadium in 1999 (we lost 17-16), and poor Scott Scherer’s “here, take this” intereception in overtime last year against these same Bearcats (we lost 13-10). I could go on, but nauseau prevents me.

So what about the Qurse, anyway? And why, Kenneth, are you spelling it with a “Q”?

Ah, that’s because I’ve finally figured it all out. It came to me clearly, blindingly, in a flash, during that Stonehenge moment at the Liberty Bowl last Saturday:

It’s all Qadry Anderson’s fault. That’s why we’re laboring under this curse, this malediction, this hex. Call it the Qurse of Qadry.

Memphis football fans know exactly I mean, but let me explain for the rest of you.

Qadry Anderson was the starting quarterback for the Tigers for most of the 1996 season. A senior, this junior-college transfer from Oakland, California, had played sparingly the previous year, and even in his one full season at the helm, Anderson was hardly a world beater. He threw nearly twice as many interceptions (11) in 1996 as he threw touchdown passes (6).

Ah, but one of those six was, indisputably, the greatest touchdown pass ever thrown by a Memphis Tiger. It came with just 34 seconds left in the fourth quarter before 65,885 at the Liberty Bowl on November 9, 1996. The recipient in the end zone of Anderson’s three-yard toss was tight end Chris Powers. And the opponent, of course, was the sixth-ranked Tennessee Volunteers, who fell 21-17, in an upset of such grand proportions that Sports Illustrated would later rank it as one of the top ten of the entire decade.

Qadry Anderson was no Peyton Manning, his illustrious opponent that fabled afternoon. Peyton threw for nearly 300 yards; Qadry had thrown for less than 30 before that last, heroic drive when time stood still, and our Paper Tigers became, at least for a moment, animals of the first order.

This, my friends, is what I think really happened. The offense, such as it was, took over at the UT 31 with just six minutes left in the ball game, trailing 17-14. They had gained just 84 total yards all afternoon, all the Tiger points having come off interceptions, fumbles, and kickoff returns. In the huddle, though, something strange happened. Quadry told his teammates to relax. “Let’s just be calm, guys. We’ve got this game won.” They stared at him in disbelief. “What, is Peyton coming in for our side?” said one exhausted lineman in jest.

Qadry smiled whimsically. “Very funny. No, let’s just say I’ve made a deal.”

“You’ve made a deal. With whom?”

“Sorry, can’t tell you. But, hey, time’s wasting. Let’s go get ’em. Woods, right tackle, on five. Break!”

Well, we all know what happened next. The Tigers sliced and diced their way up field. Anderson himself, limping around on one leg, made a critical fourth-and one quarterback sneak that kept the drive alive, then followed that with a 41-yard bomb — those of us watching couldn’t believe Qadry could throw the ball that far — to Chancy Carr. A couple of plays later, Anderson hit Powers, and the Tigers had an implausible four-point lead. In the last thirty seconds, Manning came back and threw a few desperation passes, but, frankly, he looked more like Qadry Anderson than Peyton Manning. A final interception, and the goalposts came tumbling down.

It was all too perfect, wasn’t it? That’s why I think something fishy happened in that huddle. I’m still not sure what the exact nature of the Faustian bargain Qadry cut with you-know-who on that memorable November afternoon five years ago, but, I swear, we’ve been paying the price ever since. Think this team isn’t cursed? Hey, the facts speak for themselves. The Qurse cost Rip Scherer his job, and if it continues, it’ll cost Tommy West, his coaching successor, his sanity.

That’s why the football Tigers need to blow off spring practice next year and do something far more constructive. Coach West and his impressive quarterback prodigy Danny Wimprine need to spend two or three weeks in New Orleans, searching out Marie Laveau’s successors. Nothing but black magic is gonna get rid of the Qurse of Qadry.

Anybody know where we can find a Philip Fulmer voodoo doll?

What do Red Sox fans know, anyhow? Compared to the hex hanging over the U of M football Tigers, the Curse of the Bambino is child’s play.

There was just over two minutes left on the clock at the Liberty Bowl last Saturday, on a magnificent autumn afternoon, and Tommy West’s scrambling Tigers had just taken a 34-30 lead over the Cincinnati Wildcats. The old stadium was fairly pulsating with fan enthusiasm, as 26,395 screaming, long-suffering U of M football fans were already celebrating what appeared to be a historic victory, one that would cap the team’s first winning season since 1994.

Not those of us, however, who have long been regulars in Section Eight on the stadium’s north side. No, we knew better than to wax euphoric. As loyal fans of a team whose official theme song ought to be “Cry Me A River,” we understood only too well that you don’t count your chickens before they hatch. We stood rather quietly with the cheering multitudes, smiling, yes, but, well, suspicious. I pointed out to my companions that the afternoon sun was at that very moment perfectly framed on the opposite side of the stadium by one of the section entryways, creating from our perspective an eerie glow inside, much like the solar effects at Stonehenge at the exact moment of the winter solstice.

It’s an omen,” I said, and my friends nodded sagely, all but the 11-year-old son of one, who was screaming at the top of his lungs. “Calm down. Trust us,” we told him wearily, in much the same way that grizzled battle veterans greet newcomers to the trenches, “it ain’t over til it’s over.”

And it wasn’t, of course. After taking over at the Wildcat 20 yard-line, Gino Guidugli marched his charges down the field, quickly and efficiently. Oh, he was blessed by a questionable pass-interference call, but mostly, he was the lucky beneficiary of a Qurse every bit as real as the one that Bostonians say was placed on their team when they traded Babe Ruth, the Bambino, to the Yankees in 1920, and kept them from winning a championship ever since. It’s a Qurse whose impact is, simply, that whenever Memphis is in a close game near the end, the Tigers will always, invariably snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. Just like they did last Saturday. Guidugli completed a Hail-Mary on fourth-and twenty-seven, and put the final nail in our coffin with just four ticks left on the clock, hitting John Olinger with a 13-yard pass in the north corner of the end zone.

Were we dejected? Of course, we were; practically suicidal, in fact. Were we surprised? Of course not. True blue U of M football fans always know that when the chips are on the line, ours will always turn into those of the bovine variety. “That was the same play that Louisville beat us with in 1999, right?” said one of our group dejectedly, as the crowd stood in place, in stunned silence. He was correct, of course. The Tigers had lost 32-31 in the Liberty Bowl that year when Chris Redman threw almost the exact same pass to Lavell Boyd. Oh, there were differences, to be sure. Redman’s pass went 18 yards, not 13. And, hey, we were left with six seconds on the clock, not four. See what I mean?

Over the past three seasons, the Tigers have been perhaps the best losing team in Division One. Unquestionably, ours is the most snake-bitten football program in America. A few bounces here and there, and we would have gone bowling long ago. Hell, we lost eight games in 1999 and 2000, out of a total of thirteen, by the combined margin of — are you ready for this? — twenty points! Less than three touchdowns altogether; win those games, and we go 9-2 and 8-3 those two seasons, respectively. And by the way, these weren’t losses to chumps; besides Louisville, the Qurse made us victims of Ole Miss, Mississippi State, and the Great Orange Evil One itself, Tennessee, not once, but twice.

True-blue Tiger fans remember every excrutiating detail of these games — All- American Ryan White’s first career missed field goal against Ole Miss (we lost 3-0, naturally), UT’s Tee Martin’s 53-yard desperation pass in the waning minutes at Neyland Stadium in 1999 (we lost 17-16), and poor Scott Scherer’s “here, take this” intereception in overtime last year against these same Bearcats (we lost 13-10). I could go on, but nauseau prevents me.

So what about the Qurse, anyway? And why, Kenneth, are you spelling it with a “Q”?

Ah, that’s because I’ve finally figured it all out. It came to me clearly, blindingly, in a flash, during that Stonehenge moment at the Liberty Bowl last Saturday:

It’s all Qadry Anderson’s fault. That’s why we’re laboring under this curse, this malediction, this hex. Call it the Qurse of Qadry.

Memphis football fans know exactly I mean, but let me explain for the rest of you.

Qadry Anderson was the starting quarterback for the Tigers for most of the 1996 season. A senior, this junior-college transfer from Oakland, California, had played sparingly the previous year, and even in his one full season at the helm, Anderson was hardly a world beater. He threw nearly twice as many interceptions (11) in 1996 as he threw touchdown passes (6).

Ah, but one of those six was, indisputably, the greatest touchdown pass ever thrown by a Memphis Tiger. It came with just 34 seconds left in the fourth quarter before 65,885 at the Liberty Bowl on November 9, 1996. The recipient in the end zone of Anderson’s three-yard toss was tight end Chris Powers. And the opponent, of course, was the sixth-ranked Tennessee Volunteers, who fell 21-17, in an upset of such grand proportions that Sports Illustrated would later rank it as one of the top ten of the entire decade.

Qadry Anderson was no Peyton Manning, his illustrious opponent that fabled afternoon. Peyton threw for nearly 300 yards; Qadry had thrown for less than 30 before that last, heroic drive when time stood still, and our Paper Tigers became, at least for a moment, animals of the first order.

This, my friends, is what I think really happened. The offense, such as it was, took over at the UT 31 with just six minutes left in the ball game, trailing 17-14. They had gained just 84 total yards all afternoon, all the Tiger points having come off interceptions, fumbles, and kickoff returns. In the huddle, though, something strange happened. Quadry told his teammates to relax. “Let’s just be calm, guys. We’ve got this game won.” They stared at him in disbelief. “What, is Peyton coming in for our side?” said one exhausted lineman in jest.

Qadry smiled whimsically. “Very funny. No, let’s just say I’ve made a deal.”

“You’ve made a deal. With whom?”

“Sorry, can’t tell you. But, hey, time’s wasting. Let’s go get ’em. Woods, right tackle, on five. Break!”

Well, we all know what happened next. The Tigers sliced and diced their way up field. Anderson himself, limping around on one leg, made a critical fourth-and one quarterback sneak that kept the drive alive, then followed that with a 41-yard bomb — those of us watching couldn’t believe Qadry could throw the ball that far — to Chancy Carr. A couple of plays later, Anderson hit Powers, and the Tigers had an implausible four-point lead. In the last thirty seconds, Manning came back and threw a few desperation passes, but, frankly, he looked more like Qadry Anderson than Peyton Manning. A final interception, and the goalposts came tumbling down.

It was all too perfect, wasn’t it? That’s why I think something fishy happened in that huddle. I’m still not sure what the exact nature of the Faustian bargain Qadry cut with you-know-who on that memorable November afternoon five years ago, but, I swear, we’ve been paying the price ever since. Think this team isn’t cursed? Hey, the facts speak for themselves. The Qurse cost Rip Scherer his job, and if it continues, it’ll cost Tommy West, his coaching successor, his sanity.

That’s why the football Tigers need to blow off spring practice next year and do something far more constructive. Coach West and his impressive quarterback prodigy Danny Wimprine need to spend two or three weeks in New Orleans, searching out Marie Laveau’s successors. Nothing but black magic is gonna get rid of the Qurse of Qadry.

Anybody know where we can find a Philip Fulmer voodoo doll?

What do Red Sox fans know, anyhow? Compared to the hex hanging over the U of M football Tigers, the Curse of the Bambino is child’s play.

There was just over two minutes left on the clock at the Liberty Bowl last Saturday, on a magnificent autumn afternoon, and Tommy West’s scrambling Tigers had just taken a 34-30 lead over the Cincinnati Wildcats. The old stadium was fairly pulsating with fan enthusiasm, as 26,395 screaming, long-suffering U of M football fans were already celebrating what appeared to be a historic victory, one that would cap the team’s first winning season since 1994.

Not those of us, however, who have long been regulars in Section Eight on the stadium’s north side. No, we knew better than to wax euphoric. As loyal fans of a team whose official theme song ought to be “Cry Me A River,” we understood only too well that you don’t count your chickens before they hatch. We stood rather quietly with the cheering multitudes, smiling, yes, but, well, suspicious. I pointed out to my companions that the afternoon sun was at that very moment perfectly framed on the opposite side of the stadium by one of the section entryways, creating from our perspective an eerie glow inside, much like the solar effects at Stonehenge at the exact moment of the winter solstice.

It’s an omen,” I said, and my friends nodded sagely, all but the 11-year-old son of one, who was screaming at the top of his lungs. “Calm down. Trust us,” we told him wearily, in much the same way that grizzled battle veterans greet newcomers to the trenches, “it ain’t over til it’s over.”

And it wasn’t, of course. After taking over at the Wildcat 20 yard-line, Gino Guidugli marched his charges down the field, quickly and efficiently. Oh, he was blessed by a questionable pass-interference call, but mostly, he was the lucky beneficiary of a Qurse every bit as real as the one that Bostonians say was placed on their team when they traded Babe Ruth, the Bambino, to the Yankees in 1920, and kept them from winning a championship ever since. It’s a Qurse whose impact is, simply, that whenever Memphis is in a close game near the end, the Tigers will always, invariably snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. Just like they did last Saturday. Guidugli completed a Hail-Mary on fourth-and twenty-seven, and put the final nail in our coffin with just four ticks left on the clock, hitting John Olinger with a 13-yard pass in the north corner of the end zone.

Were we dejected? Of course, we were; practically suicidal, in fact. Were we surprised? Of course not. True blue U of M football fans always know that when the chips are on the line, ours will always turn into those of the bovine variety. “That was the same play that Louisville beat us with in 1999, right?” said one of our group dejectedly, as the crowd stood in place, in stunned silence. He was correct, of course. The Tigers had lost 32-31 in the Liberty Bowl that year when Chris Redman threw almost the exact same pass.to Lavell Boyd. Oh, there were differences, to be sure. Redman’s pass went 18 yards, not 13. And, hey, we were left with six seconds on the clock, not four. See what I mean?

Over the past three seasons, the Tigers have been perhaps the best losing team in Division One. Unquestionably, ours is the most snake-bitten football program in America. A few bounces here and there, and we would have gone bowling long ago. Hell, we lost eight games in 1999 and 2000, out of a total of thirteen, by the combined margin of — are you ready for this? — twenty points! Less than three touchdowns altogether; win those games, and we go 9-2 and 8-3 those two seasons, respectively. And by the way, these weren’t losses to chumps; besides Louisville, the Qurse made us victims of Ole Miss, Mississippi State, and the Great Orange Evil One itself, Tennessee, not once, but twice.

True-blue Tiger fans remember every excrutiating detail of these games — All- American Ryan White’s first career missed field goal against Ole Miss (we lost 3-0, naturally), UT’s Tee Martin’s 53-yard desperation pass in the waning minutes at Neyland Stadium in 1999 (we lost 17-16), and poor Scott Scherer’s “here, take this” intereception in overtime last year against these same Bearcats (we lost 13-10). I could go on, but nauseau prevents me.

So what about the Qurse, anyway? And why, O’Leary, are you spelling it with a “Q”?

Ah, that’s because I’ve finally figured it all out. It came to me clearly, blindingly, in a flash, during that Stonehenge moment at the Liberty Bowl last Saturday:

It’s all Qadry Anderson’s fault. That’s why we’re laboring under this curse, this malediction, this hex. Call it the Qurse of Qadry.

Memphis football fans know exactly I mean, but let me explain for the rest of you.

Qadry Anderson was the starting quarterback for the Tigers for most of the 1996 season. A senior, this junior-college transfer from Oakland, California, had played sparingly the previous year, and even in his one full season at the helm, Anderson was hardly a world beater. He threw nearly twice as many interceptions (11) in 1996 as he threw touchdown passes (6).

Ah, but one of those six was, indisputably, the greatest touchdown pass ever thrown by a Memphis Tiger. It came with just 34 seconds left in the fourth quarter before 65,885 at the Liberty Bowl on November 9, 1996. The recipient in the end zone of Anderson’s three-yard toss was tight end Chris Powers. And the opponent, of course, was the sixth-ranked Tennessee Volunteers, who fell 21-17, in an upset of such grand proportions that Sports Illustrated would later rank it as one of the top ten of the entire decade.

Qadry Anderson was no Peyton Manning, his illustrious opponent that fabled afternoon. Peyton threw for nearly 300 yards; Qadry had thrown for less than 30 before that last, heroic drive when time stood still, and our Paper Tigers became, at least for a moment, animals of the first order.

This, my friends, is what I think really happened. The offense, such as it was, took over at the UT 31 with just six minutes left in the ball game, trailing 17-14. They had gained just 84 total yards all afternoon, all the Tiger points having come off interceptions, fumbles, and kickoff returns. In the huddle, though, something strange happened. Quadry told his teammates to relax. “Let’s just be calm, guys. We’ve got this game won.” They stared at him in disbelief. “What, is Peyton coming in for our side?” said one exhausted lineman in jest.

Qadry smiled whimsically. “Very funny. No, let’s just say I’ve made a deal.”

“You’ve made a deal. With whom?”

“Sorry, can’t tell you. But, hey, time’s wasting. Let’s go get ’em. Woods, right tackle, on five. Break!”

Well, we all know what happened next. The Tigers sliced and diced their way up field. Anderson himself, limping around on one leg, made a critical fourth-and one quarterback sneak that kept the drive alive, then followed that with a 41-yard bomb — those of us watching couldn’t believe Qadry could throw the ball that far — to Chancy Carr. A couple of plays later, Anderson hit Powers, and the Tigers had an implausible four-point lead. In the last thirty seconds, Manning came back and threw a few desperation passes, but, frankly, he looked more like Qadry Anderson than Peyton Manning. A final interception, and the goalposts came tumbling down.

It was all too perfect, wasn’t it? That’s why I think something fishy happened in that huddle. I’m still not sure what the exact nature of the Faustian bargain Qadry cut with you-know-who on that memorable November afternoon five years ago, but, I swear, we’ve been paying the price ever since. Think this team isn’t cursed? Hey, the facts speak for themselves. The Qurse cost Rip Scherer his job, and if it continues, it’ll cost Tommy West, his coaching successor, his sanity.

That’s why the football Tigers need to blow off spring practice next year and do something far more constructive. Coach West and his impressive quarterback prodigy Danny Wimprine need to spend two or three weeks in New Orleans, searching out Marie Laveau’s successors. Nothing but black magic is gonna get rid of the Qurse of Qadry.

Anybody know where we can find a Philip Fulmer voodoo doll?

THE QURSE OF QADRY?

What do Red Sox fans know, anyhow? Compared to the hex hanging over the U of M football Tigers, the Curse of the Bambino is child’s play.

by John O’Leary

There was just over two minutes left on the clock at the Liberty Bowl last Saturday, on a magnificent autumn afternoon, and Tommy West’s scrambling Tigers had just taken a 34-30 lead over the Cincinnati Wildcats. The old stadium was fairly pulsating with fan enthusiasm, as 26,395 screaming, long-suffering U of M football fans were already celebrating what appeared to be a historic victory, one that would cap the team’s first winning season since 1994.

Not those of us, however, who have long been regulars in Section Eight on the stadium’s north side. No, we knew better than to wax euphoric. As loyal fans of a team whose official theme song ought to be “Cry Me A River,” we understood only too well that you don’t count your chickens before they hatch. We stood rather quietly with the cheering multitudes, smiling, yes, but, well, suspicious. I pointed out to my companions that the afternoon sun was at that very moment perfectly framed on the opposite side of the stadium by one of the section entryways, creating from our perspective an eerie glow inside, much like the solar effects at Stonehenge at the exact moment of the winter solstice.

“It’s an omen,” I said, and my friends nodded sagely, all but the 11-year-old son of one, who was screaming at the top of his lungs. “Calm down. Trust us,” we told him wearily, in much the same way that grizzled battle veterans greet newcomers to the trenches, “it ain’t over til it’s over.”

And it wasn’t, of course. After taking over at the Wildcat 20 yard-line, Gino Guidugli marched his charges down the field, quickly and efficiently. Oh, he was blessed by a questionable pass-interference call, but mostly, he was the lucky beneficiary of a Qurse every bit as real as the one that Bostonians say was placed on their team when they traded Babe Ruth, the Bambino, to the Yankees in 1920, and kept them from winning a championship ever since. It’s a Qurse whose impact is, simply, that whenever Memphis is in a close game near the end, the Tigers will always, invariably snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. Just like they did last Saturday. Guidugli completed a Hail-Mary on fourth-and twenty-seven, and put the final nail in our coffin with just four ticks left on the clock, hitting John Olinger with a 13-yard pass in the north corner of the end zone.

Were we dejected? Of course, we were; practically suicidal, in fact. Were we surprised? Of course not. True blue U of M football fans always know that when the chips are on the line, ours will always turn into those of the bovine variety. “That was the same play that Louisville beat us with in 1999, right?” said one of our group dejectedly, as the crowd stood in place, in stunned silence. He was correct, of course. The Tigers had lost 32-31 in the Liberty Bowl that year when Chris Redman threw almost the exact same pass.to Lavell Boyd. Oh, there were differences, to be sure. Redman’s pass went 18 yards, not 13. And, hey, we were left with six seconds on the clock, not four. See what I mean?

Over the past three seasons, the Tigers have been perhaps the best losing team in Division One. Unquestionably, ours is the most snake-bitten football program in America. A few bounces here and there, and we would have gone bowling long ago. Hell, we lost eight games in 1999 and 2000, out of a total of thirteen, by the combined margin of — are you ready for this? — twenty points! Less than three touchdowns altogether; win those games, and we go 9-2 and 8-3 those two seasons, respectively. And by the way, these weren’t losses to chumps; besides Louisville, the Qurse made us victims of Ole Miss, Mississippi State, and the Great Orange Evil One itself, Tennessee, not once, but twice.

True-blue Tiger fans remember every excrutiating detail of these games — All- American Ryan White’s first career missed field goal against Ole Miss (we lost 3-0, naturally), UT’s Tee Martin’s 53-yard desperation pass in the waning minutes at Neyland Stadium in 1999 (we lost 17-16), and poor Scott Scherer’s “here, take this” intereception in overtime last year against these same Bearcats (we lost 13-10). I could go on, but nauseau prevents me.

So what about the Qurse, anyway? And why, O’Leary, are you spelling it with a “Q”?

Ah, that’s because I’ve finally figured it all out. It came to me clearly, blindingly, in a flash, during that Stonehenge moment at the Liberty Bowl last Saturday:

It’s all Qadry Anderson’s fault. That’s why we’re laboring under this curse, this malediction, this hex. Call it the Qurse of Qadry.

Memphis football fans know exactly I mean, but let me explain for the rest of you.

Qadry Anderson was the starting quarterback for the Tigers for most of the 1996 season. A senior, this junior-college transfer from Oakland, California, had played sparingly the previous year, and even in his one full season at the helm, Anderson was hardly a world beater. He threw nearly twice as many interceptions (11) in 1996 as he threw touchdown passes (6).

Ah, but one of those six was, indisputably, the greatest touchdown pass ever thrown by a Memphis Tiger. It came with just 34 seconds left in the fourth quarter before 65,885 at the Liberty Bowl on November 9, 1996. The recipient in the end zone of Anderson’s three-yard toss was tight end Chris Powers. And the opponent, of course, was the sixth-ranked Tennessee Volunteers, who fell 21-17, in an upset of such grand proportions that Sports Illustrated would later rank it as one of the top ten of the entire decade.

Qadry Anderson was no Peyton Manning, his illustrious opponent that fabled afternoon. Peyton threw for nearly 300 yards; Qadry had thrown for less than 30 before that last, heroic drive when time stood still, and our Paper Tigers became, at least for a moment, animals of the first order.

This, my friends, is what I think really happened. The offense, such as it was, took over at the UT 31 with just six minutes left in the ball game, trailing 17-14. They had gained just 84 total yards all afternoon, all the Tiger points having come off interceptions, fumbles, and kickoff returns. In the huddle, though, something strange happened. Quadry told his teammates to relax. “Let’s just be calm, guys. We’ve got this game won.” They stared at him in disbelief. “What, is Peyton coming in for our side?” said one exhausted lineman in jest.

Qadry smiled whimsically. “Very funny. No, let’s just say I’ve made a deal.”

“You’ve made a deal. With whom?”

“Sorry, can’t tell you. But, hey, time’s wasting. Let’s go get ’em. Woods, right tackle, on five. Break!”

Well, we all know what happened next. The Tigers sliced and diced their way up field. Anderson himself, limping around on one leg, made a critical fourth-and one quarterback sneak that kept the drive alive, then followed that with a 41-yard bomb — those of us watching couldn’t believe Qadry could throw the ball that far — to Chancy Carr. A couple of plays later, Anderson hit Powers, and the Tigers had an implausible four-point lead. In the last thirty seconds, Manning came back and threw a few desperation passes, but, frankly, he looked more like Qadry Anderson than Peyton Manning. A final interception, and the goalposts came tumbling down.

It was all too perfect, wasn’t it? That’s why I think something fishy happened in that huddle. I’m still not sure what the exact nature of the Faustian bargain Qadry cut with you-know-who on that memorable November afternoon five years ago, but, I swear, we’ve been paying the price ever since. Think this team isn’t cursed? Hey, the facts speak for themselves. The Qurse cost Rip Scherer his job, and if it continues, it’ll cost Tommy West, his coaching successor, his sanity.

That’s why the football Tigers need to blow off spring practice next year and do something far more constructive. Coach West and his impressive quarterback prodigy Danny Wimprine need to spend two or three weeks in New Orleans, searching out Marie Laveau’s successors. Nothing but black magic is gonna get rid of the Qurse of Qadry.

Anybody know where we can find a Philip Fulmer voodoo doll?

The second-month anniversary last weekend of “the events of September 11th” coincided, of course, with Veteran’s Day, a holiday originally known as Armistice Day, celebrating the date in 1918 when hostilities ceased at the end of World War I. After four-plus years of previously-unimaginable carnage, millions of soldiers and civilians breathed a gigantic sigh of relief, pledging to celebrate November 11th as a day of peace as long as human memory persisted.

Of course, that generation didn’t call the conflict just ended “World War I.” Back then it was called, simply and eloquently, “The Great War.” Our history books tell us, though, that peace proved elusive, and that the rest of the twentieth century brought an even more horrible world war, as well as myriad other genocides, holocausts, and barbarisms. “War is hell,” famously said the Civil War’s General Sherman. The twentieth century proved his comment an understatement.

Not surprisingly, those who endured the First and Second World Wars were never given to flippancy in their use of the “W” word. War for them was, if not quite General Sherman’s hell, a long, long way from business as usual. That was undoubtedly one reason why President Harry Truman took pains in 1950 to characterize our country’s involvement in defense of South Korea as a “police action.” War was the last thing contemporary Americans wanted. Preserve us from more of that, please, they said.

Now, a half century later, under the leadership of a president whose own nickname, ironically, is “W,” we throw the “war” word around like a poker chip. Every tv network has its own euphemism for exactly what it is were involved in today: “America’s New War,” they all say in one variation or another.

It is a given, then, that we are “at war.” Whatever hawk/dove debates we have today focus almost entirely upon the prosecution of the conflict. There is virtually universal acceptance that this “war” is just, reasonable, and, ultimately, the only course we can pursue to avenge the outrages of September 11th, and to prevent such outrages in the future.

At the risk of appearing shamefully unpatriotic, then, allow me to take exception to this premise. There truly was another course we might have taken, a course we fatefully chose not to pursue in the immediate aftermath of September 11th. Time will tell if this “road not taken” will be one we can and will eventually revisit. Perhaps things will all work out, and a revisitation will be unnecessary. In the meantime, we might hold our breaths, and hope we can wiggle our way out of the present situation with mimimal damage to our national interests.

If Korea was a “war” masquerading as a “police action,” this current conflict is a police action masquerading as a war. Who says so? Well, let’s start with Mr. Noah Webster. In the dictionary, he defines war as “a state of open and declared armed hostile conflict between states or nations.”

We may not have the appropriate acts of Congress in place, but Mr. Bush has certainly made clear his intention to use arms in aggressive fashion. So consider us, Mr. Webster, “declared.” And consider the bombs we are dropping left and right, day and night, on the state and/or nation of Afghanistan, an indicator that open and armed hostile action has commenced.

So that puts us “at war” with Afghanistan, right? Well, not exactly. We have taken considerable pains to explain that we are not at war with the people of Afghanistan, but with the Taliban, the “evil ones” who shelter the ultimate Evil One, Usama Bin Laden. Hence, the bombs. Hence, the bellicose rhetoric.

But the Taliban is the government of the Afghan nation, right? Well, not exactly, again, unless you consider legal recognition by just three of the United Nations’ 189 members a ringing international endorsement. The Taliban control much of what once was the unified country of Afghanistan, but do so, we are told, in dictatorial fashion, without a popular mandate. And without any international standing.

Indeed, our declaring war on Mullah Omar’s crowd is a bit like our declaring war on Columbia’s drug traffickers. Like the Taliban (who also know a few things about narcotics), Columbian drug lords control wide swaths of that nation’s territory, maintaining their own militias and intimidating the population. And like the terrorists given shelter by the Taliban, the drug cartels, in their own way, have wreaked havoc upon America.

One can carry the parallels too far, obviously, but over the past thirty years, the drug “war” has claimed tens of thousands of American victims. They may have perished far less visibly — and many far less innocently, to be sure — than those who died in the World Trade Center. But they are all just as dead.

So when do we start bombing Cali? I don’t mean to sound flip, but think about it. Bombing Afghanistan has made most of us feel better; it certainly has provided an outlet of sorts for the justifiable rage that September 11th inspired in us all. But it also gives our enemies a dignity they hardly deserve. The Taliban are illegitimate thugs, and we elevate them beyond telling by declaring any kind of “war” on their operations.

But here we are, nevertheless. So what was the alternative to this approach, to this overblown, hyperpatriotic “War on Terrorism” upon which we have now so recklessly embarked?

For starters, the alternative approach wouldn’t have been easy. It would have required calm, logic, and a substantial degree of national humility, commodities all in short supply, understandably, in the days after September 11th.

We can be sure, however, that this was the alternative that virtually all of our Western allies wished we would have taken. That’s because it’s the one that’s worked best in the past. It was the alternative favored by President Truman in 1950, and ironically, by President Bush Senior in 1990: the alternative of working through and with the United Nations to achieve our legitimate foreign-policy interests. However imperfect the world political organization is (and god knows, it’s that), it’s the only one we’ve got. And it’s just the kind of organization required for the task at hand.

Both in Korea and in the Gulf War, we went to bat — within the UN Security Council — in defense of countries (South Korea and Kuwait) who were clearly and obviously the victims of aggression. This time, we were ourselves the victims of aggression. And we missed a golden opportunity to unite the world behind us in a battle that can and must eventually be fought on the international playing field, not just our own.

It would have been easier for us to take this approach, of course, if we as a people could truly understand that one country declaring war on terrorism is a little bit like one nation declaring war on rain. Myopic as usual, the American people — aided and abetted by an equally myopic media — act as if terrorism became, for the first time, a matter of real international concern only after September 11th.

But just ask any Northern Irishman who’s seen or heard a car bomb go off in his neighborhood, or, worse yet, an incendiary device blow up his favorite pub. Better yet, ask any Rwandan, or any Bosnian, if they understand the meaning of the word “terrorism.” Ask anybody who was in Munich in 1972. Ask Nelson Mandela. Ask the families from around the world who were widowed and orphaned when PanAm Flight 103 fell out of the sky over Lockerbie in 1988

No, terrorism is not new. And it’s nothing that can be opposed unilaterally, by one nation doing it “on its own.” Unilateralism in this case will get us nowhere. The last time we decided to “go it alone,” we were fighting an equally amorphous war, a war against communism. The place was Vietnam, and we all know how that turned out.

That’s how and why we blew it on September 12th and 13th. Instead of — or better yet, in addition to — breaking out the flags and singing “God Bless America,” we should have gone straight to the United Nations’ Security Council with a request for international support, and with an offer to take the leadership of an unprecedented worldwide effort on behalf of the entire planet’s civilian population. We should have asked for a mandate to root out any and all networks of persons whose political agendas sanction the use of violence against innocent men, women and children.

Getting UN approval for such an approach — rather than an American “war against terrorism” — would have been a piece of cake, at least at the Security Council level. More importantly, it would have transformed what is now virtually a solo effort into an international police action of the first order. Nearly every major nation in the world has spoken out against terrorism; how much better could the campaign against terrorism have been waged had those states all been truly part of a coordinated effort, as components of a multi-national, anti-terrorism strike force organized and led by the United States?

Much better, I would suggest. We may not have dropped as many bombs on Afghanistan by now, but we would clearly have avoided the kind of polarization in the Islamic world that is, as numerous commentators have observed, the single most dangerous aspect of our present situation. And we would have avoided turning a legitimate, necessary campaign for the elimination of international terrorism into a “war” between those who want to smite the “Evil Satan” and those determined to nail the “Evil One.”

A struggle between dueling evils will get us nowhere fast. Let’s put the “W” word back on the shelf, and figure out how to get back on the track towards a truly international approach. Then let’s take out Bin Laden, all of us together.

(Kenneth Neill is the publisher/CEO of Contemporary Media, Inc., parent company of The Memphis Flyer. He is also the author of several world-history textbooks, including Perspectives on the Past, first published in 1989 and still in wide use in American secondary schools.