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SIMPSON COLUMN

CORKY SIMPSON

csimpson@tucsoncitizen.com

“Where did we go right?”

- “The Producers,” by Mel Brooks

Life is too confusing. So often, what seems real and certain and sure to last forever isn’t and doesn’t. What shouldn’t be, is.

It’s a crazy, crazy world.

Take love. It usually finds a way to conquer all, but many times winds up like a motorcycle daredevil trying to jump over one too many Greyhound buses.

Lute Olson’s marriage to second wife Christine Toretti Olson appears over.

He has filed for divorce in Pima County Superior Court. They were married four years ago, about two years after the death of Lute’s first wife, Bobbi, from ovarian cancer, on Jan. 1, 2001.

Lute has been on leave from the University of Arizona basketball team since Nov. 4.

It would be nice to leave this story alone at this point and let the lawyers work things out. Quietly.

But Lute, 73, is the most famous man in Tucson, if not Arizona, and the divorce is the Big Secret everyone has been asking about – all over the country.

It helps explains Lute’s mysterious absence from the team he recruited and put together and then suddenly, just over a month ago, turned over to top assistant Kevin O’Neill.

Here we have an authentic sports legend, with a soul stoked by competitive coals, wed to a captain of industry. . .

That’s not a match, it’s a match-up.

As beautiful as this couple were together, it would appear the marriage was as difficult and stinging as what every family faces, or will eventually face. That’s life, dammit.

In “The Producers,” two zany characters try to come up with the worst possible idea for a Broadway musical in order to fleece investors.

In the marriage of Arizona’s Hall of Fame basketball coach and the high-profile businesswoman/Republican national committee woman, it looked for the world to most of us that an impossible match had become a dream marriage.

Apparently not.

Lute has said he won’t be back for the rest of the season. Fortunately, the Arizona basketball team has O’Neill, one of the few coaches in the country as good as Olson.

Maybe Lute had this in mind when he brought O’Neill aboard earlier this year, as defensive coordinator, and lobbied successfully for a salary for Kevin far above that of most assistants.

It was appropriate, though, because O’Neill has skills far above most assistants. The guy who helped Lute build and coach the best team in UA history – the 1987-88 bunch that went 35-3 and was the first from Arizona to reach the Final Four – is the right man at the right time.

Whether O’Neill leads the Wildcats through the remainder of this season and then returns to his position as assistant, or becomes the head coach should Lute decide he’s too old to attempt a comeback, this much is certain:

O’Neill is equal to the task, whatever it is.

He has plenty of head coaching experience, at Marquette, Tennessee, Northwestern and the NBA’s Toronto Raptors.

He knows the game inside-out. He connects with the players. And he has a passion for basketball at least equal to Lute’s.

But the task at hand is for Lute and Christine to deal with one of life’s toughest situations, while O’Neill deals with one of college basketball’s toughest schedules.

The hope is that the Olsons’ private agony won’t become a media feast. The reality is, that is probably impossible.

Lute and Christine are simply too famous – and the price of fame is notoriety, often unwanted. We would like to leave this thing alone, but it is a genie out of the jug.

It’s sad. We feel terrible for this extraordinary couple.

A marriage fallen apart is a tragedy, and our heart goes out to two excellent people who may have attempted the impractical – in an impossible time.

Corky Simpson writes a column every Saturday for the Citizen.

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SIMPSON COLUMN

CORKY SIMPSON

They call it the Territorial Cup, or the “Duel in the “Desert.” But it ought to be the Frank Kush Cup.

More than anyone else, this tough old bird and Hall of Fame coach made the Arizona-Arizona State football game what it is.

Hostile . . . snarly . . . caustic . . . harsh . . . pick your poison.

Fans at both schools root all season for their favorite – and every week leading up to the finale – for whoever is playing the dreaded enemy.

The more Frank Kush improved Sun Devil football from 1958-79, the more he increased the resolve of the Wildcats to knock them off. He was brilliant at both.

Even at 78 and coming off knee replacement surgery, Kush still gets fired up during the week of the bitter rivalry.

It’s more than a football game, he said.

“ASU-Arizona is more like two separate states in some kind of border war,” said the man who contributed more than anybody to making it so.

“People don’t realize the level of intensity between these two institutions,” Kush said. “It’s not only in athletics, but business-wise, politically and every way you can think of, these schools compete against each other.

“I learned when I first came to Arizona in 1955 as an ASU assistant under Dan Devine how intense this game was,” Kush said. “I was just a young kid at the time and ‘rivalry’ to me meant Michigan State, where I played, vs. Michigan.

“But I didn’t know what I was in for. This thing out here on the desert was . . . chaotic in its intensity. And I think that’s great. I hope it never changes.”

It did change during Kush’s 21 years as head coach at Arizona State. It got even more intense.

Kush was a marvelous teacher and motivator, but his disposition could get crabbier than the grass. His teams were rugged and ferocious, but Kush never coached a player as tough as he was.

There’s a bronze statue of Kush on the ASU campus and it isn’t half as hard as this amazing man. There’s a hill at Camp Tontozona where the Sun Devils train, called “Mount Kush,” and its rocks and cactuses soften in comparison to the old coach.

Kush built a national power at Arizona State, and in the process gave the archrival Wildcats tremendous incentive to improve . . . and they did.

The Kush Devils were 16-6 against Arizona, including a nine-game winning streak from 1965-73.

Bob Crawford, who covered the Sun Devils for many years for the old Phoenix Gazette, recalled the genesis of that ASU dominance.

“In the late summer of 1963, just before the start of the next season,” Crawford said, “the Arizona Coaches Association staged its annual high school All-Star football and basketball games in Flagstaff at Northern Arizona University. Coaches from all the schools were invited to an annual luncheon a day or so before the game.

“Kush and Jim LaRue of Arizona were asked to say a few words. LaRue, who had beaten ASU three years in a row, said something on the order of ‘I want to thank the coaches association for inviting me up here, and I want to thank Frank Kush for helping to make the last three years enjoyable.’

“I sneaked a look at Kush,” Crawford said, “and he was absolutely furious . . . and silent.”

Many years later, Kush said, “I told myself that afternoon that I was never going to lose to that (!!##*%!) again.”

Kush still works for ASU in public relations, and maintains an office in the athletic department complex.

On one wall, there’s a photograph of John Jefferson’s amazing catch (UA fans recall it as a “noncatch”) that helped the Devils defeat Arizona 24-21 in 1975.

“My son Danny kicked three field goals in that game,” Kush said, “so it was very special to me. We went on to beat Nebraska in the Fiesta Bowl and finished 12-0 and No. 2 in the country.

“I thought we should have been No. 1.”

Kush expects the usual intensity and fireworks in Saturday’s renewal of the rivalry.

“I think the two coaches are a lot alike,” he said of ASU’s Dennis Erickson and UA’s Mike Stoops. “They know what it takes to get the job done – recruit well and teach well.

“You can see the gradual progress at both schools. Dennis has been around longer and knows the necessary ingredients – although the Devils’ bubble was burst last week by Southern California.

“Stoops has done a commendable job at Arizona. I admire what they’ve done.”

He may be Mr. Sun Devil, but Kush must have a soft spot in his heart for UA’s Medical School.

A son, David, is a graduate and has worked as an anesthesiologist the past 12 years in Phoenix. He was in med school here at the time Mike Parseghian, son of former Notre Dame football coach Ara Parseghian, was in residency at UA.

So, Frank Kush was asked, you’ve got to appreciate UA for its medical school, right?

“Well, they need it more than we do,” he said in false grouchiness . . . before a big laugh.

Corky Simpson writes a column ever Saturday for the Citizen.

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SIMPSON COLUMN

CORKY SIMPSON

csimpson@tucsoncitizen.com

Maybe Charles Barkley was right after all. Sir Charles took a lot of heat for a Nike television spot some 14 years ago when the great pro basketball star declared, “I am not a role model . . . parents should be role models.”

We were reminded of this the other day when TV caught up with Mike Tyson, Michael Vick, Barry Bonds, O.J. Simpson and “Pacman” Jones – and it was a news report, not sports.

Tyson was getting out of jail for DUI and cocaine possession. Vick was going in for running a dogfighting business and for murdering pooches.

Bonds was under the legal microscope again for alleged steroid use, and O.J. was back in court because of the “sting” operation he reportedly organized to regain personal items from a memorabilia collector that the former USC and Buffalo Bills football star argued were stolen.

Pacman’s name was brought up in a conversation about athletes and various off-hours altercations, the sort of thing to which the multitalented Tennessee Titans gridiron star is not exactly a stranger.

What’s the problem with big-time sports heroes, anyhow? How come so many of them seem to have so much trouble obeying the law?

If one of them isn’t throwing a 135-pound ribbon clerk through a mirror at some sports bar, another is busting somebody’s head or leading a raid reminiscent of ancient Vikings to rape and pillage and plunder.

Parents should be role models, indeed.

We’re no longer surprised when a name athlete steps out of bounds with the legal system. In fact, we’ve almost come to expect it. And it’s a shame.

Because kids do try to model themselves after athletic heroes, Barkley’s disclaimer to the contrary notwithstanding.

But what is it with a millionaire ballplayer, fighter, running back, whatever . . . acting like – or being in position to be accused of acting like – a cheap thug?

Pauline Wallin, a Ph.D., in an essay titled “Are Sports Heroes More Trouble-Prone?” answers that question in the affirmative.

“It’s ironic,” she writes, “that so many champions who made it to the top through determination, focus and discipline could display such poor judgment off the playing field.”

How true.

Ms. Wallin says many people blame a system that rewards athletes with outrageously high salaries and provides them instant celebrity and privilege.

While this may be true to a degree, she suggests professional athletes have personality traits that not only enhance their ability in games – but also make them more likely to get into trouble.

To begin with, she writes that most of them are more aggressive and competitive than other people.

“People who are aggressive and competitive don’t back down from a challenge,” she says.

Strangely enough, one characteristic we all admire in athletes – confidence – can also turn a hero into one of those stars behind bars.

“An inflated sense of confidence is one of the factors that leads athletes to take more risk than the average person,” Wallin writes.

Overconfident, an athlete can minimize the consequence of risky behavior.

“Most of these guys thrive on action, quick-changing situations and uncertainty,” she says. “This is what gives them the edge until the very last second of a game.”

Unfortunately, when the game is over, the athlete neglects to turn off that initiative and aggressiveness.

What’s the answer?

“Sports stars have to work harder,” Wallin writes, “to stay out of trouble.”

One of my friends suggested, tongue in cheek, paying bonuses to athletes who obey the law. Maybe another two or three million dollars a year to stay out of jail.

Or they might be forced to play without a helmet (but the way some of them act, it seems they’ve already tried that).

They are what they are – overgrown kids with overgrown egos and a certainty deep inside that because they can run fast, jump high or throw far, they can get away with any damn thing they please.

Barkley was right. Parents should be the role models.

Corky Simpson writes a weekly column for the Citizen.

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SIMPSON COLUMN

Corky Simpson

It’s not something Joan Bonvicini is working into the offense, at least not yet.

But on the horizon for the Arizona women’s basketball team is a shot that will no doubt thrill the fans at McKale Center.

The Cats have found someone who can dunk.

Beatrice Bofia, a 6-foot-7 center from the African nation of Cameroon, is capable of that crowd pleaser so common in the men’s game but so rare in women’s basketball.

Bofia scored four points off the bench in a 78-71 win over Portland in UA’s home opener Friday night at McKale Center. Freshman forward Ify Ibekwe led the Cats with 21 points and 13 rebounds.

Bofia, a junior, sat out last season while recuperating from a knee injury. That put her twin sister, Suzy, a year ahead in eligibility, but Suzy, who is pregnant, is sitting out this season

“Beatrice is the first to dunk for us,” Bonvicini said. “She hasn’t done it in a game yet, but she was dunking all the time in practice last year – then blew a knee out.

“She’s getting back (to form), but the dunk. . . well, it’s not something we’re working on.”

Just the same, it’s still news when a woman player stuffs one through the nets.

“Well, yeah, although it’s pretty routine in the men’s game,” Bonvicini said. “If you ask me, though, the thing that has helped both games is the 3-point shot.”

The Bofia girls are part of the Cats’ Cameroon connection. They are from the city of Yaounde, founded in 1888 by German businessmen as a center for the ivory trade and farming research.

The other Cameroon player is Amino Njonkou from the city of Foumban, home of the republic’s royal palace housing the belongings of 18 dynasties.

Bonvicini is in her 17th season at Arizona, where her record is 278-205. In a career that began in 1979-80 at Long Beach State, her overall record is 603-276.

This season, with about half of its roster underclassmen, the Wildcats are talented but fairly inexperienced. Just the same, Bonvicini said, “I’ll take talent over experience any day.”

Leadership this season starts with Ashley Whisonant, a 5-8 senior guard from Bowie, Md. She led the Cats in scoring at 20.7 points per game .

“Ashley’s not as vocal as I’d like, but she has leadership skills and she is in position to have an outstanding season,” the coach said.

Njonkou, a 6-1 junior, and Rheya Neabors, a 6-2 sophomore from Pomona, Calif., have been the most consistent rebounders so far.

The most promising newcomer is Tasha Dickey, 5-10 guard, daughter of former UA basketball player (1983-85) Lisa Dickey and former UA football player and assistant coach Charlie Dickey (1983-84). He is the offensive line coach at Utah.

Tasha Dickey attended Mountain View High here one year before the family moved away. “It has always been my dream to be a Wildcat,” she said.

She was chosen 2007 Utah player of the year at Brighton High in the town of Sandy. She promises to be a very special athlete at UA.

“A lot of it is genes,” Bonvicini said of her prize freshman. “But Tasha was brought up extremely well. She’s very coachable. You get a kid like her and it’s amazing what they pick up, quickly.”

When senior Jessica Arnold from Palo Verde High suffered a concussion a week or so ago, Dickey was inserted into the lineup as a starter and averaged 10.3 points on 50 percent shooting, 2.3 steals and 24.3 minutes per game.

The other Wildcat freshmen are Faihza Hill, a 5-5 guard from San Francisco and Ibekwe, a 6-1 forward from Carson, Calif.

One major change in women’s basketball over the years has a lot to do with federal law. Since 1972 when Title IX was enacted to create gender equity in sports, the women’s game has dramatically improved because “we’re recruiting better players,” Bonvicini said.

There are still plenty of challenges to keep a coach busy. Freshmen still need to learn to play defense, for the most part, and they require more discipline than in high school. “But it’s still fun,” Bonvicini said. “It’s more fun when you know you’re good. But one thing never changes – it’s always exciting.”

Especially if there’s a dunker on the squad.

Corky Simpson writes a weekly column for the Citizen.

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SIMPSON COLUMN

CORKY SIMPSON

csimpson@tucsoncitizen.com

This is the best time of the year and it doesn’t take a weatherman or wizard to explain why.

It’s simple.

Any time baseball is in the spotlight, that’s the best time of the year.

Even those graybeards who don’t really care for the post- season tournament in Major League Baseball – in which eight teams qualify for a run at the world championship rather than two pennant winners – are thrilled that hum-babes still dominate the sports pages and television in the fall.

So what, if a wild-card trumps an ace? A ballclub doesn’t have to finish the regular season with the best record in its league to qualify for the tournament.

That changes baseball, which is nothing more than custom wrapped tightly in tradition, held together by stitches of folklore.

But at the finish, it still comes down to two teams in the World Series. That’s what counts and the marketing and advertising geniuses haven’t found a way around it, yet.

The new look owes everything to the old gleam.

The playoffs changed the postseason but didn’t ruin the national pastime.

Whatever it is, it’s still baseball. It’s our game.

As Thomas Wolfe saw it, “The scene is instant, whole and wonderful. In its beauty and design that vision of the soaring stands, the pattern of 40,000 empetalled faces, the velvet and unalterable geometry of the playing field and the small lean figures of the players. . . .”

In his 1983 “Sports Illustrated Baseball” book, Jerry Kindall, the much-loved retired University of Arizona coach, recalled his introduction to the game, thanks to his father, an excellent athlete himself.

“I grew up in St. Paul, Minnesota,” Jerry wrote, “and when time and money allowed, Dad would take my brothers, the neighborhood kids and me to Lexington Park to watch the St. Paul Saints, a Triple-A farm club of the Brooklyn Dodgers.

“It is easy to remember the warm sun on the wooden left-field bleachers, the scramble for foul balls, the visits through the fence with the visiting team bullpen batteries, the pride I felt when the Saints won and Roy Campanella, Duke Snider, Don Zimmer and Clem Labine did well.”

Joe Garagiola, in his 1988 “It’s Anybody’s Ballgame,” plunked a note on the heartstrings familiar to us all.

“We put black tape around our first real baseball,” Joe wrote. “I remember you couldn’t play with it on the street or you’d wear it out. With our first good baseball, we just played catch – and we had to be on the grass when we did it . . . some nights that baseball even had a bed to sleep in.”

In his 1984 masterpiece “The Golden People,” Paul Gallico described a typical Babe Ruth home run:

“When the famous, dry ‘click’ was heard as the white ball arched and fielders stood with their hands helplessly placed upon their hips, their heads turned for a last farewell glimpse of the departing sphere, the great roar that exploded from the stands was for the Babe, but the salute was to the unconquerable, unquenchable us.”

Mr. Gallico hit a grand-slam homer with that line. That’s precisely what baseball, the greatest game of all, is about . . .

The unconquerable, unquenchable us.

Though Corky Simpson retired from the Citizen in December, he writes a weekly column.