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Full-Court Press
FRED vonAppen's old football helmet was supposed to stay in the garage to keep the bad vibes from drifting up the flight of stairs. Rainbow helmet
resurrectedNot long after rescuing it from the trash 18 months ago, I came to view this item as the heart of darkness, an unhappy talisman better left alone on some forgotten shelf.
But my wife had other ideas.
After watching the local TV hoopla last night regarding the University of Hawaii's sudden change of heart and colors, she slipped out back.
I was too wrapped up in trying to assimilate all the nicknames and colors to even notice. When she left, I was mumbling to myself, "Let's see now, you can be a Warrior, but no Rainbows allowed in June Jones' house."
Men's basketball will try Rainbow Warriors, but reserves the right to drop the Warriors' tag should Riley Wallace suddenly think he's coaching at Golden State. And Les Murakami's farewell tour also will carry the moniker of Rainbow Warriors.
Thanks to gender equity, the women have a choice as well. They can be the Wahine or the Rainbow Wahine. No wonder Leigh Steinberg wanted a piece of this marketing action. UH officials will need Kathy Lee's labor force to handle all the T-shirts and caps. There are more combos than a Denny's All-Star breakfast.
The sound of the garage door closing snapped me out of my reverie as my wife walked back into the room, vonAppen's dusty helmet in hand.
"What's that thing doing in here?" I said, instinctively making the sign of the cross. "That helmet is 5-31 lifetime and is the owner of the longest losing streak in UH history. Keep it away from me."
Now I know I sounded a bit paranoid. Covering a team that goes 0-12 is -- to paraphrase Juliet Capulet -- an honor that I dreamed not of. Granted, the pain can't compare with that of the players, coaches and fans, but walking into a dressing room that can't recall victory isn't fun and games.
Your journalistic brethren ask in wonder, "What's it like to cover an 0-12 team? You truly have gone where few have gone before." The thought of it made me shiver. VonAppen's helmet can't be allowed in the house.
AS usual, my wife ignored my protests, preferring to take it to the sink to wash off the dust. Once finished, she dried it and put it on the coffee table, the nearly extinct Rainbow emblem adorning both sides.
"How many miles did you drive that time to find Chops for $85?" my wife asked me of an excursion in California to purchase the relatively rare Ty Beanie Baby. "What was it, 500 hundred miles?"
Yeah, so what's your point?
"When you were in San Francisco last week, how much was that autographed baseball of Mickey Mantle worth that you saw in the window? What was it, $750? And you have one in that old shoe box in the closet."
True, my sister's first husband's grandmother sold Mantle his house in Dallas. For a Christmas gift, my sister got him to autograph a baseball for me. But I still wasn't catching my wife's drift.
"How many of those helmets do you think are running around the island right now, hmmm?" she asked with a glint in her eye. "It's the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, a one-of-an-EBay-kind."
Perhaps, I thought, as she put it on a bedroom shelf. But just looking at it made me feel very uneasy inside.
"If Hawaii loses to Portland State," I said, "it's back in the garage with that thing."
Her reply, "Do you think Fred will autograph it?"
That's where I draw the line, I thought to myself. Now, if I can only convince my wife.
Paul Arnett has been covering sports
for the Star-Bulletin since 1990.