THE 20 MOST MEMORABLE SPORTING EVENTS IN THE HISTORY OF ME

   “Be more positive!” she says.

   “Stick to sports!” he chides.

   “Too many Top 10 lists!” they decry.

   Fine, you win. Today: A warm-’n-fuzzy Top 20 list about sports.

   But first, a little background …

   I lied to get into the sports media business. Sorta.

   Went down like this:

   In 1986, a few months before I graduated UT-Arlington with a degree in journalism, I caught the eye and grabbed the ear of an editor at the Fort Worth Star-Telegram.

   “I’ll do anything, for any price,” I begged, attempting to jam the tip of my toe into what I perceived to be a sliver of an opening in the door.

   “Hmm, okay,” returned the editor. “Do you follow soccer?”

   “Are you kidding?!” I fibbed, having attended a Dallas Tornado game or two as a kid but not really knowing a goal from a goal kick. “One of my favorite sports!”

   Two nights later I was inside Reunion Arena covering a team called the Dallas Sidekicks and a sport called the Major Indoor Soccer League. Orange ball? Walls? A guy who takes his shirt off when he scores? I was clueless. And I was hooked.

Not necessarily on the MISL, but on getting paid to attend sporting events.

   What a scam brilliant career choice.

   I’ve covered sports in the Metroplex for 30+ years, writing/talking about everything from dart tournaments to The Olympics. Today, with a little prodding and a lot of reminiscing, I pieced together the most memorable events I’ve attended during 18 years at the Star-Telegram, seven more at the Dallas Observer, five at CBS Radio/105.3 The Fan, three more at NBC5 and, since the Summer of 2013, here in my own lil’ corner of the blogosphere.

   My initial brain dump birthed 44 memories. I painstakingly narrowed it to 20. Not necessarily the best moments. Merely the most memorable. (Leon Lett, Brett Hull and Bill Clinton's White House just barely missed the cut.)

   Hope you enjoy re-living them half as much as I delighted in covering them.

   20. February 16, 2001; Infield Circus – Assigned to capture the suds, speed and socializing of the Daytona 500, I drove through the tunnel at the Daytona International Speedway and immediately saw a woman. Walking. On her hands. Naked. With grinnin’ guys playing ring toss. Using her legs as the targets. Swear.

   19. April 6, 1997; Mav-Wrecks – Though the franchise had bottomed out a couple years earlier with head coach Quinn Buckner and consecutive 13- and 11-win seasons, the Mavs under the utterly forgettable Jim Cleamons managed only two points – on a pair of Derek Harper free throws – in the third quarter of a lowly loss to the Lakers in The Fabulous Forum.

   18. Nov 30, 2006; Anna Nirvana – Got to play three games of tennis at the T Bar M Racquet Club in North Dallas against one of the hottest females on the planet, Anna Kournikova. Nothing really spectacular about the tennis, other than the fact that it was against one of the hottest females on the planet, Anna Kournikova.

   17. June 20, 1987; Sidekicks Celebrate – Down 3-1 with less than two minutes to play in Game 7 of the MISL Championship Series, the Sidekicks pulled their goalie in desperation. After an improbable two goals to force overtime, Tatu drilled a shot that Mark Karpun re-directed for the goal that stunned the Tacoma Stars and 20,000 fans in the Tacoma Dome. Two days later I covered a championship parade through downtown and around Reunion Arena. Still pinching myself to this day.

   16. Dec. 10, 1989; Bounty Bowl II – After Cowboys’ head coach Jimmy Johnson had chastised the Eagles’ Buddy Ryan for putting out a bounty on kicker Luis Zendejas in a Thanksgiving Day game at Texas Stadium, the payback at Veterans Stadium was gruesome. Philadelphia beat an infamously futile Cowboys team, 20-10, punctuated by batteries wrapped in iceballs hurled at the sideline and even inside CBS’ broadcast booth at Verne Lundquist and Terry Bradshaw.

   15. June 29, 1998; Dirk’s Debut – He stepped off the plane from Wurzburg, Germany all of 19 years old. Chili-bowl, long haircut. Big, gold hoops dangling from his ear. But then Dirk Nowitzki dazzled us inside the Baylor-Tom Landry Center gym. 3-pointers with each hand. And a smooth, flowing stride leading to effortless dunks. The Flamingo Fadeway wasn’t yet born, but just days after the NBA Draft Nowitzki’s eventual Hall-of-Fame star was already rising.

   14. Dec. 20, 2008; Farewell, Old Friend – It was freezing that night. Winter wind whipping through the tunnel at Texas Stadium. But with the Cowboys rallying and former players lined up to see the last game in Texas Stadium it would end up warm and cozy. Right? Nope. As Baltimore Ravens’ fullback LeRon McClain rumbled 82 yards right up Dallas’ gut it almost made us vomit. Then, about 17 months later, an 11-year-old from Tyler pushed a plunger that imploded my all-time favorite sports stadium.

   13. May 14, 2005; Tiger Prowls – Back when Tiger Woods was Tiger Goods, I followed his every move at the Byron Nelson golf tournament. On the 9th fairway he exited a Port-a-Pot … to a rousing ovation.

   12. July 4, 2004; Fantastic Federer – Only thing more amazing than sitting at Centre Court Wimbledon and watching Andy Roddick spank 140-mph serves was witnessing Roger Federer deftly return them for winners with merely a flick of his legendary wrist.

   11. June 17, 1994; The Day The World (Cup) Stopped – International media from the globe’s four corners descended upon Fair Park to cover the World Cup, but suddenly we all found ourselves not watching soccer inside the Cotton Bowl but instead huddled around a TV in the Hall of State’s makeshift media center gawking at another type of football player. It was O.J. Simpson, leading Los Angeles police on a low-speed chase.

   10. January 17, 1993; How ‘Bout Them Cowboys?! – Candlestick Park. The mud. Major underdogs. Up 24-20 with four minutes remaining, but backed up to their own 10. Get conservative and work on the clock? Nah. How about Troy Aikman to Alvin Harper for the most important 70-yard pass play in franchise history. Cowboys 30, 49ers 20. Hello, Super Bowl.

   9. February 28, 1989; Doomsday Indeed – Only days after he was fired by new owner Jerry Jones, Cowboys’ coach Tom Landry went to Valley Ranch and cleaned out his office. Unfortunately, I had to document every sad detail.

   8. June 14, 1998; The Joy of Six – With his Chicago Bulls on the brink of losing Game 6 and having to play a Game 7 in the Delta Center against the Utah Jazz, Michael Jordan scored, stole the ball from Karl Malone and then deftly shoved Bryon Russell out of the way before swishing an 18-foot jumper to seal his sixth title. We forget John Stockton front-rimmed an open 3-pointer at the buzzer.

   7. October 22, 2010; Hello, World Series! – When closer Neftali Feliz struck out Alex Rodriguez on a nasty curveball, our goose bumps had goose bumps. Yep, after 38 seasons the Texas Rangers were finally going to the World Series.

   6. February 8, 1986; Soaring Spud – On NBA All-Star Saturday at Reunion Arena it was 5-foot-7 Spud Webb who stole the show by winning the Slam Dunk title. But in the locker room it was Celtics’ legend Larry Bird who chugged a Lone Star beer, loudly burped and then offered “Excuse me, I’ve got a trophy to win.” He then went out and at one point made 12 straight 3-pointers en route to the Long Distance Shootout championship.

   5. July 27, 1996; Olympic Bombing – During The Summer Olympics in Atlanta I saw Michael Johnson’s double in the 200/400, the Dream Team cream everybody and Andre Agassi win gold. But it was 1:30 a.m. when our bus taking us to our dorms at Emory University abruptly stopped. Announced our driver, “A bomb went off in Centennial Park.” Still makes me queasy. I had been there 20 minutes before. And now I was headed back.

   4. August 22, 1989; 5,000 – I was assigned to paint the scene surrounding Nolan Ryan’s historic 5,000th strikeout. Not Nolan fanning the A’s Rickey Henderson or the ball caught by Chad Krueter, but more so the scalpers selling box seats for, get this, $150 a pop. Probably go for $1,500 today.

   3. October 27, 2011; Title Tease - One strike away. Twice. I was lined up with a gaggle of media underneath Busch Stadium, awaiting the Texas Rangers’ World Series celebration that would never happen. Plastic was hung from lockers. Boxes of championship hats and T-shirts were carted past. But after David Freese tripled off Neftali Feliz in the 9th, Lance Berkman singled off Scott Feldman in the 10th and Freese homered off Mark Lowe in the 11th to end a dramatic, gut-wrenching Game 6, it was instead our worst case of blue balls. Ever.

   2. January 31, 1993; 'Boys Are Back – From Garth Brooks’ National Anthem to Michael Jackson’s halftime show to Troy Aikman’s four touchdown passes to the nine turnovers, the Cowboys’ 52-17 romp over the Buffalo Bills in Super  Bowl XXVII will be eternally vivid.

   1. June 12, 2011; Finals, Finally – As Nowitzki made a lefty layup to give the Mavs a nine-point lead in the final minute, I found myself trying to do my job – blog and type and talk – amidst a stream of tears. Couldn't have been more perfect. In Miami, against the Heat team and villainous player (Dwyane Wade) that ruined the ’06 party. Favorite moment: Original owner Don Carter handing the Larry O’Brien trophy to Finals MVP Nowitzki. Sometimes, if you stick with it long enough, life turns out to be fair after all.

GIVE ME LIBERTY (OF SPEECH) ... OR GIVE ME (AND YOU) DEATH!

   An egomaniac that arrogantly tip-toed close to being a domineering, autocratic czar of the '90s Dallas Cowboys, even Jimmy Johnson knew the value of a free and robust press.
   In those days at Valley Ranch, Johnson would host a weekly "fireside chat." In his office. Sans notebooks or recorders. Just a group of reporters chewing the fat and talking shop, football, politics, movies - anything and everything - with the leader of the free world's favorite football team.
   America's Team.
   To me and my Fort Worth Star-Telegram co-beat writer Mike Fisher, to Ed Werder and Tim Cowlishaw of the Dallas Morning News, and to Mickey Spagnola and Susie Woodhams of the Dallas Times Herald, it was a disarming, refreshing and enlightening forum. Despite each of us at times writing various unflattering stories about Johnson or his hair or his team, we never in our darkest dreams imagined being banned from the chats or labeled "fake news." Johnson might fume. He would purse his lips. But he knew that, ultimately, we were an asset to his kingdom.
   Why? Because although there was once a decadent "White House" in Valley Ranch just a Michael Irvin "skinny post" from Johnson's office, there is only one Donald Trump. And the leader of America's immeasurably more important team's irrational ambush on our free press is simultaneously alarming and dangerous.
   This - to be clear - isn't an attack on Trump. It's an attack on his attack. A reaction to his unscrupulous action.
   In the wake of our President labeling anything unflattering to him as "fake news", the White House recently banned legitimate news outlets from an off-camera "gaggle" - Washington, D.C.'s version of the "fireside chat". Trump subsequently blasted the mainstream media as "the enemy of the American people".
   Let that sink in: Because his thin-skinned, insecure ego cannot take scrutiny - much less criticism - The President of the United States would have you believe that Breitbart News is more credible, more fair and more balanced than The New York Times.
   I migrated into journalism because I was curious. Because I enjoyed looking at standard objects from unique angles. And because I cherished nothing more than educated, fact-based opinions on highly debated topics.
   Considering Trump's assault on free speech, seems the perfect time to remind that a free press works for you, the People. You have jobs. You have lives. You don't have time - or a credential - to go to press conference starring Trump or Mark Cuban or Dak Prescott. So the media is your conduit. It gets the As to the Qs you want asked. According to The Constitution, the media is allowed - encouraged, even - to probe, to question, to disagree.
   It's that freedom of the press that is vital part of America's checks and balances. It's our first line of defense against the erosion of Democracy. But Trump is trying to discredit it, as a captor would apply Duct Tape to its victim.
   He's an authoritarian, steamrolling toward dictatorship. No? I prefer to be fair and to, first and foremost, get the facts straight. After that we can worry about who was right and who was wrong. Just not sure Trump shares that vision and semblance of order.
   As a long-time writer in DFW, one of my favorite criticisms was being labeled a "hater." As in, "Damn Debbie Downer, go write someplace else if you hate the Cowboys so much." See, I'm a lifelong Cowboys fan that - deep down - painfully pulls for them to win every year, every game, every snap. But as a mainstream media reporter I was paid to be unbiased, to pursue with equal vigor neither stories positive nor negative. But, rather, the truth.
   The reporters at CNN or The Los Angeles Times have opinions, and - like you and I - they have a vote. But they can't afford to blur personal and professional, lest they be unemployed by sundown.
   Are there websites and publications pushing particular, transparent agendas? You betcha. But I still believe the mainstream media isn't among them. And you should as well. A player for the Washington Redskins isn't automatically an asshole. Any more than a newspaper writer or TV anchor that disagrees you is therefore and undeniably a buffoon.
   That's not fake news. It's flawed logic.

   A good, credible reporter lives comfortably in the safe space between carrying pompoms and carrying a pitchfork. In a memorable fireside chat moment, Johnson revealed his desired relationship with the media:
   "I don't expect you to help row the boat,"  he said, "but don't go out of your way to punch a hole in the bottom of it, either."
   When did I know I had penned a fair piece?When the home fans called me a "hater" and the opposing fans labeled me a "homer."
   I realize that Trump demonizing the press with his hollow, lazy, simpleton "fake news" catchphrase plays harmoniously to his fawning, nodding base that is teetering on becoming a cult. But I also recognize that the petty pigeon-holing of something so important - it is, after all, the First Amendment - sets an ominous tone.
   The other countries on this planet whose leaders have deemed the free press an "enemy": Venezuela, Burma, Cuba, China, Russia and North Korea. Is that really what Trump considers "good" company? State-run news agencies thrive in dictatorships, not democracies.
   Or else?
   Or else the good ol' US of A will deteriorate into North Korea.
   Those citizens - barred from a free press and beholden to only a single news outlet controlled by a singular voice - actually refer to their president (Kim Jong-un) as "Supreme Leader." Worse, they have been told brainwashed into believing that Jong-un's father and predecessor, Kim Jong-il, actually recorded a 300 the first time he picked up a bowling ball, and aced five holes en route to an 18-hole score of 34 in his first round of golf. And, of course, if you lived in the Soviet Union in 1980 you still haven't heard about the U.S.' "Miracle on Ice" upset of the Russian hockey team in the Winter Olympics.
   Just a hunch, but I'm guessing that in the USSR any state-run media account of the USA's remarkable gold-medal run was labeled ... say it with me ... "Fake news!"
   Ignorance isn't bliss. It's perilous.
   Look, we're all entitled to our own opinions. But we're not entitled to our own facts.
   The Onion is fake news.
   Warren Beatty's Oscars envelope is fake news.
   Lying is fake news.
   Perhaps it's time Johnson met Trump at Mar-a-Lago for a little fireside chat.

DEAD 'N GONE: VALLEY RANCH

Home, Sweet ... Gone

   You know how you know when you're old? When your sports playgrounds are deemed archaic and impractical.
   Yeah, ouch.
   For me, hitting the big Five-Oh wasn't a big deal. The real punch to the ever-softening gut is losing the venues that shaped most of my sports memories and a good chunk of my media career.
   Arlington Stadium. Reunion Arena. Texas Stadium. All kaput in the name of capitalistic growth. Next on the chopping block: Valley Ranch. Which for four years in the glorious early '90s was my office and, on a couple of occasions, my bed.
   The Cowboys opened the practice facility north of 635 on MacArthur Road in 1985. For on-field football purposes, it's closed for business. When the team returns from training camp in Oxnard this summer it'll move into the new Star in Frisco, with a grand christening slated for Aug. 27.
   And just like that, Valley Ranch will be tossed onto DFW's pile of discarded iconic venues alongside Bronco Bowl, Baby Doe's, Starck Club and Sanger-Harris. As part of my 18-year run at the Fort Worth Star-Telegram I covered the Cowboys from 1989-94. I wrote there. I lived there. I made friends there. I sometimes slept there.
   I loved there.
   Progress can take my buildings, but it can't delete my memories ...
   10. Good Ol' Day Syndrome - The football and the freedom were drastically better around Valley Ranch in the '90s. In an era only at the dawn of the mainstream Internet and way before social media, there was no need for media IDs. No "Players Only" parking lot. No restricted areas. Regularly during my time as a beat writer I borrowed shorts and a T-shirt from equipment man Mike McCord to play racquetball, waltzed back into the coaches area to watch tape with then-kicking coach Steve Hoffman and, on a couple of occasions after being over-served at nearby Cowboys Cafe, slept in the FWS-T cubicle adjacent to the locker room. How laid back was the vibe? One day FWS-T partner Mike Fisher and I went out onto the practice field for an impromptu Punt, Pass & Kick Contest with our friends/rivals Ed Werder and Tim Cowlishaw of the Dallas Morning News. Try that today and you'll be a headline rather than merely a punchline.
   9. The Hot Seat - In our tiny broom closet of an "office" we had enough room for a table and three chairs. One for me. One for Fisher. And one for guests. Players - Hall of Famers, turns out - would regularly come sit down on their way out the door. Just for casual conversation. To bullshit. "I'm not coming in here to be grilled on the hot seat," Troy Aikman once pronounced. Right then and there, we dubbed the empty chair "The Hot Seat." Michael Irvin. Emmitt Smith. Jay Novacek. Tony Casillas. Larry Brown. Even Jimmy Johnson, Jerry Jones, Brad Sham and Dale Hansen. Name a member of the Cowboys' '90s dynasty and chances are they sat a spell in our Hot Seat. I cherish those times. Because it wasn't notebooks and recorders and formality and on-the-record, but more so just a chance to blow off steam. To talk. Irvin was probably the most frequent visitor. One day he sat down, grabbed our land-line telephone, propped up his feet and spent at least an hour talking to ... who knows? Kevin Gogan popped his head in, saw Irvin making himself at home and yelled "Damn, I need to call ahead for a Hot Seat reservation?" In the week after a loss I handed Irvin the latest NFL statistics in which he was near the top of the league leaders in receptions and yards. "We just lost!" he said, getting up from the Hot Seat while crumpling the paper into a ball and firing it at our trash can. He left. And, of course, soon came back. "Psst," he said, pretending to be covert, "where's that paper?" His exit was punctuated by the trademark Irvin guffaw.
   8. Center Stage - I always kidded long-snapper Dale Hellestrae that he wasn't really a football player. "Snapping is an art form," he'd retort. So one day he bet us that he could snap a ball into the window of a speeding car. "You're on," we said collectively. But I'll be damned if Hellestrae didn't bend over and between his legs launch a perfect spiral through the passenger window of the Lincoln Town Car driven at 35 mph through the Valley Ranch parking lot by Mark Stepnoski.
   7. Merry, um, Christmas - In the early '90s "breaking news" was whatever appeared in tomorrow's newspaper. But the competition to "win" the day's paper was fierce. That's the reason I spent most of Christmas Eve, 1991 at Valley Ranch. Through sources, Fisher and I had obtained every NFL player's salary. But, of course, it was given to us as raw material, printed on a thick stack of paper. Today we'd simply upload the file onto a website and, voila, news. But back then we had to manually type in every name, every salary, every signing bonus. It started around Noon on Christmas Eve and ended ... just in time for Santa.
   6. Mutual Vomit - I witnessed Alexander Wright run a 4.14 40-yard dash on Valley Ranch's outside track and stood beside a freaked out Smith after he watched magician David Blaine seemingly levitate, but the most amazing performance came in '94 when Jones and Johnson held that infamous charade of a press conference to announce their divorce. During that 30-minute debacle I don't think one honest word was uttered. At the time the two men had zero respect for each other and their parting was anything was mutual or amicable. It was a tug-of-war, fueled by jealousy and targeted at credit. And, yes, it was down right disgusting.
   5. Identical Intensity - In '97 Irvin went ballistic on the media for reporting that he and teammate Erik Williams had sexually assaulted a woman. Claiming his innocence, he hurled a huge rubber trash can through the locker room and implored the media to use the "same intensity" when eventually reporting the clearing of his name. In fact the woman's claim was false. The trash can, however, suffered irreparable damage.
   4. Jimmy Genuine - Once a week Johnson would invite the print media - sans notebooks or recorders - into his office for a casual visit. The "fireside chat" it became known as. In it we could bring up topics, offer our opinions, engage in back and forth, touch on personal stuff, whatever. We just couldn't publish anything from the chat. One time Johnson started the chat by chastising me for documenting the play-by-play of his team's 2-minute drill at the end of practice. An opponent, he reasoned, could use that information and be prepared defensively come crunch-time. "I won't ask you to help row this boat," he said to me sternly, "but I demand that you don't punch holes in it." Message, received.
   3. Richie Shit - Charles Haley was one of the best players and baddest people I ever covered at Valley Ranch. Years later we'd hug it out and Haley apologized for tormenting me, blaming his erratic behavior on being diagnosed as bipolar. But in '93 being serenaded as "Richie Shiiiiiiit" and used for target practice was wholly un-fun. As I interviewed Aikman at his locker, a roll of athletic tape whizzed between our heads. Like a menacing bazooka with bad intentions, I mean, it's just tape. But it's a thick roll. Getting konked by it would be about like getting dinged with a battery. And Haley was firing the rolls at me from 100 feet across the locker room. "Stop writing about me, motherfucker!" Haley cackled. "Don't you even write my name!" Me (ducking): "You have any control over him?" Aikman (leaving): "Yeah, right. Good luck,"
   2. Spit Happens - One day Aikman is in the Hot Seat, flipping through the cheerleaders' calendar and bitchin' about how "Hail Mary" passes count as legit interceptions. "I think I'll just start taking a sack and maybe we'll stop calling that stupid play," he joked. As I pretend to listen while feverishly writing on deadline, I reach over and take a swig of my Sprite. Uh-oh. At the time the quarterback was huge into dipping tobacco. Always carried a paper Gatorade cup lined with a napkin in which to spit. On this day - lucky me - apparently he upgraded to an empty Sprite can. Guess who was too busy working to realize he'd picked up the wrong cup? Immediately, um, I knew. And realized I had two unfathomably nauseating choices: 1. Swallow Aikman's coagulated funk of saliva and tobacco and attempt not to vomit; 2. Violently spit and reveal my grotesque gaffe, and forever be the punchline that once had Aikman's bodily fluid in his mouth. Spit or swallow? I chose the latter, accepting one horrendous experience over a lifetime of ridicule. Until now, I guess.
   1. Goodbye, God's Coach - My first time at Valley Ranch forged the most lasting memory. In '89 I made my virginal voyage to the complex to help FWS-T writers chronicle the final days of Tom Landry. He'd been fired by Jones and any day now would clean out his office and leave for good. Today was that day. As a lifelong Cowboys' fan, I grew up worshiping St. Landry. And now I was helping fan the flames of his funeral. I watched him meander through the weight room exchanging handshakes and hugs. Late in the day I turned a corner inside the building and almost bumped into - yep - Tom Friggin' Landry. "Excuse me, young man," he said, as I froze, speechless in awe. Along with up-close encounters with Prince and Anna Kournikova, it's as star-struck as I've been in 30 years in media.

WHITT'S END: 2.25.14

      Whether you're at the end of your coffee, your day, your week or even your rope, welcome to Whitt's End:

   *It's better to be lucky than great ...

   *Our sports world changed forever 25 years ago today ...

   *Apparently it's okay for teachers to sext with students as long as ...

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20 Years Later, Cowboys' Same Greedy Strategy Produces Drastically Different Results

   One of the most memorable plays in Dallas Cowboys' history was born of illogical desperation and founded upon a distrust of the defense.
   No, not Sunday's interception by Tony Romo in which he changed a run into a pass and then transformed a sack into a pick. I'm talking about the play that ignited their 1990s dynasty.
   On January 17, 1993 the Cowboys were clinging to a 24-20 lead on the 49ers in the NFC Championship Game in the slop of Candlestick Park ...

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