Columnist Ron Kantowski: Go see Cal if you can afford it

Thursday, June 21, 2001 | 10:37 a.m.

Ron Kantowski's column appears Thursday. Reach him at ron@lasvegassun.com or 259-4088.

Another sports icon decided to call it quits this week, and I'm not referring to Charlie Cavagnaro, the UNLV athletic director who Wednesday announced he'll be stepping down the next time Jupiter aligns with Mars or June 2002, whichever comes first.

Let me start by saying Cal Ripken is -- or at least was -- a hell of a ballplayer. During his 21 seasons he was more dependable than your old man's Cadillac and deserves every plaudit, accolade and token of appreciation that is sure to come his way between now and Sept. 30.

Don't be surprised if he gets another one of those big rocks for the other side of his front yard.

That said, I wish his retirement were just that. A retirement. Not another one of these commercialized farewell tours for which sports has become famous (although I prefer "notorious.")

In a development that surely must grate on the humble Ripken, there's a guy -- probably several guys -- printing "Go See Cal" T-shirts in a basement as you read this that have nothing to do with Southern California used car salesman Cal Worthington or his dog Spot. (If you don't get the reference, ask a Dodgers fan.)

They have everything to do with making a quick buck -- like about $20 on every sale.

It's only a matter of time before a Ripken bobblehead doll becomes more valued than a once-owned DeLorean, or inner peace. Get ready for commemorative Ripken caps and balls and bats. Just as somebody is bound to design a garish $2000 leather jacket that looks like an Orioles jersey with Cal's No. 8 on the back, somebody who has tickets on Gucci Row for UNLV basketball games surely will buy it.

Don't be surprised if the QVC people and the Franklin Mint people are already doing lunch with Cal's people. And I'm not talking about Orioles fans. Tickets for Cal Ripken Humorous Cummerbund Night at Camden Yards already have been marked up like a Cabbage Patch doll on Dec. 22 of Christmas Past.

Somebody better call Charlie Brown, shine a spotlight on him, and have him put Ripken's retirement in perspective before we all go broke.

At first, every time one of these Farewell Tours was announced I blamed the athlete. Most of these guys can't brush their teeth without an audience. So I figured these long goodbyes were nothing more than a season-long curtain call or six more months of basking in the limelight.

(At least in the case of the embattled Cavagnaro, there won't be much limelight to bask in.)

But the unassuming Ripken doesn't seem like the kind of guy who wants to spend the last days of his career taking bows. I truly believe that his ideal scenario on Sept. 30 would be going 2-for-5 with maybe the game-winning RBI and then going home to play Wiffle Ball with his kids.

Then you look at the standings, see that the O's are wallowing in third place, 9 1/2 games out of first (although it is the Red Sox who lead) and wonder if this isn't just a way for management to manufacture a little interest in a season where the Orioles don't figure to generate much of the genuine kind.

Too bad it can't be like the old days, where a guy didn't announce he was hangin' up the spikes until the final out of Game 154, and then came back on the next Opening Day to graciously accept a spiffy rod and reel from the team owner.