Columnist Melissa Schorr: ‘Battle of Sexes’ skates on thin ice

Melissa Schorr

Monday, Jan. 11, 1999 | 10 a.m.

It's tough always being the underdog.

The men I've dated always seem to be taller, older, stronger and better-educated than I am. Whatever I do, I'm outmatched -- on the tennis court, the ski slope, even the bowling alley.

Still, I'm unable to resist challenging their oh-so-lordly superiority, picking venues where brute strength plays no part -- i.e., where I might actually stand a chance. How about a game of pool? I casually propose. Care to thumb wrestle?

Sometimes, I take it too far: Once, dining at the meal hall, I challenged my college beau, boasting that I could out-eat him. Bad idea. Another time, thinking myself wily, I taunted that he couldn't pin me down against my will. Wrong again.

That's why it was so inspiring to hear about the proposed chess match between female world champ Susan Polgar and male champ Anatoly Karpov, to be held here in Vegas.

Even if I'm hopelessly outmatched, it's nice to know there are women out there who at least have the potential to kick male butt.

Remember, I was only a babe in the crib in 1973 during Billie Jean King's victory over Bobby Riggs in their "Battle of the Sexes" tennis match. And those "Network Battle of the Sexes" specials were always well past my bedtime.

That's why it was doubly disappointing to attend the recent "Battle of the Sexes on Ice III," an annual skate-off between male and female Olympians held last month at the MGM Grand Garden and airing Sunday on CBS.

Don't bother watching. Purporting to show that men and women can compete on equal footing, the event virtually made a mockery of the idea.

Tune in, and you'll see Nancy Kerrigan fall on her butt five times. Then you'll see Brian Orser and a jet lagged Victor Petrenko dazzle the sparse crowds with flips and a mean Michael Jackson impersonation.

Still, to my dismay, the women were virtually handed the victory on a silver skate. No one present could deny the men got robbed. Instead of feeling proud for my gender, I felt ashamed. Victories such as this we don't need.

But more appalling was the farcical selection of judges.

The seven judges included the two male CEOs of sponsors Shelby American race cars and Titan Motorcycles, and five women, who consisted of: a trio of 21-year-old Playboy-posing triplets, local beauty queen/producer Michele Berk, and, golly gee, yet another Playboy nymph, Miss August '98.

In an event pitting the sexes as equal combatants in the skating arena, isn't it odd that the female judges' main professional accomplishment, collectively, is their looks, while the male judges' main professional accomplishments are, well, their actual accomplishments?

Even my quasi-enlightened companion was staggered by the disparity on display. Shame on co-producer Danica Krislovich for allowing this outrage. It was insulting to the viewers. It was insulting to the skaters. Mostly, it was insulting to the very idea of the event.

For those of us who can't even strive to win a thumb-wrestle against our mates, a fair fight between the sexes can be an inspiration, a vicarious taste of glory.

But something that subverts the idea as badly as the "Battle of the Sexes on Ice" deserves to be iced.