---

No free espionage
this week

THERE is a scene in that masterpiece of American cinema known as "Coming to America" in which Mr. McDowell (you know, J.J.'s dad in "Good Times") spots a man with a camera down the street, snapping pictures at his fast-food restaurant, McDowell's. Mr. McDowell is enraged, chases the man off. Semi and Akeem don't understand. They want to know what's up.

The man was from McDonald's, Mr. McDowell explained. A spy for the competition, trying to take pictures.

There was no way Mr. McDowell was going to stand there and let his rival see what he was up to. There was no way he was going to let the guy he was trying to beat get away with photographic evidence of the things he does.

Which brings us to this latest controversy of the moment surrounding June Jones and the Hawaii football program.

(You can almost set your watch by this stuff. 5 ... 4 ... 3 ... 2 ... )

It seems that Michigan State has allegedly refused to trade game-film videotapes with UH, violating one of those semisacred unwritten rules.

Then, the story goes, UH went to Michigan State's first opponent to try and get a tape of the game -- but apparently Kent State was told not to give Hawaii any tape, either.

Now, there is always a little more to every story, and miscommunication in these matters happens all the time. You could see how something like this could innocently go horribly wrong.

But I buy it. It's believable. This just might be pretty much how it played out.

After last year's game -- in which the Spartans were buried under an avalanche of penalty flags in a home contest Hawaii absolutely had to win in order to get into its hometown bowl game -- Michigan State is so bitter, I could actually see them doing something like that.

Couldn't you?

After the way last year's game went, absolutely.

But don't think Hawaii is too heartbroken over this latest development. We know Jones' personality. He'll get a lot more inspiration out of this chip on his shoulder than he would have in looking at the film against a bad Kent State team. He broke down a Spartans' game film last year and is already familiar with their schemes and tendencies.

No, in a revenge game sure to be filled with sound and fury, claiming a little bitterness of its own might have been a good move for UH.

So now that we can breathe a sigh of relief that this season's first mini-feud is out of the way (what's the over-under on that this year? Four?), we're free to see that isn't even the most bizarre part of this whole thing.

Let's go back to Mr. McDowell. He chased away the guy who wanted a picture of his restaurant.

And yet here are football coaches just giving tapes away, back and forth. "Here's what we do. And how we do it. These are our tendencies. Take a look. Feel free! Here!"

Voluntarily. Enthusiastically. To the point that it's considered rude not to do it.

Don't you find that strange?

Why willingly give your opponent more chances to beat you?

Do Pepsi and Coke swap recipes?

Would McDonald's and Burger King exchange last quarter's business plans?

It's insane.

How did football coaches get to the point where they give each other their game films, letting the opponent better prepare for them, rather than keeping secret what they can?

"I have no idea," Jones said.

That's disappointing. He usually has a good answer for stuff like this. He'd told us stories of being there at the creation of the term "in the box." I thought he might know.

"I have no idea," Jones said. "Every team in America does it. You should probably find out from somebody how it started."

That would make a good story.

Until then, my theory is that football coaches just like looking at film. Love poring over it, love trying to find that one weakness that will make a difference in the game. They love it so much they'll even give their own up (their confidence is so great, that they'll find something you won't), just to get their hands on yours.

It's become a tradition.

You know this week will be interesting when you've got a couple of guys with other ideas.