October, 1995 – I was a wide-eyed college freshman at a small private university in Kansas. My first time away from home and I was eager to experience all there was to offer. Although our school was tiny, with little over 800 students, we were very close to Lawrence and the University of Kansas.
During pre-race inspections for the Daytona 500, Michael Waltrip’s car failed.On closer inspection, a clear foreign substance was discovered in the car’s intake manifold. It was later revealed that the substance was an illegal fuel booster designed to add more oxygen to the fuel’s mixture thus generating more horsepower – a steroid for cars.
Waltrip denied knowing about the illegal substance that had been placed in his car and as a result Waltrip’s crew chief was suspended indefinitely and a $100,000 fine levied on Waltrip Racing – the largest such penalty in NASCAR. But that is simply not enough.
By now everyone has heard and everyone is talking.
Former NBA player John Amaechi has revealed the he is a gay man, becoming the first current or retired NBA player to admit to being homosexual.
This revelation thrust the issue of homosexuality in sports out into the open. The admittance sparked questions and emotions from NBA players, coaches and fans.
But does sexual orientation really matter in the testosterone-fueled world of professional sports? After all, we are in 2007.
Most athletes and coaches have said “no,” it doesn’t matter. Current NBA players have said that as long as that player is putting up numbers and helping to contribute to wins, sexual orientation wouldn’t make a difference in how that player is treated.
Although their intentions are good I find the statement hard to believe.
Monday is my favorite day of the week.
During the NFL season there is nothing better than pouring over all of the details, stats and minutiae churned out of Sunday’s action. I like drinking a cup of coffee and reading the paper on Monday mornings. I like to point at the sports page while complaining to my wife that these guys “don’t know what they’re talking about,” over a clumsy mouthful of toast (and although she won’t admit it, she appreciates my expertise).
I especially like when the mail arrives on Mondays because that is when I get my weekly Sports Illustrated in all its glossy non-computer screen glory.
Now I am one of these guys that reads the magazine from back-to-front. I like to start with Rick Reilly’s column and work my way forward. A quick reverse thumb-through on my way in from the mailbox sets up my reading strategy. But one of the greatest features of the magazine isn’t contained within the glossy pages – it is the magazine’s cover. There isn’t anything particularly unique about the cover it is usually just an action shot of an athlete from the heat of competition.
Within the framework of the cover photo is an ever-developing storyline that exists just beneath the surface, a story line that no athlete wants to be a part of. A storyline with so much influence and power that the magazine once ran a cover shot stating “The cover shot no one wants to pose for.” Complete with black cat.
Yes folks – the dreaded SI jinx.
