Johnette Howard and Christine Brennan

Hey Johnette--

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Oh man, you're going to get me started on those money-grubbing old geezers from the IOC, aren't you? Oh well, here goes ...

I cringe when I hear someone refer to "the Salt Lake City scandal," because, while the people from SLC weren't right, the real culprits were the IOC members with their hands out, palms up. As you know, I've written at least a half-dozen times that Juan Antonio Samaranch should resign. Obviously, he disagrees.

I can't believe that the sponsors and athletes are letting the IOC get away with this recent charade on, ah-hem, reform. Those new gadgets and gimmicks the IOC put into place so a scandal like last year's doesn't occur again are so much smoke and mirrors. The IOC still runs everything, even its new ethics commission. The outside influence is minimal. And yet the sponsors don't scream and stomp their feet; they simply want it to go away--and, maybe in our hearts, all of us do too. For even as I cover the "reform" package and rant and rave about the IOC deception, I say: Get me to Sydney. Get me to the Olympic trials. Get me to the athletes, and to their remarkable and emotional stories.

It's kind of like getting all worked up about what George Pataki is doing if you love Doug Flutie and the Buffalo Bills. Pataki is to Flutie what Samaranch is to, say, Marion Jones. A bureaucrat, figurehead, political guy. But invisible on the field of play. And of no interest to us whatsoever once the game or race begins.

This scandal did produce one of my favorite anecdotes of 1999. The IOC's crack investigator of all the bribe-taking and other nonsense was Dick Pound, IOC vice president from Canada. One guy who got into big trouble on the bribe-front was Phil Coles, an IOC member from Australia. And, I might add, a very good friend of Dick Pound's.

So Pound has to interrogate Coles to find out what he did and, ultimately, whether he stays or goes. The question-and-answer session occurs in Lausanne, Switzerland, one afternoon.

When it ends, everyone heads off to dinner.

And who does Pound go to dinner with?

Phil Coles.

I know it will shock you to find out that, even as we speak, Phil Coles is a member in good standing of the venerable International Olympic Committee.

Yeah, the O.J. trial was bizarre, but as far as I know, Marcia Clark, Judge Ito and Simpson never, ever, fought over a check at the dinner table.

As I said, get me to Sydney, get me to the opening ceremony and the torch and the hymns, and I'll be fine.

Before I go, I must share this Snowstorm of the Century media story:

A TV reporter standing in a suburban neighborhood yesterday: "Some people use yardsticks to measure how much snow we've had. I use little children. Come here, Michael. This is Michael. Here, Michael, hold this microphone." (Five-year-old kid takes microphone, reporter picks up kid and plunks him down softly in the snow. Then pulls kid right out and examines his boots.)

"According to Michael's boots, we've had about six inches."

Cheers,
Chris

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