Yes, Bobby, and do look at it closely …

In February, Antonio Margarito was suspended after being accused of trying to enter the ring against Sugar Shane Mosley with illegal hand wraps. His promoter, Bob Arum, went ballistic.

"It's an absolute outrage," fumed Arum, who, of course, can’t make any money off the boxer while he’s suspended. "It's something that I never thought would happen in the United States, where somebody who is totally and completely innocent, has no knowledge what happened, and didn't do anything wrong, gets his license taken away because his trainer allegedly did something wrong. Everybody is blown away." (my italics)

Thursday, the L.A. Times reported that the confiscated hand wraps did indeed contain two primary elements of plaster of Paris; the paper's source was a California Department of Justice senior criminalist who inspected the wrappings.

Arum, so voluble after the suspension, was so quiet when asked for comment on the criminalist’s report.

"I'd have to see it," Arum said.

I really have to pay more attention

So.

Brazilian racing ace and Dancing With the Stars winner Helio Castroneves owes the U.S. Treasury more than $2.3 million in taxes, according to trial testimony from an IRS agent.

I didn’t even know Castroneves HAD been nominated for a post in the Obama administration …

Yes, get back to us — do

According to The Associated Press, UConn basketball coach Jim Calhoun told reporters that “he and the university are looking into a Yahoo Sports report claiming the school broke NCAA rules during the recruitment of former basketball player Nate Miles.”

From press reports, it doesn’t look like it will take much “looking into” to discover that UConn coaches did, indeed, violate NCAA rules in Miles’ recruitment. Exhibit A are the phone records of Calhoun and his assistants, and those babies don’t lie.

Can anyone say Kelvin Sampson?

But let the Calhoun-UConn investigation begin. I’m sure it will be quite thorough. Still, an image does come to mind of a crook exiting a house with loot over his shoulder suddenly being cornered.

“Hey, Lefty,” reporters shout, “you look like you’re breaking and entering; what gives?”

“Well,” Lefty replies, “me and my pals are looking into that incident and we’ll get back to you.”

A (not so) beautiful day in his neighborhood

How messed up is Charles Rogers? This messed up: He’d rather go to jail than to Alcoholics Anonymous.

Rogers, the former Michigan State star receiver and first-round pick of the Detroit Lions — an NFL bust — failed another court-ordered substance-abuse test and opted for jail in Novi, Mich., rather than continuing in a sobriety court program.

Earlier this month, Rogers was caught falsifying records to indicate he attended Alcoholics Anonymous meetings — one of several sobriety court conditions — when he hadn’t.

Rogers originally was arrested in September 2008 and charged with assault and battery of a female acquaintance. In December of that year he violated probation and was sentenced to attend sobriety court as an alternative to jail.

With time off for good behavior, Rogers will be released in mid-April. However, with the kind of decision-making prowess he’s recently displayed, I’m confident that at some point jail inmates once again will have Mr. Rogers back in their neighborhood.

Friday column: Legalizing sports wagering a sucker bet

We’re a nation that loves betting. Why don’t we face it, tax it and profit from it?

That’s the argument being made by a New Jersey state senator challenging the federal ban on sports betting, which is in effect in all but four states.

“As Captain Renault said to Rick, ‘I’m shocked — shocked — to find that gambling is going on in here!,” Raymond Lesniak said Monday, using a famous line from Casablanca.

“Gambling is going on here, sports gambling,” Lesniak said. “Rather than supporting thousands of jobs, economic activity and tourism, the federal ban supports offshore operators and organized crime.”

Lesniak has a point. We already have lotteries in 43 states, casinos in 34 states. Then there’s the Internet gambling and illegal wagering the senator refers to.

Other proponents note the nation’s recession and tout gambling as a panacea for busted budgets. Think how many worthy social programs could be funded, they say, with taxes collected.

They have a point.

But let’s consider the effects of gambling on society, on individuals and on sport.

I know people who gamble rather responsibly. On the other hand, statistics show 15 million Americans show some sign of gambling addiction, and gambling among young people is on the rise. Is that a good thing? If it’s not, is legalizing sports betting going to make that situation better or worse?

Another question: Is gambling inherently a good — or at least neutral — activity? I mean, if you hear that your cousin Louise has gotten into gambling in a big way, do you think, “Hey, great — that girl’s going to be OK, after all.”?

If Lesniak is such a Casablanca fan, he might recall the scene in which a desperate refugee is gambling away his last bit of money — with his and wife’s future hanging on the next spin of the roulette wheel.

Certain to lose, the couple are saved when Rick’s pity gets the better of him and he arranges for the refugee to win. Somehow, I doubt your typical sports book is going to show quite that level of compassion.

Then, let’s consider sport.

There’s a reason professional and collegiate leagues oppose overturning the ban: The fear of betting-fueled corruption — think the Black Sox scandal in baseball or the point-shaving scandals in college basketball — is quite real.

Finally, there’s the effect of betting on the culture of sport. There are negative aspects to sport and our idolization of it; I write about those often. But there are positive aspects, as well — such things as sacrifice, teamwork, sportsmanship, grace under pressure.

The more we bet on games, the more we turn sport into nothing more than a roll of the dice or a turn of the card.

And that would be a shame.

Contact Jim Gordon at gjames43@msn.com.

Oh well, we still have football

Chicks dig the long ball, the saying goes. So do MLB general managers. So do U.S. companies paying big bucks for spokesmen.

So American baseball players swing from the heels. And Japanese baseball players win the World Baseball Classic.

The Japanese won the recent WBC, in part, because they are more fundamentally sound, American Jimmy Rollins said.

“They took advantage of mistakes, didn't worry about trying to drive the ball out of the ballpark,” said the Philadelphia Phillies shortstop. “And when you put the ball in play, you can find some holes . . .

Japanese hitters are taught to keep their hands back longer (note the hands of Ichiro Suzuki, above). Which means they hit fewer home runs, but also means they strike out far less.

Added American Mark DeRosa: “You know what, if you have that approach (to hit the ball) up the middle (or) the other way, you give yourself a chance all the time and that's what they did. They got a lot of big two-out knocks. They kept rallies going.”

Maybe in Japan, chicks dig the short ball. Or maybe they just dig winning.

Just asking

A Wednesday story from The Associated Press says that Cleveland wide receiver Donte Stallworth told Miami Beach police he flashed his car’s headlights to warn a pedestrian before hitting and killing the man in last month’s accident.

There’s a great deal we don’t yet know about the accident — not the least of which is Stallworth’s blood-alcohol level. Two sources have reported it was above the legal limit, but authorities have not confirmed that.

But my first thought about his flashing his lights is a question, and it IS a question, not a statement: If he had time to flash your lights, didn’t he have time to stop the car?

http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/news/story?id=4014292

First, do no murder

Recommended reading on the non-sports front: Lawrence K. Altman’s New York Times piece on Sweden’s little problem of keeping criminals out of its medical schools.

It begins:

“A year ago, Sweden’s most prestigious medical school found itself in an international uproar after it unknowingly admitted a student who was a Nazi sympathizer and a convicted murderer, then scrambled to find a way to expel him.

“It is hard to imagine how the case could get any more bizarre. But it has.

“The 33-year-old student, Karl Helge Hampus Svensson, having been banished from the medical school of the Karolinska Institute in Stockholm on the ground that he falsified his high school records, has now been admitted to a second well-known medical school — Uppsala, Sweden’s oldest university.

“New twists in his and another case highlight the difficulties that three of the country’s six medical schools have had in admitting and dismissing students with serious criminal offenses in just the past two years. The cases resonate far beyond Sweden, raising fundamental questions about who is fit to become a doctor.”

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/24/health/24docs.html?_r=1&ref=world

Olé — for the story, at least

Recommended reading: Victoria Burnett’s New York Times story on a bullfighting brouhaha in Spain over the awarding of a prestigious fine-arts medal to Francisco Rivera Ordóñez.

Now, I don’t get bullfighting, and probably never will, but some of the issues discussed are understandable.

Ordóñez is rich, handsome, the grandson of a famous toreador and married to royalty.

If you believe his critics, he’s just not very talented — which didn’t stop the Culture Ministry from giving him the medal. He is, after all, a celebrity.

In protest, two well-regarded bullfighters have given back their medals. In a letter to the government, José Tomás and Paco Camino said the Culture Ministry had “degraded the notion of bullfighting as art.”

Who knew killing bulls was an art? Like I said, I’ve never gotten the sport. Didn’t stop me from enjoying the article, though.

http://www.nytimes.com/pages/sports/other/index.html

Serious trouble for Stallworth?

Up and about and driving at 7 a.m.? Sure.

Heading to the beach at 7 a.m.? Why not?

Drunk at 7 a.m.? Say what?

A source is telling The Miami Herald that Donte Stallworth had a blood-alcohol level of .12 last weekend when he struck and killed struck pedestrian Mario Reyes, a 59-year-old construction worker who had just gotten of his late shift. The legal limit is .08.

The Cleveland wide receiver has showed brains two ways:

1) by cooperating with police at the accident scene

2) by staying mum (other than expressing grief over Reyes' death), citing the ongoing police investigation as a reason.

If only he had demonstrated some smarts before climbing into his Bentley drunk.

This is assuming The Herald’s source is correct — which, after reading between the lines, I do.

"We have not released anything regarding the blood work," a Miami Beach police spokeswoman told The Herald. "We're not confirming anything."

But The Herald is not the only outlet reporting the test results. So is station WSVN-TV.

Then there’s a curious comment from Miami Beach detective Juan Sanchez, who told the Cleveland Plain Dealer that the cops, indeed, were not confirming the information but added, "We will not be releasing those results until we make an arrest."

A work ethic that really works

Recommended reading: Dave Caldwell's New York Times piece on New Jersey's Martin Brodeur, now the winningest goalie in NHL history.

The story, written just before Brodeur broke Patrick Roy's record, details the meticulous way Brodeur goes about his business — and the way he continually strives to improve his performance despite his 15 years in the league.

Brodeur told Caldwell he has a hybrid style that is still evolving, with techniques picked up from other goalies.

"Anything I think will be good for my game, I’ll steal from them," Brodeur said. "It's fair game."


http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/17/sports/hockey/17brodeur.html?ref=hockey

Friday column: Sometimes tweets not all that sweet

Maybe I'm a Luddite, but my sympathies are with Milwaukee coach Scott Skiles in his Twitter tilt tug-of-war with Charlie Villanueva.

The 6-11 third-year forward tweeted (for the technologically challenged among us, that’s posting a note to his Twitter feed on the Internet) at halftime of a recent game between the Bucks and the Boston Celtics.

The post, received by some 1,600 or so who subscribe to Villanueva's feed, was short and inoffensive, but Skiles was upset at what the tweeting suggested."
"You know, (we) don’t want to blow it out of proportion," Skiles said. “But anything that gives the impression that we’re not serious and focused at all times is not the correct way we want to go about our business."

Skiles didn’t fine the third-year player but made it clear he thinks refraining from tweeting in the middle of a game was a "no-brainer."

But the coach, old school as he is, might also think it a no-brainer for jury members to refrain from doing cell-phone Internet investigations in the middle of a trial — especially when they've been admonished not to.

And apparently he would be wrong.

A Tuesday New York Times story indicates playing Sherlock Holmes is all the rage among jurors, leading to mistrials and an enormous waste of time and money.

John Schwartz's Times story begins with a federal drug-trial juror admitting to the judge he had secretly been doing research on the case over the Internet, "directly violating the judge's instructions and centuries of legal rules."

The story continues: "But when the judge questioned the rest of the jury, he got an even bigger shock. Eight other jurors had been doing the same thing."

A hallmark of the U.S. justice system is the principle that jurors are to decide a case only on the evidence a judge rules admissible. Now they're basing judgment on whatever they can dig up on their BlackBerrys during lunch. Schwartz writes that jurors doing Google searches or posting trial information — another legal no-no — "is wreaking havoc on trials around the country."

Which is costly, but not lethal. For lethal, you have to go to Chatsworth, Calif., where last year a Metrolink engineer sailed through a red light and hit an oncoming train, killing 24 and injuring 130. The engineer, who was among those killed, was text-messaging close to the time of the crash.

Now, it's a long way from Villanueva's halftime tweeting to a lethal accident. On the other hand, Maryland just moved to ban text-messaging while operating a vehicle, which means that that kind of distracted driving probably is being done everywhere.

So my plea to the technocrats out there — especially those on the road — is the same as Skiles' to Villanueva: Hey, pay attention.

Contact Jim Gordon at gjames43@msn.com.

That's showing him, Pierre

So.

The French surprised Lance Armstrong with a test, and no, it wasn’t “who’s buried in Napoleon’s Tomb?”

It was a doping test — just a little hello from the French to the American they love to hate, or at least love to suspect.

Armstrong was approached for a hair sample Tuesday in Beaulieu-sur-Mer, where he is training, and the French weren’t exactly gentle about it. According to reports, an “anti-doping inspector armed with a pair of scissors this week took six clumps of the former Tour de France champion's hair that now will be tested for signs of drug use. Armstrong says his hair was so ‘butchered’ by the test that he had to get a buzz-cut to hide the mess.”

Boasted Pierre Bordry, chief of the French anti-doping agency, "He needs to know that he is like everyone else. To have done this test … was a good way to make him realize that he is like everyone else."

I hate to break it to you, Pierre, but he isn’t like everyone else. Everyone else hasn’t won the Tour de France seven straight times. Let's see ... that’s your race, isn’t it, Pierre?

The newest ‘ugly American’

That would be Chipper Jones, for kvetching about having to exist in Toronto — of all places — to play in the World Baseball Classic.

Complaining about having too many days off, the Atlanta third baseman said, “We stayed in Toronto for a week and played three games. I don’t know if you ever stayed in Toronto, but it’s not exactly Las Vegas. To say that we were plucking our eyebrows out one at a time would be an understatement.”

Here’s an idea, Chipper: Don’t like the venue? Don’t like the way the WBC schedule is arranged? Then … DON’T ... FREAKIN' … PLAY.

As you're 0-10 with six strikeouts in the WBC, I think the USA can survive your absence.

Quote marks all around

Ten teams, 61 athletes. Those are the numbers involved in Florida State’s academic fraud.

So is 14 — that’s the number of wins Bobby Bowden’s football squad, the most notable of the teams affected, might have to surrender for using ineligible players.

So is the number 3. It stands for the learning specialist, the academic adviser and the tutor who not only helped the “student-athletes” cheat, but took tests and wrote papers for them. Wait — if I’m going to put quotes around “student-athletes,” I also should around “learning specialist,” “academic adviser” and “tutor.”

I sure the three … whatever they are … rationalized they were doing something good for the school and the kids — got to keep them on the field and on the court and in the pool, after all. The reputation of the university is at stake.

Now Bowden (that's him above), one behind Penn State’s Joe Paterno on the all-time college football winning list, might see his last chance to pass Paterno go down the drain.

Which I’m sure will bum out a legion of Seminole football fanatics — but doesn’t bother me one bit.

A predicament difficult to conceive of

I hope Travis Henry isn’t counting on a boatload of sympathy.

Nine kids. Nine different mothers. Nine demands for child support.

“They’ve got my blood; I’ve got to deal with it,” the former NFL running back told The New York Times — from Denver where, until recently, “he was under house arrest until recently for the drug matter.”

Now 30, Henry conceived his first child while he was a high-schooler. “I’m like, ‘Whoa, I’m going to be a dad,’ ” Henry recalled.

Guess what, Travis: Being the biological father doesn’t make you a dad though, unfortunately for you, it does make you financially liable.

Not surprisingly, Henry blames the mothers of his children. Seems as though they convinced Henry protection wasn’t necessary — and no, I’m not talking about pass blocking.

“My counselor asks me, ‘How can you do the same thing over and over?’ ” he told The Times.

“Knock on wood, or something, I’m blessed not to have AIDS. That never crossed my mind.”

I'm guessing there are many, many things that never cross your mind.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/12/sports/football/12henry.html?_r=1&ref=football

Friday column: Reality sometimes reassures

A recent issue of The New Yorker looked at the economic rise and collapse of Iceland — which soared on much of the same financial maneuvering and hubris that led to our own recession, then crashed and burned when credit tightened worldwide.

One Icelander compared the nation’s heady days to the “dream season” on the TV show Dallas, adding, “People were thinking, ‘Wow, we’re one of the richest countries in the world.’ Then they woke up.”

The waking up has been hard on the tiny country but is not without a plus side. As one writer puts it: “The people who couldn’t understand how money could be created this way are relieved that it wasn’t reality. It was true what your grandmother said: Don’t owe too much, don’t take risks, use things well.”

In the sports world, too, verities sometimes prove eternal.

Take the New York Yankees and Alex Rodriguez.

In December 2007, the Steinbrenners — known for unapologetically trying to corner the market on talent — decided it prudent to throw $275 million at A-Rod.

This even though the Yankees had won zero World Series since Rodriguez had moved to the Big Apple, and even though he would be 42 when his nine-year contract ended.

Since that time, Rodriguez has been outed as a steroid user and a liar — just the sort of bloke you want as the face of your franchise for most of a decade. Now an injury has made his future even more uncertain.

Verity confirmed: You can’t just go out and buy a title.

Take the Dallas Cowboys and Terrell Owens.

In March 2006, Jerry Jones decided that Owens’ talent and star power were more important than the wide receiver’s track record as a clubhouse cancer.

Since that time, there have been plenty of touchdowns, but also plenty of backbiting — and not a single playoff win. So now, Owens has been cut loose, free to ply his trade — and his mouth — in Buffalo.

Verity confirmed: Character matters.

Take Manny Ramirez and Scott Boras.

In the summer of 2008, Ramirez began acting out more than usual — including benching himself with phantom injuries — in order to get out of the last two years of his Boston contract. Word is, his agent Boras promised he’d get him A-Rod money in a bidding war.

Well, Ramirez got out of his Boston deal. But this winter, the Dodgers were the only team interested in him, and they signed the outfielder for roughly what he would have made in Boston.

Verity confirmed: Bad behavior — especially quitting on teammates — can be bad for business.

If none of these individuals or teams have crashed and burned like Iceland — or the Dow Jones industrial average — they’ve still experienced downturns, what Wall Street types call corrections, and in today’s moral climate all corrections are welcome.

Contact Jim Gordon at gjames43@msn.com.

Desperate times call for ...

From the San Francisco 49ers (a one-time glamour franchise) to the Philadelphia Eagles (a consistent contender) to the Dallas Cowboys (the glamour franchise) to … the Buffalo Bills?

Terrell Owens, the noxious wide receiver, and Drew Rosenhaus, the noxious agent, can spin this all they want, but if the Bills were Owens’ first choice, his choices were not exactly, well … primo.

The Bills — rather like the Cowboys — fell apart the tail end of 2008, losing eight of their last 10 games and finishing 7-9.

In Tim Graham’s ESPN blog, Scouts Inc. analyst Matt Williamson puts it succinctly and correctly: “It’s a desperate team and a desperate player.”

As for T.O.'s news conference smiles, let's just say I've seen more sincere "glad to be here' grins. At 35, with diminished skills and undiminished baggage, T.O. is glad to be anywhere.

Big-house blogging

Recommended reading: Bill Livingston’s piece in the Cleveland Plain Dealer on the prison blogging of former Ohio State star running back Maurice Clarett.

Writes Livingston:

“News that Clarett, the running back who was the best player on the 2002 national champions, is dictating blogs from jail in Toledo to family members brings with it the caveat that he was always good at conning people.”

In other words, while saying the right things from stir is good, talk remains cheap. Let’s see what Clarett — who threw away several chances before getting sent up the river for armed-robbery — does when it gets outside the walls.

According to Livingston, Clarett “had a pervasive streak of nihilism in him.” Is that something prison is likely to change?

http://www.cleveland.com/sports/plaindealer/bill_livingston/index.ssf?/base/sports/1236418458306130.xml&coll=2

Thanks for nothing, Dad

A New York Times blog by Thayer Evans quoted Texas Tech basketball coach Pat Knight on differences in recruiting philosophy he has with his father, Bobby, the former Red Raiders and Indiana Hoosiers coach.

Knight the Younger compared the differences to contrasting opinions men have about women.

“Everybody has a different taste who they’re attracted to,” Knight said. “It has to be the same way for players. There’s not like one attribute that I like more than my dad likes, but it is going to be different because I’m a different person. If two girls were walking down the street, my dad would probably pick a different one than I would.”

And if I were a college athletic director on the prowl for a new coach and saw two of them walking down the street — one of them being Pat Knight — I’d probably pick one who didn’t get his current job simply by riding his famous father’s coattails.

Every father wants to help his son, but by making sure Pat would succeed him as Tech head coach, Bobby made life harder — not easier — for his son. And that still would be true even if Tech's conference record today wasn't 3-13.

Hey, Donny: Get a mirror

Now, it’s sometimes said Manny Ramirez lives in his own world (more on him below). Well, another L.A. sporting figure — Donald Sterling — must live in his own universe. And it ain’t a pretty place.

According to a blog item by Cleveland Plain Dealer reporter Brandon Wright, after a recent game the Clippers owner went after his team in a “profanity-laced tirade” inside the club locker room, threatening to trade the entire roster.

As if another NBA team would want anyone on that roster.

Earth to wherever Sterling’s psyche and ego actually reside: You’re the guy who put this team together. Or at the very least, you’re the guy who hired the guys who put this team together.

In a particularly classy touch, Sterling allegedly ripped players by name, calling Al Thornton the most selfish basketball player he had ever seen, then telling coach Mike Dunleavy to “shut up” when Thornton asked the coach how he was playing.

Sterling has owned the Clips for 28 years, and for nearly that entire time, they’ve been the joke of the league. The only common denominator those 28 years is who? That's right: Donald T. Sterling.

Say it ain't so, Jerry — say it ain't so …

In 2006, when Jerry Jones brought wide receiver Terrell Owens to Dallas, no one was happier than me.

I once again had reason to root against the Cowboys, an often entertaining pastime. And T.O., with his narcissistic whining, made rooting against “America’s Team” ever so worthwhile. Last year’s signing of the thuggish Pacman Jones was like adding whipped cream and cherries to an already mouthwatering sundae.

Last season’s implosion — with Pacman’s suspension and Owens’ verbal undermining of certain Cowboys teammates — was especially delicious.

But early in this off-season, Jerry Jones cut Pacman. And now he’s released Owens.

I feel bereft. Who am I to root against now? Tony Romo — who stops and changes tires for strangers? I think not. And if the Cowboys owner is wising up about the importance of character and chemistry and essentially admitting his mistakes, what joy can I even get rooting against him?

Life is so unfair.

On the schadenfreude front

Thank God I still have the Dodgers and Manny Ramirez to root against.

At least I can enjoy the discomfiture of Manny and his agent, Scott Boras, who engineered Ramirez’s grisly departure from Boston — a departure that trashed the outfielder’s already-questionable reputation and resulted in precious little extra green for the me-first slugger.

Boras reportedly was seeking A-Rod money for Manny — that’s $27.5 mil a year for five or six years. Instead, after four months of posturing — what Boras does best — Manny signed with L.A. for $45 million for two years, much of the money deferred. By playing out his contract in Boston, he would have earned $40 million over two years.

After paying Boras’ commission, and considering the deferred money, there’s not much to choose between the old Red Sox deal and the new Dodgers deal. All that angst and ugliness for nothing.

Despite Ramirez’s checkered history, in La-La Land Manny is being hailed as a savior.

Wait till his first pout.

Friday column: Despite advice, I forge ahead

“Literary fraud is a terrible thing,” agreed Clifford Irving, sitting on my sofa, sipping a caipirinha through a mauve opaline straw. “That’s why when one contemplates it, one must think big. This is so … small.”

My longtime pal Cliff — that him above in younger days — and I were talking about Matt McCarthy’s Odd Man Out, a book about his one season as a minor-league pitcher in Provo, Utah. It’s a memoir.

Make that “memoir.”

The New York Times says McCarthy “writes about playing with racist, steroids-taking teammates, pitching for a profane, unbalanced manager and observing obscene behavior and speech that in some ways reinforce the popular image of wild professional ballplayers.”

But, reports The Times, many of the people McCarthy writes about say the incidents never happened. In some instances, McCarthy quotes teammates spouting incorrect facts — about their own lives. Better yet, McCarthy “recalls” events involving players who either hadn’t yet reported to the team or were long gone.

Oh, and he even gets obvious details about games wrong.

“Aren’t box scores available?” Cliff asked, exasperated. “You can’t believe the amount of research I did when I concocted the Howard Hughes ‘autobiography.’ ”

“McCarthy says he took detailed notes,” I said.

“But he wouldn’t show them to The Times reporters,” rejoined James Frey, entering the room carrying a plate of exquisite, Vietnamese squeasel, my favorite since my days traveling the globe with Anthony Bourdain.

“You’re a fine one to talk,” Cliff said to James. “Didn’t you know jail records existed when you wrote A Million Little Pieces?

“Those made-up months in jail were absolutely necessary to the authenticity of my story!” James shrieked, ready to dump the tray on Cliff’s head.

Konrad Kujau, who all of us had thought asleep, stood up suddenly. “Heren, heren,” the forger of The Hitler Diaries said gently, “there is no cause for fighting.”

The old man’s quick action saved Cliff’s pate and, more important, the squeasel.

Konrad continued:“You must admit that James here fought a fine literary retreat when exposed. What was it you told the press? ‘I’ve never denied I’ve altered small details?’ Brilliant, brilliant.”

“You always take his side,” Cliff sniffed.

Konrad ignored Cliff — which he always hates — then continued, “But what did this McCarthy say when pressed by The Times? He said, ‘This was my experience.’

“We can all agree that was weak, very weak.”

And so we did. The squeasel was passed, the caipirinha was drunk, and the state of literary fraud was lamented.

Finally, they turned to me. “And what is this that you’ve written?” Konrad asked. “Let us see.”

After a quick perusal, they sighed — not quite in unison — then Clifford pronounced judgment. “Stick to straight writing, my friend. I’m afraid you haven’t the flair for ‘memoir.’ ”

Contact Jim Gordon at gjames43@msn.com.