Everything But Poker

The one frustration I’ve always had about sports reporting is that most athletes don’t give a damn about you or the questions you have. A lot of the time, that’s actually the fun part of the job: trying to make a connection with these people in a limited amount of time so that you can tell their story. But all too often, you find yourself groveling at these guys’ backs for three-word, automated clichés. And nowhere is this frustration more prevalent than on the Red Carpet, an alternate universe of celebrity fawning and journalistic desperation.

Last week I got a space on the Red Carpet for the annual Harold Pump Foundation Gala, a fundraising event benefiting cancer research and honoring the accomplishments and philanthropy of Magic Johnson and Bill Russell. It was a grandiose, glitzy event set in the same building that hosts the Golden Globe Awards. There were famous actors and some of the biggest sports stars around. And I was there to get them to say something, anything, to me.

There are three types of people that walk on the Red Carpet:
-- The predominantly smoking hot army of PR handlers that makes sure the famous people get through the line of media in a relatively swift manner.
-- The famous people that are heavily involved with the event itself, be it an award show, banquet or movie premier.
-- The other celebrities, who are there just to add popularity points and a whole lot more money/sponsorships.

The first group is easy to spot. They are all dressed the same, carry clipboards and walkie talkies, and they pace back and forth like furious flight attendants.

The last two groups, though, are much more of a crapshoot. For this event, given the honorees and the foundation’s purpose, it was a pretty good bet that the older athletes were those that actually contributed to the foundation. This left me to assume that the current athletes, recently retired jocks and seemingly incongruous celebrities smiled for the ‘razzi only to add style points to the event. Ahh, but we all know that when you assume, you make an “ass” out of “u” and “me.” There wasn’t much question as to why Blake Griffin or Brandon Jennings might have been there — they can’t give any money until their first check arrives, anyway. But Sugar Ray Leonard? Pete Sampras? Paul Pierce? Who knows, right?

All this uncertainty did a hell of a job messing with my head as I tried to hurl questions at the greatest athletes I had ever been around. Again, that first group of athletes – the ones who have a deep investment in the foundation – were more than eager to applaud the work of the Pump brothers and the accomplishments of Magic and Mr. Russell. Those guys were easy.

But as the rest of the celebs came shuffling down the carpet, some of who were just as confused about why they were there as I was, I slipped slowly into a sports fan’s twilight zone, dumbfounded by the tactics used by my press corps compadres to get a sound bite from anyone.

Did that guy really just ask Sam Jones why he’s here honoring Magic since his Lakers beat the Celtics a couple times in the 80’s? Sam Jones is like 75. He retired when Magic was 10. I’m pretty sure he’s not too worked up about Magic’s rings. Maybe he’s here to benefit CANCER RESEARCH.

Wait, you’ve got Pete Sampras in front of you and you ask what he remembers about the 1995 UCLA basketball team? This is the BEST TENNIS PLAYER EVER and you ask him about the Jim Harrick-Ed O’Bannon Bruins? Where am I?

It only took a couple minutes for the four other reporters around me to swallow up the big shots on the other side of the rope for interviews. Doc Rivers, gone. Elgin Baylor, gone. Dana Pump, gone.

Oh hey, there’s Luc Robitaille! Let’s get him on camera!

I racked my brain for anything that might pertain to him and had any connection to the night’s event. Hockey … Los Angeles … Magic Johnson …



2010 Olympics! GOLD! Right? By this time I was sweating enough that I seriously considered making a dash back to my car for some help from the emergency deodorant in my trunk, but I held my ground. At one point the guy to my right, who happened to be former UCLA Bruins guard Kris Johnson reporting for JerseyChasers.com, tapped me on the shoulder to see if I was holding up all right – I think he was just jealous he didn’t get Luc. The athletes kept pouring down the aisle and soon I realized that I had become one of "them", the jackass reporters who just shout marginally relevant words at athletes to garner so much as a glace. Bear witness.



I did manage to pull out one thoughtful response, though, in the midst of all this madness. I had read that Pitt basketball coach Jamie Dixon had visited the Steelers’ training camp a couple days earlier and asked him what he could gain from watching a football team practice. Aside from his mild concern that I was stalking him (I assured him that I found this out from the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette web site), he gave a great response about his relationship with the entire Steelers organization.



And lastly, the night wouldn’t have been complete without a few words from the extraneous celebrities, a collection of actors and performers of varying talent and fame. Cedric the Entertainer and Jason Segel, take us home.



Tiger, Cedric? Really? He seriously strikes you as a good setup man for your comedy routine? OK, you’re the professional.