The Way I See It
I had expected to cover the 1999-2000 Rainbow men's basketball team all the way to the Western Athletic Conference playoffs in Fresno next March. Rainbows could
use my servicesBut since I can no longer count on that, I think I'd better find another way to survive.
I do want to see the 'Bows rebound from their 6-20 season and I have spent a lot of time getting to know the new recruits.
These guys have promise. But I think I could be the missing piece to the puzzle. I really do.
What if I could walk on as a guard, and what if Wallace felt enough pity to give me his last scholarship? I could live off that scholarship as long as he pledged not to cut me. When I asked him, Wallace didn't say my chances of making the team were slim. (He called them anorexic.)
But he didn't say no.
In fact, as I was leaving his office, I thought I heard him mutter, "Anything you say, Bigold," as he stretched back in his chair.
I told him there were indeed some advantages to signing a fortyish, out-of-shape, 5-foot-7 midget with no reflexes. And I said the fact that my self-imposed training table often consists of a Mocha Frappuccino and a bag of chocolate chip cookies should not interfere with his judgment.
I could help the team in clutch situations.
When there are about five seconds left on the clock and the 'Bows are down by one point, I told Wallace that's when he could put me in the game.
I could break down whatever defensive strategy the other team had in place because the defenders would be mesmerized by the decision to insert a humanoid penguin in a singlet.
I'd start jumping up and down and waving my arms like I expected point guard Johnny White to snap a pass to me in the corner. That in itself would induce laughter because my shorts would probably fall to the hardwood the first time my feet left the floor.
Ever try to concentrate on something very important while you're laughing? Hard isn't it? Well, therein would lie the genius of Wallace's substitution.
White could drive the lane unmolested and score the winning basket while the defense was rolling on the floor guffawing.
AND then I asked the coach, who better to use when he wants to employ the press than an experienced reporter?
Or, when he wants to break the press, I could certainly be used as a consultant.
There's also the possibility of my replacing the Rainbow Warrior.
I know this has been a touchy subject lately, but give my idea a chance.
Since I don't qualify physically to look like a warrior, I am proposing to become the Rainbow Worrier.
I could appear on the sidelines when the Rainbows were losing a lead, or in danger of being blown out, and just look really, really worried.
Focus the Stan Sheriff Center scoreboard camera right on my face.
I could use my most dramatic frown, the one that makes me look very constipated, and the fans would know it was time to get concerned. They'd start stomping their feet, yelling, and bringing in extra balloons to wave behind the opposition's free-throw basket.
I tell you, it does NO good to strike up the band or have the cheerleaders come out to do flips when Hawaii's momentum is slipping. People can't tell the 'Bows are in trouble.
You MUST have a Rainbow Worrier.
So, what do you say, Hugh?
Pat Bigold has covered sports for daily newspapers
in Hawaii and Massachusetts since 1978.