Wednesday, Sept. 29, 2004 | 10:38 a.m.
Ron Kantowski is a Las Vegas Sun sports writer. Reach him at [email protected] or (702) 259-4088.
The way I figure it, if the UNLV-UNR football game is as big a deal as the teams and their fans make it out to be, they would play it at the end of the season instead of the middle.
The best rivalries in college football are usually renewed at the end of the season, not in October, which has become the norm for the annual name-calling contest between Rebels and Wolf Pack fans.
But before 1998, there was little rhyme or reason when UNLV and UNR played. If they even played at all.
In 1997, for instance, the Battle for the Fremont Cannon opened the season. The year before that it was Oct. 5, the year before that Oct. 28, and the year before that Nov. 19.
Among the rivalry games, this one is a bit of a stray cat. It just can't seem to find a home.
And there was a time not that long ago when only temporarily lodging was required. In 1980, 1981, 1982, 1984, 1986 and 1988, the Silver State's football-playing bastions of higher education didn't even deem it necessary to play.
You think that would ever happen with Michigan-Ohio State, Auburn-Alabama or Army-Navy?
A couple of years ago, there was a movement in the Legislature to permanently move the UNLV-UNR game to the last weekend of October, where it would serve as the highlight of a Nevada Day celebration.
In theory, it sounded like a good idea. But the lawmakers failed to consider that the Rebels and Wolf Pack play in different conferences, neither of which is willing to tear up its composite schedule so Nevada can mark the anniversary of its statehood with a college football game.
It would seem there would be a lot more flexibility at the end of the conference season, especially given that "bowl eligible" isn't part of either side's vocabulary.
UNLV athletic director Mike Hamrick hasn't given the date of the Reno game much thought. But he said part of the reason most rivalry games are played during the last week of the season is that the combatants also are conference rivals, giving them that option.
He said the Mountain West prefers that its teams end their seasons as early as possible (although this year's Rebels are taking that edict to a new extreme).
That's too bad, because by playing the game in December or on Thanksgiving weekend, it would give the teams something to play for long after they've been eliminated from Obscure.com Bowl contention.
But a December game might be a tough sell with fans of the rivals. By then, it might be cold enough that they'd have to wear gloves to the stadium, which would nullify the time-honored tradition of throwing each other the finger.
UNLV swimming coach Jim Reitz received a surprise phone call last week, and it wasn't the swimming pool repairman with an estimate on what it would cost to patch up Buchanan Natatorium.
It was none other than Olympic sensation Michael Phelps, inquiring if it would be possible to get in a few laps between public appearances in Las Vegas.
Phelps no doubt got Reitz's number from his sister, Whitney, who won the 200 butterfly for the Rebels at the 2000 Mountain West championships before injuries curtailed her career.
Reitz said Phelps took time out to visit with the Rebels' swim team and made a huge impression.
"All my girls, especially, were going nuts," he said.
Reitz said even while watching Phelps swim laps it is immediately apparent that this is no ordinary pool boy.
"It's amazing how he takes something so complicated," Reitz said of Phelps' swimming stroke, "and makes it look so simple."
It would appear the mechanics for the Forsythe Championship Racing team spent a little too much time in the casino last weekend.
For starters (well, almost), the drive train in Paul Tracy's car broke during the pace lap at Saturday night's Champ Car Bridgestone 400 at Las Vegas Motor Speedway, meaning the Las Vegas resident will have to wait another year before getting to race on his hometown track.
Tracy's teammate and Las Vegas neighbor Patrick Carpentier was the race polesitter and finished third but any chance he had for his second consecutive series victory ended when he tried to pull away from the pits after making his first stop. It turned out his crew had flip-flopped fourth and fifth gear in his car.
So don't get too terribly upset the next time the Pep Boys misplace your radiator cap.
With apologies to 6-foot-8 shooting guard Oscar Schmidt, who, when asked why he shot the ball every time he got it instead of passing to a teammate once told reporters "Some people, they play the piano. And some people, they move the piano," Brazil's biggest sports heroes have always been soccer players and race car drivers.
But only the "futebol" stalwarts, as the "beautiful game" is called in Brazil, are known by their nicknames.
Pele. Ronaldo. Zico. Ronaldihno. Junior. Sting. (Well, not Sting. But you get the idea).
Bruno Junqueira played soccer as a young boy in Brazil but was more inspired by countrymen and former Formula One world driving champions Emerson Fittipaldi, Nelson Piquet and the great Ayrton Senna. But even Senna, who was given a state funeral that attracted a President Kennedy-like 5.1 million mourners, was referred to by his surname by all except ex-teammate and bitter rival Alain Prost, who called him something else.
Edson Arantes do Nascimento, on the other hand, has always answered to "Pele" -- a nickname that he claims was bestowed upon him by Turkish men who watched him play as a youngster, when he had a bad habit on playing the ball with his hands. "Pele" actually means "stupid" in Turkish.
"Guys like Ronaldo are so huge," said Junqueira, who finished second in a breathtaking wheel-to-wheel duel to teammate Sebastien Bourdais on Saturday. "They can't even walk down the street."
But Junqueira is cultivating a one-name moniker of his own.
"People in this country have started calling me just 'Bruno.' That's because they don't know how to say 'Junqueira.' "
Manager Jim Tracy said if the Dodgers clinch the NL West before Sunday he will continue to use his front-line players if the games might impact the wild-card standings.
"We will protect the integrity of the game," Tracy said. "We won't put the Las Vegas 51s out there, I can promise you that."
I've got news for you, Jim. This year's 51s had trouble protecting the integrity of the game at the Triple-A level.
Remember a couple of years ago when former UNLV athletic director Charlie Cavagnaro sold a home game back to Ole Miss for about $1.98 and an old cotton gin?
We were told that Mississippi (which had it traveled to Sam Boyd Stadium would have had Eli Manning as its quarterback) had no interest in coming West to honor its home-and-home commitment. But lo and behold, those other Rebels went to Wyoming last week and wound up losing to the Cowpokes, 37-32.
The Curse of the Bobblehead has reared its bouncy little head again.
Last year, basketball coach Charlie Spoonhour already had resigned by the time UNLV got around to distributing a bobblehead doll cast in his likeness. Then this past Saturday, Rebels fans at Sam Boyd Stadium were presented a voucher redeemable for a John Robinson bobblehead. He resigned, effective at the end of the season, the very next day.
The rumor going around campus this week is that baseball coach Buddy Gouldsmith has told the marketing department it can keep its bobblehead.
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