Tuesday, Jan. 28, 2003 | 10:38 a.m.
HINDSIGHT IS 20-20. I'll take Tampa Bay and the over.
I was one of the fortunate 70,000 people who got a seat inside the stadium this past Sunday for Super Bowl XXXVII. Actually, I did a little better than that. Because I went with my friend and diehard Miami Dolphin fan, Bernie Yuman, I got to sit next to former Dolphin and Hall of Fame Coach Don Shula and many of the members of the NFL's only undefeated team -- the 1972 Miami Dolphins.
What I learned from Bob Griese, Nick Buoniconti, Larry Csonka and Coach Shula in between plays, during timeouts, and during those long commercial breaks was as much or more about football as I had ever hoped to learn. And because we had the benefit of the live action as well as the replays on television sets, it was hard to miss any of the considerable action.
On the way to the game, I was informed by my betting partner that "we" had picked the Tampa Bay Buccaneers to win the game. The sports book had also decided to give us four points to make up for any qualitative differences there may have been between the two teams on game day. And since Tampa Bay was the No. 1 defensive team in the NFL, the score would surely be a low one so we also made a small wager on that particular outcome.
Bernie explained his rationale for the bet, basing the bulk of his decision on the old adage that the best defense will beat the best offense not only in professional football contests but also in most aspects of life. Who was I to argue? He told me what my half of the wager amounted to and the potential windfall that would result should Tampa Bay defy the odds and do so with as few points as possible on the scoreboard.
The only issue I had with the whole thing was a strong sense of guilt that I would be rooting against Mike O'Callaghan's favorite team. But by the time Bernie was through filling my conscience with all kinds of nonsense about why Tampa Bay was actually going to win and how much money that would mean to us, the guilt thing passed and visions of sugar plums and a wild spending spree danced in my head. I was determined to be a good fan and cheer, as often and as loudly as I could, for the team that owned my heart. And, of course, for the team on which I had a winning ticket.
In that regard I was not unlike at least half of the cheering fans who filled that stadium on a glorious Sunday afternoon to watch the single biggest sporting event on the planet. Perhaps a billion people all over the globe were tuned into the Super Bowl. They wanted to see what I was there to see.
The fans in attendance were, unlike me, holding "winning tickets" that they got from every place other than Nevada, where sports betting is legal. And I witnessed dozens of them using cell phones to call someone constantly in order to place bets after each quarter and during half-time. So much for that legal betting thing, huh? Maybe, at least, they were using Qualcomm products!
And, lest I forget, the television audience, especially, was looking forward to the entertainment that included not only a fabulous half-time show but also the promise of some pretty exciting 30-second advertisements.
Oh yes, those television ads. You know the ones I mean. The kinds of ads that ran during the NFL playoffs. (The Miller Lite commercial featuring some very good looking lady mud wrestlers comes immediately to mind.) But, as all Las Vegas knows, there was one commercial about our city that didn't make it to the big game. Not because the sponsor couldn't pay the freight. Not because the ad was too risque or promoted the wrong kind of activity. And not because the Super Bowl ad spots were already sold out. There's always room for one more, it seems.
The reason the National Football League nixed the Las Vegas Convention and Visitor Authority's ad about visiting our good city was because NFL Commissioner Paul Tagliabue thought the image of gambling was not good for the image of professional football.
That decision prompted our good mayor, Oscar Goodman, to challenge the goodie-goodies in football land to a duel of sorts. He used words like hypocrisy to describe their actions. And, Oscar being Oscar, he also used words like phony and arrogant to describe the people who would keep Las Vegas from promoting itself to football fans the world over.
I agreed with Oscar when he raised hell and I agree with most Las Vegans who feel that we have been improperly singled out by an NFL commissioner who is in dreamland when it comes to the reality of football betting. And after visiting Qualcomm Stadium on Sunday, I am convinced that words like hypocrite don't even scratch the surface.
Forget the bookie action during the game. When we pulled into the parking lot before the game, the first thing that struck me was the incredible number of buses and limousines that were streaming into the stadium. There was parking for very few private cars, so most people either rode buses, took the train, or hired those big, long limousines to get them to the game on time.
You know what stood out like a sore thumb? The name, Barona, emblazoned on many of those limos and buses. What's Barona, you ask? Only the biggest and most profitable gambling joint in the San Diego area. And, just like any good business with customers wanting to see the game, that casino was making their dreams possible.
And so was the NFL because it made sure that those cars and buses had plenty of parking passes to get into the stadium. In short, football knew from whence those fans were coming and it welcomed them, as they should have been, to Super Bowl XXXVII.
So the fans were betting like crazy, the buses were rolling in with the NFL's blessing, and what many would call very distasteful ads were lining the pockets of the NFL with millions of dollars. Tell me again why Las Vegas couldn't run a tourism ad that would be appropriate for all age groups and, at any other time and place, on the ABC Television network?
Forget it, don't tell me because it still won't make any sense. Better you tell me why I didn't bet the over. It would have made for a better end to a great but hypocritical day.
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