Tuesday, July 2, 2002 | 8:53 a.m.
Ron Kantowski's insider notes column appears Tuesday and his Page One column appears Thursday. He can be reached at [email protected] or (702) 259-4088.
If former UNLV basketball players had a dime for every time their alma mater or this city called upon/used them since their Rebels playing days, they'd have a couple of bucks, at least.
To wit, organizers will meet this week to discuss whether to prop up the World Pro Basketball Challenge, a tournament featuring Magic Johnson, some of his eating buddies and some nondescript international club teams, for another year. One of the quotes leading up to those talks was that "A UNLV alumni team makes sense" for next year.
But in that at least three minor league pro basketball franchises have failed miserably using ex-Rebels as coaches and players, perhaps it's time to draw another conclusion:
That locals will gladly cheer Rebels players during the four years or fewer they play for UNLV. But beyond that, Rebels fans feel no responsibility to honor their old heroes by sitting and applauding their athletic feats in near-empty gymnasiums.
And it's not just ex-Rebels who wear out their welcome here, or at least fail to captivate our fickle fans. Last week, NBA Hall-of-Famer Johnson tried to wake up the echoes but couldn't keep the 400 or so fans in attendance from falling asleep.
Maybe part of the problem is that it wasn't the Johnson of old on display, but simply an old Johnson. Given his bulbous middle, he looked like the Michelin Man leading the fastbreak.
The lesson to be learned is that if only 400 spectators bothered to catch this Magic act, how many do you think would show up to watch Warren Rosegreen pound the boards or Brian Keefe sink a three-point basket?
The Coyotes thus join Davy Crockett, Jim Bowie and at least nine other minor league football franchises on the list of persons or things that have died in San Antonio.
As San Antonio Express sports writer Mike Finger put it: "Don't invade Russia in the winter. Don't pay to see a movie starring Pauly Shore. And don't try to bring minor-league football to San Antonio."
Last week, the Ferrari Formula One racing team was assessed a $1 million fine for instructing race leader Rubens Barrichello to pull over so that Ferrari teammate and championship leader Michael Schumacher could win the Austrian Grand Prix and pad his points lead.
A headline over the report in the Sports Business Journal newsletter called the fine "a slap on the wrist."
Over the weekened, Sun sports writer Steve Guiremand received a note from Santa Magarita Catholic High School in California, thanking him for his story on Alton White, the son of Southern Cal Heisman Trophy winner Charles White, after the younger White excelled in UNLV's annual football camp.
The letter was signed by Adrian Peters, "Football Information Director" at Santa Margarita.
My school had a football information director, too -- the water boy. He's the guy who called in the score to the local newspaper after the game.
Compare that to the trophy that Cristiano da Matta, Ronaldo's Brazilian countryman, received for winning the Chicago Grand Prix, a next-to-meaningless CART race held in the Windy City a couple of hours after Brazil beat Germany in soccer. The diminutive da Matta received an ornate crystal cup that came nearly to his waist.
"The president of Brazil made (Monday) a national holiday, but I don't think it's because I won this race," da Matta said.
But at least you can drink a Brahma from da Matta's cup.
Once spurned by locals, the U.S. Fed Cup matches against Israel on July 20-21 will instead be held in our sister city -- Springfield, Mo.
Springfield bills itself as "The Cultural Center of the Ozarks" which is saying something, though I'm not exactly sure what.
But all I know is that in three weeks, those who call it home can take time out from watching grass grow to observe some of the world's top female tennis players making a racket.
While that's happening, we'll be watching paint dry -- or blister.
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