THE OPENING LINE

Monday, Oct. 29, 2007 | 7:10 a.m.

Every now and then, when we are sitting around drinking Diet Pepsi and trying to figure out what's wrong with UNLV's football team, the guys who sit next to me on the Sun sports desk start telling "only in Las Vegas" stories.

These are little anecdotes we swear could happen only here (or, possibly, in Branson, Mo.), that largely explain why we choose to live and work in Las Vegas, even when there's an opening at the Fresno Bee.

For example, only in Las Vegas could Evel Knievel call the sports desk looking for the score of the Colts game that he had bet on the night before.

Only in Las Vegas could you be sitting in a lounge at the Mirage on a Sunday afternoon, sipping a Diet Pepsi and minding your business, only to have Rip Taylor, the comedian and serial confetti tosser , sans hairpiece, walk up to your table and ask for directions.

Only in Las Vegas could you be sitting in a local tavern so far from the Strip's bright lights that you would need night-vision goggles to see them, only to bump into Steve Rossi, the comedian, wolfing down a 99-cent breakfast. And have him chuckle in appreciation of your weak "Hello Dere," impression of his old sidekick, Marty Allen.

The news that Robert Goulet was fighting for his life in the hospital made me remember another only in Las Vegas story.

Only in Las Vegas could you be sitting at your computer, the cursor blinking on a blank screen, waiting for you to put it into motion with some brilliant prose, only to be interrupted by a phone call from Robert Goulet.

The Robert Goulet.

Or Bob Goulet, which is how he identified himself to the Sun's Brian Hilderbrand one afternoon in Camelot, which is what we called the newsroom, at least on that particular day.

"Brian?" the familiar and strident voice on the other end of the line said. "Bob Goulet."

It both stunned and, if truth be known, flattered Brian that Goulet had called him by name, as if they were old pals. They had never met, although their paths had crossed at Cashman Field, when Goulet sang the national anthem at Las Vegas Stars games that Brian wrote about the next day in the paper.

Apparently, Goulet was more of a sports fan than any of us would have guessed. He said he was reading the tennis scores in that day's sports section, and wanted to know what the numbers in parentheses meant after the players' names.

Brian told him that was score of the tiebreaker. Bob Goulet said "thanks," and hung up. That was the last time we heard from him, outside of the times when he sang the anthem at Cashman, when Brian would hold the phone out the press box window and call the office, so we could hear Goulet flex his pipes.

But every year at Christmas, we'd get a card from Goulet and his lovely wife, Vera, which we would proudly display on the sports desk.

Only in Las Vegas.

THIS WEEK'S BEST BET

Professional Bull Riders World Finals, Thursday-Sunday, Thomas & Mack Center

Outside of watching Anna Kournikova double fault on her serve in a celebrity tennis match, these just might be the most exciting eight seconds in sports.

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ON THE WEB: www.unlvticket.com.

ALSO WORTH A LOOK

Western vs. Bishop Gorman, 7 p.m. Friday, Sam Boyd Stadium

Just like old times - two of Las Vegas' longstanding high schools batting for supremacy on the gridiron.

TICKETS: Less than $10

ON THE WEB: www.maxpreps.com.