Acceptable sports dealings still only in dream world
Brian Churney
On the Hot Corner
Some people dream about fame and fortune. Others dream about love and success.
I dream about sports; not what sports are, but what they could be.
I dream of a world where designated hitters cease to exist, where intra-league play is sufficient, and where sports are played on grass.
I dream of a world where Kurt Warner starts in every city and Albert Belle lives in exile.
I dream of a world where luxury boxes are reserved for old people and young children who can't handle the inclement weather, where corporate seats cost more and are farther away from the field than the cheap seats. I dream of a world where buying a hot dog and a beer doesn't require a credit card.
I dream of a free agency-less world.
I dream of a world where the only "early entrants" to the drafts are players that were kicked out of college, where the NCAA cares more about the well-being of its athletes than it did about the well-being of its pocketbook and a world where agents and illegal contributing boosters don't exist.
I dream of a world without Kim Dunbar.
I dream of a world where the best 64 teams get invited to the dance, the best 16 teams compete in a college football tournament, and the NBA and NHL tournaments don't last as long as the season.
I dream of a world where the Orange Bowl is simply the Orange Bowl, not the FedEx Tropicana Exxon Nike Orange Bowl.
I dream of a world where all sports are played with the passion and integrity of ultimate Frisbee with players fighting to win, but calling their own fouls.
I dream of a world where Bobby Knight has to put on a uniform and play for himself.
I dream of a world where the mascots, the referees, the coaches and the fans stop thinking that they are the reason people paid to watch the game.
I dream of a world where boxing is less fake than wrestling.
I dream of a world where more than two steps is traveling, the strike zone is marked by the numbers and the knees and Michael Jordan gets called for the same fouls as Bryon Russell.
I dream of a world where someone who hits .350 gets paid as much as someone who hits 50 homeruns, where everyone knows the names of offensive lineman and where fielding and man-to-man defense are used as criteria to give away MVP trophies.
I dream of a world where the Pirates and Expos can win a title and where the Cubs, Red Sox, Clippers, Seahawks and whatever team Dan Marino is on actually win titles.
I dream of a world where Little League is played, run and watched solely by kids. I dream of a world where athletes still smile like Little Leaguers.
I dream of a world where all players chew gum instead of tobacco, only hit people on the court and don't curse at fans.
I dream of a world where the Olympics happen every four months instead of four years.
I dream of a world where hard work rather than genetics determines if you can succeed, the only steroids are iron plates and the only personal trainers are your parents.
I dream of a world filled with Camden Yards and Wrigley Fields, lacking retractable roofs; a world where wind chill is the only form of air-conditioning.
I dream of watching Super Bowls being played in Buffalo and Green Bay.
I dream of a world with only wooden bats, catcher's masks that look like catcher's masks instead of goalie masks and pant legs are pulled up to the knee.
I dream of a world where players spend less time worrying about contracts and end zone dances and more time about winning and being a role model.
I dream of a world without Latrell Spreewell, without Rae Caruth, without Dennis Rodman, without Isaiah Rider.
I dream of a world where my younger sister has the same opportunities and garners the same amount of respect as if she was my younger brother.
I dream of a world where the game is still considered a game, played not for fortune or fame, but for the love of the game.
The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.
All Sports Stories for Thursday, March 30, 2000
