Columnist Ron Kantowski: New book on XFL set in LV

Thursday, Nov. 7, 2002 | 10:05 a.m.

Ron Kantowski's insider notes column appears Tuesday and his Page One column appears Thursday. He can be reached at ron@lasvegassun.com or (702) 259-4088.

The AFL gave us the Dolphins, Bills, Patriots, Jets, Broncos, Chiefs, Chargers and Raiders.

The USFL had Jim Kelly, Doug Flutie and Herschel Walker.

And let's not forget the WFL -- the World Football League -- which contributed the "action point" and the Shreveport Steamer.

On second thought, let's do forget the WFL.

And then there was the XFL, the misguided notion of wrestling huckster Vince McMahon and NBC sports honcho Dick Ebersol, that was to combine pro wrestling, football and reality TV into Survivor in Shoulder Pads.

It was booted off the island after one forgettable season.

The title of a new book on the XFL is even more blunt: "Long Bomb -- How the XFL Became TV's Biggest Fiasco" (Crown Publishing).

In that I'm old enough to have seen both "My Mother The Car" and "Cop Rock," I think the title might be a bit harsh. But it's still a good read, especially for local fans, in that author Brett Forrest chose Las Vegas and our very own Outlaws as the basis for his XFL obituary.

As the book jacket says, what better place to blow a book advance? For roughly four months, Forrest became The 41st Outlaw, which, Billy Preston fans take note, is not exactly the same as being The Fifth Beatle. But it enabled Forrest to gain unfettered access to the inner-workings of the XFL.

It wasn't exactly like taking apart a Swiss watch. According to Forrest, the XFL's biggest problem was that it was sold as a TV show, not a football league, and when the ratings did not come anywhere close to what McMahon had promised NBC and its advertisers, the XFL was doomed.

Forrest says the XFL never figured out what it was supposed to be.

Surprisingly, McMahon came to believe its core audience was comprised of traditional football fans while Ebersol thought it was kids who followed wrestling. While they weighed whether to allow linebackers to fling folding chairs at ball carriers or putting raincoats on sideline strippers -- er, cheerleaders -- the nation was changing channels.

As Forrest said, the only thing about the league that worked was "He Hate Me," the curious nickname of Outlaws running back Rod Smart, and even that was a fluke.

Smart had grown up on the wrong side of the tracks in Lakeland, Fla., and when it appeared he would be cut in training camp, he became disillusioned. When he couldn't decide what nickname he wanted on his jersey, Smart handed a team official a piece of paper with three words scrawled on it.

As Forrest said, "the epithet had less to do with the opponents Smart would face than the opponents he had always faced."

The XFL office didn't know what it meant, so it denied Smart's request. On the eve of the first game, Smart complained to Trey FitzGerald, the team's P.R. man, who suggested Smart talk to McMahon, somewhere in Sam Boyd Stadium at that very moment.

McMahon finally gave in.

With apologies to Tommy Maddox, those three words helped Smart become the league's only star. But he never cashed in, having signed a contract that said McMahon controlled everything related to the XFL, including nicknames.

In other words, He Own Me.

Leave it to Mayor Oscar Goodman, whose prophetic words appear at the beginning of the book, to summarize the XFL's 15 minutes of fame:

" 'XFL' stands for nothing at all? That's amazing. Only Vince McMahon would have something which means nothing stand for something."