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Full-Court Press
IT must have been that local television highlight of Benny Agbayani walking or getting hit by a pitch that sent me to the floor like Austin Powers being pummeled by Mini-Me. Just call it Benny
and the (TV) sets"No more, no more," I moan in anguish, remote control in hand. There he was on every channel. Benny catching the ball. Benny being forced at second. Benny crossing the plate. Benny taking high fives.
It's enough to make you want to pull for the Atlanta Braves. Will the real TV GMs please stand up and issue an edict: One more Benny and the Mets, and you're fired. A giant hook will come from off-camera and drag you away like a bad vaudeville act.
Now don't get me wrong. There is obviously news value in Agbayani's role in helping the Mets as they move headlong into the dog day afternoons of August. He's a great story that bears watching. But not all the time.
Pretty soon, all the other local athletes in pro sports are going to demand equal time. Granted, the former St. Louis School standout is a major contributor to his team. But his play hasn't made the same impact as say, Anthony Carter of the Miami Heat.
This former Rainbow basketball player is involved in one of the more memorable shots in NBA playoff history. In the media capital of the world, Carter's game-winning bucket over the backboard to beat the New York Knicks in last summer's NBA playoffs was shown on every station, pictured in every newspaper and discussed on every radio talk show in the Big Apple.
Please, don't go getting any ideas about showing A.C. highlights for all 1,000 regular-season games. There's A.C. dribbling the ball. A.C. shooting the 15-footer. There he is swinging the ball around the perimeter. Look at him sitting next to Riley -- Pat, not Wallace -- on the bench as he watches Tim Hardaway rule the court.
We don't want to get another Agbayani thing going with A.C. or there won't be enough time to show June Jones walking up and down the field. June crossing his arms. June fixing his one-eyed stare at the camera. June talking to his quarterbacks. June telling reporters how he narrowed his quarterback race to the top 100.
By now, I've stopped my kicking and screaming. "Seinfeld" is on. Benny is nowhere to be seen. "What is your problem?" says a voice. It's my wife standing at the door, a not-so-understanding expression upon her face.
THIS dissertation began with the problem of local TV broadcasting. Too much weather. Not enough sports. I can only imagine what horrors await us as the Olympics approach. Brian Viloria getting off the plane. Brian working in the gym. Brian getting acquainted to the speed bag. Brian jumping rope with the kangaroos.
My wife waits for me to tire before saying, "You're hopeless."
Granted, doing features on local players making it big is a perfectly acceptable practice. Fans want to know how their local boys are doing among the Westerners. But please, gentlemen, show a little restraint.
Football season is upon us. At last count, there were about a dozen National Football League players and probably twice that many at the collegiate scene with some kind of tie to these beautiful islands. If they do something spectacular, please show us.
But if it's Jeff Ulbrich drinking water, Jason Elam holding the tee, Maa Tanuvasa giving the shaka sign or Olin Kreutz snapping the ball, you'll likely hear me screaming, "No more. No more."
And sounding a lot like Austin Powers during the pummeling.
Paul Arnett has been covering sports
for the Star-Bulletin since 1990.