The hall of shame | page 1, 2
Olympics bribery scandal
The Olympic movement was rocked by revelations of corruption and vote buying
this year that resulted in the overhaul of the Salt Lake City 2002 Winter Games organizing committee. But the real degenerate to emerge from the sordid ranks was formerly venerable International Olympic Committee President Juan
Antonio Samaranch, who only recently had been thought of as a potential candidate for a Nobel Peace Prize. Samaranch is actually little more than the spoon-fed ringleader for a group of pampered princes and princesses so bereft of
leadership and ethics that bribing them was practically considered de rigueur for cities that wanted a shot at hosting the Games. That much was made clear from dossiers written by Atlanta's successful bid committee, which were released in September by a Congressional committee investigating the abuses. The Atlanta group's
extensive "research" included the following: "Raymond Gafner [U.S. Olympic
Committee representative from Switzerland]: Fan of ice hockey. Perhaps we should
get a stick signed by Wayne Gretzky. Maybe a hockey puck that we would say is
from some famous game (whether that is true or not.) Louis Guirandou-N'Diaye:
Gifts are okay. Gift of female okay."
Falling off the wagon
After battling well-documented eating disorders and alcoholism for years, golf
great John Daly decided he needed a life change in 1999. After missing the cut
at the St. Jude Open in Memphis, Tenn., in June, he broke 26 months of sobriety by downing a 12-pack of Miller Lite while driving home, saying later, "It's sad but it's great to be free." Callaway, his major sponsor, which had previously paid off
$1.7 million of his gambling debts, terminated Daly's $3 million contract, which
seemed fine by the new Daly. "I'd rather just be Chris Farley and play some golf," he said in August, before pulling out of the PGA Championship and heading to Vegas, where he lost a cool half-million bucks. "We only live once," the 33-year-old Daly said. And hey, Farley almost made it to 34.
The umpires strike back
In July more than 50 of Major League Baseball's 93 umpires signed letters of
resignation at the behest of their longtime union leader Richie Phillips, who'd
convinced them that the way to guarantee higher wages than their current $200,000 per year average (for working six months of five-hour days) was to threaten mass resignations in mid-season. It proved to be among the worst
strategies in organized labor history; the owners simply accepted the resignations of 22 umps, many of whom scrambled unsuccessfully to rescind their letters. The owners were happy to see them go, and called up a new crop from the
minors to fill their jobs. Any hope of Phillips rehabilitating his reputation as a labor leader was destroyed in September, when it was discovered that a company he owns and runs, Pilot Air Freight, does $375,000 of business per year with
Major League Baseball and that two umpires who did not sign letters of resignation, but who are union members, are on his payroll. In November, after having lost all of their bargaining power and a score of jobs, an overwhelming majority
of the umps voted to decertify their union and form a new one -- putting an
embarrassing end to the reign of the only union leader they've ever had.
I wanna be like Mike
When Ike "The President" Ibeabuchi knocked out highly touted heavyweight Chris
Byrd in May to become the division's No. 1 contender, it appeared he had overcome the demons that made him kidnap his ex-girlfriend's 15-year-old son last year and drive with him at 70 mph into a concrete pillar, severely injuring
the boy. But when he lunched with HBO boxing chief Lou DiBella in New York two
months later to discuss a deal that would make him a heavily promoted star, "the President" broke protocol and began waiving a steak knife at DiBella, demanding millions more per fight than was being discussed. Within a month, Ibeabuchi had been arrested for raping a Las Vegas call girl, flown out of control during his arraignment and allegedly bitten a guard in Las Vegas jail, thus securing the right to star in an upcoming episode of the fight game's sick and twisted maniac
comeback series.
Here's to you, Mr. Robinson
For all of the NFL's overly rigid rules regarding player's on-field celebratory
antics and gestures, it's hard to imagine a more blatantly overindulgent pre-game gambol than that of Atlanta Falcons safety Eugene Robinson on the eve of January's Super Bowl XXXIII. Hours after receiving the Bart Starr Award for
outstanding leadership at home and in the community from the Christian group
Athletes in Action, the pious Pro Bowler went cruising the streets of Miami for
a pre-game blow job. Heck, his wife, Gia, was already asleep back at the hotel
and he still had 21 hours before kickoff of the biggest game of his career. Unfortunately Robinson, heretofore known to his teammates as "The Prophet," saw
something else coming when the woman he solicited for the $40 job turned out to
be an undercover cop, and Robinson ended up spending the wee hours of Super Bowl Sunday
in the county clink. After serious contemplation, Falcons coach Dan Reeves decided to play Robinson against the Denver Broncos anyway. It's a decision he and the team may now regret: Robinson, who admitted he didn't sleep all night, was burned on two big plays, including an 80-yard touchdown pass, and broke his pinkie trying to tackle Terrell Davis in the Falcons 34-19 loss. At least God, he says, has offered him forgiveness.
salon.com | Dec. 23, 1999
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About the writer
Julian Rubinstein is a staff writer at Gear. He has covered the NBA for Sports Illustrated and the Washington Post.
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