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The Citizen, 1998-12-09, Page 5Arthur Black International Scene By Raymond Canon THE CITIZEN, WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 9, 1998. PAGE 5. The wonderful game of bloopers This is probably the toughest time of year for the dedicated non-sports fan. The football season is in full campaign with the Grey Cup and the Vanier Cup just fading in the rear- view mirror and the never-ending 'Bowls' (Rose, Gator, Orange, Hula, etcetera) just over the horizon. The National Hockey League season is grinding through its interminable season — and tennis, golf and car racing we have with us always. You might infer, from the snide tone of the above, that I am not a major sports fan. Untrue. I am a passionate follower of a particular sector of the Sports Business that overlaps all venues. The Play By Play Announcers Blooper Invitational. I collect classic sports announcer boners — and there's a fruitful orchard in which to do my plucking. My favourite so far this year: Last spring, Larry Frattare broke into his broadcast coverage of a Pittsburgh Pirates game to lament the untimely death of the great black actor James Earl Jones. I thought he was just tremendous in (the baseball film) Field of Dreams Frattare intoned. "We're going to miss him." - Frattare's eulogy was premature. James Earl Jones was — and is — alive and well. The chap who died was white racist James Earl Ray, the assassin of Martin Luther King. Crossing borders Have you ever had an interesting experience (or a terrifying one) when crossing a border? There is frequently something intimidating about being questioned as if you were presumed guilty until proven innocent. There is also the unknown, and your imagination may run away with you on this one. I have lost count of the number of different borders I have crossed, but some of the most memorable crossings occurred during the trip I made from St. Gall in Switzerland to Moscow at the height of the cold war. There was, of course, no problem until we reached the Czechoslovakian border, where we waited for about two hours while our car was prodded, our passports were checked (pardon the pun) any number of times and Prague was phoned to make sure that our visas were real. It was easy at the Polish border, but the fun began when we entered the Soviet Union, where they mistook my little Renault for a mini-bus. Getting out through Finland three weeks later was also anything but boring, and I like to think of the experience as an informative, if painful, one. I did learn that none of the Communist border guards have any sense of humour. On the other hand, getting into Communist Yugoslavia was a cinch. I was going there to do a series .of articles on Tito's version of Oh, well. All those James Earls look alike anyway. Foot In Mouth disease is not an affliction restricted to sports announcers south of the border. Frank Selke Jr., once had his moment of truth in a between-periods interview with a young fan during a Canadiens-Ranger hockey game. "Did you have a nice Christmas?" Selke- asked the youngster. "No" "Why not?" SeIke persisted. "I'm Jewish," the lad explained. Curt Gowdy got into hot — or at least deep — Water while broadcasting an AFL All Star game a few years back. The football field had been deluged with rain prior to the game, leaving huge puddles everywhere. "If there's a big pileup out there," observed Gowdy, "they'll have to give some players artificial insemination." Sports broadcaster Jerry Coleman was interviewing the wife of a famous baseball player during a Yankees/Baltimore game about the hardships of being a Baseball Wife. "When he's on the road I have to take care of everything. I'm pretty much the man of the family," said the woman. "Ah," said Coleman, "so you have to wear the pants in the family." "That's right," the wife agreed, "but when he comes home I take them off." And I'm sure Jim McKay of ABC's Wide World of Sports would like to have a second chance at covering the World Barrel Jumping Championships of 1986. "Leo Lebel has been competing with a pulled stomach muscle," McKay told TV watchers. communism but the border guards let me in without blinking an eyelash. Come to think of it, though, getting out was anything but easy. I found that the train. that was supposed to get me to Thessalonaki, Greece only went to the Greek border. There was no other train! I spent the whole night on a bench in the local train-station and went over the border the next morning, courtesy of a Greek locomotive which had come to get a few freight cars. When I came to Europe this fall, I went into Austria from Switzerland by way of Oberriet, which is not one of your major crossing points. The Austrian border guard, perhaps bored by the lack of traffic, .stopped me when he saw my Canadian passport. "Where do you live?" he asked. "London," I replied. "Where is that'?" he inquired. "Near Toronto." "Ach, Toronto!" he exclaimed'. "I am a fan of the Toronto Maple Leafs." Until the next car came along, he spent all the time talking about prospects of the Leafs and even then he made the next car wait a while . . . all this in an Austrian accent I could cut with a knife. Perhaps the Leafs would like to know that they have at least one fan in Austria. My next crossing was also something of a surprise. Travelling from Switzerland to Vienna, the fastest route is to go part of the way through Germany. At the German border, the large customs sheds were all boarded up. I wondered why until I "He's showing a lot of guts." Then there was the fellow covering a PGA Golf Classic as Billy Casper approached the tee. "Billy, usually an expert putter, seems to be having difficulty with his long putts," he murmured into the microphone, adding thoughtfully "However he has no trouble dropping his shorts". Sportscaster Chris Schenkel must still wince whenever he recalls his remark during a Honolulu football game. As the TV camera lingered on a particularly fetching blonde in the stands, Schenkel turned to his co-anchor saying, "Bud, isn't that the young lady who gave us a lei before the game?" My all-time favourite? I heard it on a live, national TV football broadcast about 15years ago. The sportscaster, who shall remain mercifully nameless, was covering the last dramatic seconds of the fourth quarter. His play by play went like this: "He's fading back to pass . . . he's going deep...IT'S INTERCEPTED ON THE 30- YARD LINE! Mullins has the ball ... he's to the 40 . . he crosses mid-field Now he's at the 50 ... the 40 . he dodges a tackle He's running well ...To the 30 ... the 20 ... LOOKIT THAT SONNOVABITCH RUN!" It is perhaps unfair to hold sports announcers up to the same standards as say, Lloyd Robertson or Peter Mansbridge. Sports commentators aren't hired for their knowledge of current events. As football quarterback-turned- commentator so eloquently put it: "Nobody in football should be called a genius. A genius is a guy like Norman Einstein." remembered that a recent agreement, the Schlengen Accord, removed all customs controls at certain borders, of which one was between Austria and Germany. It certainly seemed strange to cross a border without even stopping. When I was studying in Germany in the 1950s, I once crossed into Germany from Austria. The German guard got really upset because he could only count five entry stamps into Austria although he counted six exit stamps from Germany. He tried to make me account for it. I explained that I had once gone from Berschtesgaten to Salzburg, and the Austrians had just waved the bus through. He then proceeded to tell what he thought of Austrian border guards. It wasn't complimentary. When I came across the Finnish border in 1960, there was only one border guard to receive us. I spoke no Finnish but, when he saw our Canadian passports, he promptly spoke in Canadian English. It turned out that he had lived in Canada when he was young and had returned to Finland with his family. It is, indeed, a small world! A Final Thought To be able to practise five things everywhere under heaven constitutes perfect virtue . . . (They are) gravity, generosity of soul, sincerity, earnestness and kindness. — Confucius The short of it By Bonnie Gropp Green great to me The treats are in the freezer, the presents are wrapped, the cards are signed. All that's left is to sit down and enjoy the Christmas tree, decked out in its festive finery, beads, and ornaments, sparkling lights. Unfortunately, I don't seem to have the time. I don't mind being busy, but frankly the past few weeks, and those still to come are definitely upsetting my equilibrium. As a person who needs to be reminded just to ,go with the flow, I'm less than enthused by the turn my life is taking. This has been no gentle ride on calm waters; it's more like getting caught in rapids. The only bright spot for me and it's a big one, has been winter's reluctance to present its ugly facade. Call me selfish, call me foolish, but whether 'tis the season or not, I don't need snow. A -nice gentleman the other day reminded me that farmers could use the snow, And friends and folk say they can't get in the Christmas spirit without the transformation of everything green to everything white. But me, I'm just glad to be able to see the road. As I said I've been busy, and most of that can be attributed to travel, though as my mother pointed out, at least this does give me an opportunity to sit down. Nonetheless, in the past week I've been to Auburn and Londesboro twice, back and forth from Blyth to Brussels eight times, Goderich, Wingham, Stratford, Walkerton, Listowel and Milvertori. Tack on the little treks here and there with kids, sandwiched between daytime work and evening meetings and there hasn't even been a minute to light the tree, let alone enjoy it. And this week promises nothing different. I'm just trying to see one day to the next, and so, the last thing I want is flakes obsuring my vision. Personally, I've never really been that concerned about the white Christmas package. For us, and many others, getting together means travelling some distance, or waiting at home for family members who are. I remember leaving my brother's one year and with four young childen in the car endured a harrowing two hours. Everyone knows how scary it can be getting caught in that. Scarier yet, is knowing family's out there in that winter wonderland. I recall an early Christmas morning when my parents headed out into stormy weather to be with family. Common sense said it wasn't worth the risk, but they, like many others before took the chance. For those waiting and wondering the minutes pass slowly. So, I know all too Well that those yearned for white Christmases can often get a little too white. Granted what's most amazing in this world is its wondrous variety, its mysteries and surprises. We accept gratefully life's gifts and grudgingly what it dumps on us. And even l would have to agree that a snowy Christmas morning epitomizes enchanting. But I also have no struggle in seeing the positives of this snowless season we're enjoying thus far. A picturesque ideal cannot soften winter's harsh realities enough for me. So I'm sorry for my selfishness, but I'm putting in a bid for a white Valentine's Day. By then, people seem to have fewer places to go and even I should be spending less time on the road.