Columnist Ron Kantowski: Let’s take break from trash talk

Thursday, Sept. 20, 2001 | 10:12 a.m.

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

So when will your life return to normal?

Me? I'm not quite there. From a professional standpoint, a columnist's job is to state an opinion, and sometimes, especially in sports, a wisecrack is called for. But I haven't felt much like cracking wise since last Tuesday.

Even guys who do it full-time have backed off out of respect to the bombing victims and their loved ones. Did you happen to catch David Letterman on Monday night? There's a time and a place for Stupid Pet Tricks. This isn't it.

But leave it to the egomaniacal world of sports -- or at least one of its inhabitants -- to be among the first to return to self-indulgence.

It took all of six innings in his first game since the terrorist attack for Ray Durham to forget what is important. It certainly wasn't his line drive down the right-field that first-base umpire Mike Winters called foul during the Yankees-White Sox game in Chicago Wednesday night.

Durham, the Chicago second baseman, semi-behaved himself until he struck out during the same at-bat. Distressed by dropping two points from his .264 batting average, Durham returned to the dugout and attacked the water cooler with his Louisville Slugger, showing that he could, indeed, hit something with it.

Then he bolted from the dugout to get in Winters' face. I don't know what was said, but given Durham immediately was ejected, it probably wasn't "God Bless America."

It was suggested afterward that Winters might have antagonized Durham somehow. Whatever. I'd still make him take that honorary American flag off his cap until he stops disgracing it.

It's guys like Ray Durham -- or at least his actions on Tuesday night -- that are going to have me ending my moratorium on wisecracks before I'm ready.

The irony is that I actually believed the terrible events of last week would help each of us reflect and get our houses in order. I expected more patience, love and understanding, and less complaining about our spouses, bosses and the umpires.

I thought there would be fewer brushback pitches, late hits, technical fouls and high-sticking penalties. And more high-fives, free autographs, doubleheaders and fan appreciation nights.

I truly believed there would be a ceasefire on trash talking, linebackers would begin helping running backs to their feet and that drunk, obnoxious fans would hold off on becoming either until at least the seventh inning. And that Jeff Gordon and Tony Stewart would kiss and make up on the NASCAR circuit.

What better time for Bob Huggins to start recruiting players legally? For Bob Knight to become kindler and gentler? For English soccer fans to leave their brass knuckles at home? For sports columnists to get off Barry Bonds' backside?

I actually thought that Tie Domi, the hockey goon, might become a two-way player.

Maybe he still will. Maybe Ray Durham will apologize to Mike Winters and contribute a day's salary to the relief effort in Manhattan to make amends for acting like an idiot.

It's sad that it has taken a national tragedy for the sports world to get its priorities straight. What would be even sadder is if the games continue to be played as if they are a matter of life and death, which, as we saw last week, couldn't be farther from the truth.

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