Just in case you’ve let things slide while reading that much-overdue new book on the life story of Michelle Kwan, 17, we feel it our duty to review another Olympic moment.
Organizers of the February Winter Games in Japan received $3,000 from the U.S. men’s hockey team. It was the first check of the tournament authored by our heroes, and they waited until March to act, but at least they attempted to renounce their amateur standing.
Now, if only the gumshoes investigating this international incident would do the same.
Shortly after Chris Chelios, captain of America’s helmeted figure skaters, shipped 380,711 yen and an apology to Nagano, he discovered to his dismay that the issue was not closed.
Dick Schultz, executive director of the U.S. Olympic Committee, announced that he would not sleep in peace until he learned the identity of the players who destroyed those official Olympic chairs and emptied those official Olympic fire extinguishers.
Also, National Hockey League Commissioner Gary Bettman, who is indeed alive and conscious, chipped in with a similar opinion, that Chelios’ somewhat tardy gesture was appreciated but insufficient. Bettman evidently wants names and numbers, too.
Well, now, if a mere typist-clerk such as yours truly can pick up the phone, talk to three informed souses who were in Nagano and determine guilty parties beyond reasonable doubt, one would think the combined clout of two agitated, embarrassed athletic organizations could do likewise.
There are some big wheels on the U.S. Olympic Committee, notably George Frankensteinbrenner, boss of the Yankees and the prototypical hands-on sports tycoon. He makes Jerry Reinsdorf look like an absentee owner. You mean to say that King George couldn’t get to the bottom of this in a New York minute?
Meanwhile, the NHL has venerable businessmen such as Dollar Bill Wirtz. Seven of his Blackhawks went to Japan, which is one way to avenge Pearl Harbor. But Wirtz didn’t endorse the idea of pros in the Olympics, nor does he care for this endless taffy pull about who did what and when.
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At least I think that’s what Dollar Bill thinks. He wrote a critical letter to Bettman citing the Brobdingnagians and Lilliputians and suggesting we move on to more important matters because Capt. Queeg can’t figure out who stole the strawberries.
Now, I don’t know anything about strawberries, except that’s probably not what caused our NHL heroes to cut through the Olympic Village like a Zamboni in the wee hours. But I do agree with Wirtz that it’s time to call off the dogs.
Some of the threats have been hilarious. Ban those 23 ingrates from participating in the next snowball fight at Salt Lake City? Like they really wanted to go to Nagano?
Considering the quenchless thirst of our vanquished heroes, a better punishment would be to demand that all 23 players go to Salt Lake City in 2002, even if they’ve retired by then. Without beer for three weeks, the lads won’t be tossing fire extinguishers out the window. They’ll be drinking them.
If I had the proper pedigree, and enough dandruff, to join those blue blazers on the U.S. Olympic Committee, I’d vote to halt this witch hunt and worry instead about why so few Americans bothered watching the silly little made-for-TV program from Nagano. I’d also suggest that NHL players stay home in 2002 and attack their own property.
In a way, our heroes should be commended for stonewalling authorities and not ratting on rambunctious mates. Had the U.S. squad been that together on the ice, a trip halfway around the world might have claimed more victims than mighty Belarus.
But enough of the furniture police. Leave it that the entire group is at fault. The way our heroes played hockey in Japan last month, it probably took all 23 of them to break a chair, anyway.