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The Citizen, 2003-05-07, Page 5THE CITIZEN, WEDNESDAY, MAY 7, 2003. PAGE 5. Other Views Talking about jock talk I suppose this is as good a place as any to make a shocking confession: I am a huge sports fan. But not the usual kind of sports fan. I couldn’t tell you who Won the Grey Cup last year or who plays goal for the Oilers these days. For all I know the Toronto Raptors are a Bay Street law firm and Tiger Woods is the name of a state park in India. I don’t follow the performances of hockey, baseball and basketball marquee maestros on ice, diamond or court. It’s the off-field verbal antics of these clay-footed idols I prize. I’m talking about Jock Talk. The Grievous Gaffes and Monstrous Misspeakings that often ensue when a megastar mistakenly puts his tongue in gear before his brain has left the starting gate. The Gretzkys, Griffeys and McGradys may be magicians with hockey sticks, baseball bats and basketballs but if they were getting paid for what happens when they open their mouths, most of these superstars would be riding the nether end of a bench in the bush leagues. Don’t get me wrong — they’re great entertainers. They should just be discouraged from moving their lips near an open microphone, is all. Shaquille O’Neal is a case in point. On returning from a European tour with the U.S. Olympic Basketball Club, a reporter asked him if he’d been to the Coliseum when he passed through Rome. “I don’t know, man” drawled Shaq, “I can’t remember all the nightclubs we went to.” There was a time when such pronounce­ ments were just innocently funny. A chap by Tories have needed hero Ontario’s Progressive Conservative government has found a hero and it is making the most of it. Health Minister Tony Clement returned to the legislature, after helping persuade the World Health Organization to lift its warning against travel to Toronto because of SARS, to the most rapturous welcome given a minister in memory. The drama was heightened because a new session was starting and the lieutenant governor was reading the Speech from the Throne. Dressed-up representatives of the establishment rubbed shoulders with political fixers in extra seats jammed on the legislature floor and the silence was such you could have heard an earring drop. Partway through the reading, the diminutive Clement scurried through them all to his seat, having just flown from Geneva, kissing Deputy Premier Elizabeth Witmer on his right and Training, Colleges and Universities Minister Dianne Cunningham on his left, a human touch that did nothing to hurt his party. Tory MPPs led by Premier Ernie Eves quickly started a standing ovation that became prolonged. They needed something to go right for them because their party has fallen to its lowest popularity since elected in 1995 and faces an election. Most opposition MPPs joined in, either because they felt Clement deserved it or did not want to seem to begrudge the speedy end to the crisis. It was like Caesar returning from the wars — the only thing missing was captured enemies in chains. MPPs have given standing ovations before, routinely to new and retiring leaders, sometimes to others leaving and on rare occasions when legislation is introduced that all parties embrace. Arthur Black the name of Lawrence Peter Berra - better known as Yogi — used to play backstop for the New York Yankees. He also used to delight sports writers with hilarious malapropisms, such as: “If people don’t want to come out to the ball park, nobody’s gonna stop them”. “You can observe a lot by just watching”. And my favourite: “When you come to a fork in the road, take it.” But Yogi Berra was a roly-poly, loveable guy from another era who laughed at himself with ease. Everybody adored him - partly because they knew he made only a little bit more than the average working stiff down at the Ford Plant. Today’s one-dimensional, multi-millionaire sporting types are...less loveable. And that’s why there’s something delicious in watching our modern sports demi-gods launch themselves on a vanity rant, only to trip over their own subsidized shoelaces. Such as? Well, how about golfer Greg Norman, responding to a query as to where his great physical gifts come from: “I owe a lot to my parents,” intoned Greg. “Especially my mother and father.” And who can forget former Montreal Expos outfielder Andre Dawson explaining to a reporter his ‘higher calling’ as a role model for youth: “I want all the kids to look up to me,” Eric Dowd From Queen’s Park The ovations do not necessarily reflect MPPs’ real feelings. Eves’s predecessor, Mike Harris, got a standing ovation from all parties when he retired and New Democrat MPPs, who detested his right-wing policies, chanted a ditty about how he soon would be golfing with the boys, trying to mask their dislike. Bob Rae, when NDP opposition leader and paying tribute to retiring Tory William Davis, the longest-serving premier of recent times, said in a less formal setting he would have liked to shake Davis’s hand, then broke protocol and walked across the floor and did so. Davis also got a standing ovation from all parties when he returned after helping secure the agreement by which the Constitution could be amended in Canada instead of Britain. But it is difficult to recall someone of lesser rank than premier entering the legislature after being judged to have handled a specific task well and being given a standing ovation by some in all parties. Clement has given some needed cheer to his party. The health minister was praised widely and particularly by news media for handling SARS, while Eves was accused of being slow to react. Clement was pictured on newspapers’ front pages carrying his bag to the plane to fight for Ontario abroad, while Eves got his picture on front pages only when accused of wearing a surgical mask unnecessarily and prolonging said Dawson. “I want those kids to copulate me.” Where do our jocks get their role models for such unintentional hilarity? Sadly, from the people who write their cheques. When they open their mouths, owners and team managers can be just as lame-brained as their well-paid vassals. Consider Bobby Clarke, ex-Team Canada assassin turned GM of the Philadelphia Flyers. When his head coach, Roger Neilson asked for time off for medical problems, Clarke said, sure, promising to bring him back when he felt better. Alas for Neilson, the diagnosis was cancer. Clarke had been hoping for a head cold. Explaining to reporters why he reneged on his promise, Clarke explained “We never asked Roger to get cancer”. He added helpfully that the medication Neilson was forced to take for the disease made him “goofy”. Marge Schotte, who used to own the Cincinnati Reds baseball franchise, was also famous for her sensitivity. When an umpire at an opening day Reds game suffered a massive heart attack and died on the field forcing a postponement, Marge wailed, “Snow this morning and now this. I don’t believe it. This isn’t supposed to happen to us. Not in Cincinnati.” Oh, well. Nobody ever said sports people had to be mental giants. Even the pros recognize that. Someone once described quarterback Joe Theisman as ‘a genius’ but he demurred. “Football players aren’t geniuses,” said Theisman, “A genius is somebody like Norman Einstein”. concern. Eves has been complaining his party’s biggest problem is not its policies, but its inability to communicate them effectively and now he seems to have someone who can. Clement also has boosted his own career by a single dramatic act, reminding of Liberal Andrew Thompson in the 1960s making a speech ripping apart the Tory “police state” law, which would have jailed indefinitely organized crime suspects who refused to answer questions, and vaulting over others’ heads to party leader. Clement did poorly in the leadership race Eves won, obtaining only 13 per cent of the vote, despite obvious brightness and a lot of ideas. But if Eves loses the next election, Clement would have a new strength in a race to succeed him, because the Tories do not have many heroes. This may explain why Enterprise and Innovation Minister Jim Flaherty, considered Eves’s heir-apparent, sat scribbling furiously during most of the standing ovation for Clement - it is not the sort of innovation he had hoped for. Bonnie The short of it Design challenged, It’s just 5:30 p.m., a long work week ended. Supper will soon be simmering, but for now, having paid enough dues through the past seven days, I am guiltlessly kicking back. Feet up, a glass of wine, just me and While You Were Out. Only mildly embarrassed, 1 admit to a slight addiction for this cheesy design show. Fox anyone who doesn’t know the premise, a team of interior designers and carpenters move in to decorate a room or outside area. The only one who doesn’t know about it is the person who lives there, having been set up for the makeover by family and/or friends. Now the idea of someone making over a room without consultation is 1 suppose a little terrifying, especially when consideration is given to the low budget and, in some cases, the gaudy end results. But the elements of surprise and good intentions, not to much a sense of voyeurism as we await the reaction, can be counted as attractions. However, what really interests me, and this comes as a surprise, is some of the inexpensive, quick fixes the designers come up with. Surprising to me, I guess, because until recently I had very little interest in such things. When I first moved into my own home, well over 35 years ago, the decor was, to put it nicely, eclectic. More honestly it could only be called a mish mash of cast offs, hand-me- downs, and cheap designs, put in place strictly for utilitarian purposes. Good grief,‘I used blankets as window coverings. Subtle hints that home fashiors might some day matter did exist, a pillow here, artwork there, but they were done unconsciously, little homey touches that happened in spite of my indifference. In retrospect I can see that it was as a young mother the idea of my home being a reflection of me began to take shape. Colours were co­ ordinated and some thought was given before a purchase was made. However, the purpose continued to remain practical. A couch and chairs for relaxing, tables for setting things on, curtains for shutting things out, and lights for brightening things up, with nothing so grand that it would break my heart if the kids hurt it. My evolution of interior design continued after we bought an old, fairly decrepit home and gutted walls and ceilings, replaced floors, sanded, refinished, re-wired, installed, papered and painted. By this point, a notion of what worked and what didn’t had begun to form, but I would have to call the approach cautious, even unimaginative. We took no chances; our decorating was straightforward, pleasant, appealing, but unremarkable. That there might be a way to make it remarkable, was something I really never considered. Then this past year, with an empty nest and a new perspective on my house, I have suddenly become a huge fan of design shows. Though I may sit enviously watching the flashy ones, wishing I had the knack for recognizing what it is I really want, the talent for putting it together and the money to make all of that easier to achieve, I am hoping to absorb some of that knowledge through exposure. Even the unpretentious, such as the one mentioned above, get me thinking, looking at the rooms in my house differently than ever before. Believe me, I have no false ideas I’ll ever be someone capable of creating a showpiece of my home. But I have sure come a long way from blankets in my windows.