The rich ARE different

The following quote is the divorce proceedings between Frank McCourt and Jamie McCourt, one of whom — and possibly both — own the Los Angeles Dodgers. The soon-to-be-officially-ex-couple own several multi-million dollar abodes, most of which were put in Jamie’s name, allowing Frank’s defense to claim he really wasn’t involved in his wife’s domecile-buying spree.

Jamie’s lawyers would have none of that.

"It's a road they walked down hand in hand," Mike Kump said of the house collecting. "The idea that Frank was just going along with this to appease his wife is not credible. He was involved in picking out the houses … They were just like any other husband and wife — except with a few more houses."

Oh.

I don't know ... human nature?

Why is it that “adults” in college athletics so often talk the importance of kids — their players — being accountable for bad behavior, yet so rarely hold themselves to that standard?

Witness Kansas Athletic Director Lew Perkins, who Tuesday suddenly retired 12 months early. Why?

Well, one might infer it has to do with a year of controversy and embarrassment involving a ticket scam allegedly run by members of his staff. Five of his full-time employees and one part-time consultant have been implicated.

One could infer that, and one certainly would like to ask Perkins about it. Unfortunately — but not surprisingly — Perkins didn’t make himself available to reporters.

Neither did university chancellor Bernadette Gray-Little. Keep that in mind the next time someone at KU talks about athlete “accountability.”

Friday column: No place you want to be

Manny Pacquiao would seem to have gotten into Floyd Mayweather Jr.’s head.

And that’s a disturbing place to be.

Witness Mayweather’s recent YouTube posting, where Mayweather went on a racist, homophobic rant against the Filipino, whom he continues to find reasons to avoid in the ring.

In 10 minutes of pure vitriol, Mayweather called Pacquiao a “whore,” a “little yellow chump,” and a “midget” several times. He also used a denigrating word for gays and said he would force Pacquiao to “make some sushi rolls and cook some rice” and “we’re going to cook him with some cats and dogs.”

Pacquiao’s response? It was what one would expect from an adult, and helps further delineate the difference between the two men.

“I just heard about that, but I didn’t see the video,” Pacquiao said. “But it’s an uneducated message.”

Uneducated is the last thing Pacquiao would come across as, even though his family’s poverty forced him to drop out of high school. In 2007, a dozen years after he began making money as a professional fighter, Pacquiao took and passed a high school equivalency exam.

Since then, he’s taken business courses at Notre Dame of Dadiangas University and a governance class at the Development Academy of the Philippines — Graduate School of Public and Development Management.

The latter is preparation for his career as a lawmaker — Pacquiao was elected to Congress in May, taking on and defeating a wealthy, machine politician whose family had controlled the district for three decades.

There’s talk that Pacquiao one day could be president of his country.

Somehow, I don’t see that happening for Mayweather.

If Pacquiao is about service, at least in part, Mayweather is all about money — that’s his nickname — and about ego. Mayweather brags about the money he makes; Pacquiao, meanwhile, often gives money away.

Both could make a lot more money — to do with whatever they chose — if they fought, a bout that could earn each $40 million or more. But in fighting the powerful Pacquiao, Mayweather would be risking his undefeated record and the basis for his claim to be the best fighter ever.

Doubt about his ability to prevail is the only reasonable explanation why Mayweather has avoided going toe-to-toe with Pacquiao, rated by Ring magazine the best pound-for-pound boxer in the world.

In a pathetic “apology” posted after his rant, Mayweather said, “Forgive me for saying what I said. I was just having fun. I didn’t really mean it. Nothing in a bad way. So let’s just stay on this roller-coaster ride and keep riding, baby. It’s all love.”

It’s love, all right — self-love. And insecurity. And fear.

I don’t know who would win if the two ever met, but I suspect I know who Mayweather thinks would win.

(Hint: It’s not Mayweather.)

Contact Jim Gordon at gjames43@msn.com.

Friday column: Talk about your easy prediction

Last week, I wrote about 14 Little Leaguers who — in just a few days together — discovered the importance of team. Today, I write about a pro athlete with no sense of team.

No, that might be unfair; I'm sure he, his agent and his accountant are very close.

Yes, I'm talking about Manny.

Ramirez's breakup with the Dodgers came as a surprise to no one, including some New Mexican columnist who in 2008 — after Ramirez quit on his previous club and forced the trade to L.A. — wrote the following:

"On his way out of Boston, Ramirez said the Red Sox didn't deserve him. He was dead wrong. The Red Sox covered and made excuses for their petulant hitting star for years, and when he turned on them, they deserved him, all right.

"And when it turns ugly in L.A., his new enablers, the Dodgers, will have richly deserved it as well."

And richly they did.

The Dodgers welcomed Ramirez, smiled at his dreadlocks, laughed at his antics, made excuses for his behavior in Beantown, and rode his umm ... let's call it unnatural ... hitting as far as they could.

The Dodgers named part of the left-field stands "Mannywood" and held special promotions to take advantage of the aging slugger's popularity — popularity so great the Dodgers signed him to a two-year, $45 million deal in the off-season.

Such largess appeared justified when L.A. started the 2009 season like a rocket, jumping off to a 61/2-game lead. Manny was never more beloved. Then came May and Ramirez's 50-game suspension by Major League Baseball — reportedly for testing positive for artificial testosterone and for using a banned fertility drug that steroid cheats use to restart their natural testosterone production.

Without their star hitter, the Dodgers fizzled.

"Somebody punched a hole in the balloon," said Joe Torre, Dodgers manager and chief excuse-maker.

By the time Ramirez returned, the Dodgers were not the same, and neither was Manny.

No, let me rephrase that. He was still the same me-first greedhead. He just wasn't the same hitter, and this injury-plagued season has been the least productive of his career. Not only was he no longer juicing, now with the Dodgers' money in his pocket, he was no longer even pretending to care.

In his final appearance as a Red Sox, he didn't bother to take his bat off his shoulders. In his final appearance in Dodger blue, he couldn't be bothered to even look at three pitches, instead getting tossed out of the game for arguing with the ump after a single delivery.

(The laughter you hear is coming from Boston.)

The excuse making already has started with the White Sox, who took Ramirez off the Dodgers' hands in hopes he can do for them what he did for L.A. in 2008. If they do more than rent his bat for the rest of the season — actually sign him for next year — they, too, will richly deserve whatever Me-Manny-Me serves up.

Contact Jim Gordon at gjames43@msn.com.

Friday column: Sometimes team tops dream

Saturday in South Williamsport, Pa., the U.S. champion of the Little League World Series will be determined. Sunday will see the winning American team take on the top international team.

The games will be televised around the world. Millions will be watching. Former big league players will be analyzing. For the 11- and 12-year-olds fortunate enough to be on the field, it is a very big thing, indeed. An experience of a lifetime? Maybe not, but close.

Some 1,800 miles away in Santa Fe, a handful of 11- and 12-year-olds will watch and wonder, "What if?"

Those are 14 Little League players from the Santa Fe American and Santa Fe Metro, which in July combined players — properly, it was thought — to begin a journey the kids hoped would end in Williamsport.

According to manager John Gibbs, district officials, considering Santa Fe National, Santa Fe American and Santa Fe Metro to be different divisions of the same league, decided "we could combine (forces) to make one All-Star team."

"As we thought about it, we thought why not?" said Gibbs, who guided LOE Alarm during the Santa Fe American regular season. "Seemed a good thing for a couple of reasons. We'd be very competitive, and we'd get to know these other people. We'd get a chance to play with them rather than against them."

While National, Gibbs said, declined to participate, nine players from American and five from Metro came together — and not just physically. As they practiced for the upcoming district tournament under the hot July sun, they bonded.

"It was a fun clinic," Gibbs said, "everyone getting better and better."

Then four days before the district tournament, officials broke the bad news: Administrators in Williamsport decreed the joining of Santa Fe American and Metro wouldn't be allowed.

What now?

The obvious option, Gibbs said, was to pick up more players from Santa Fe American. "We'd still have a great team," Gibbs said, "a powerful team." But that would leave the players from Metro out in the cold.

Enter assistant coach Tim Kirkpatrick, who had been talking with S.F. American player Evan Ruesch, whose first question was, "What's going to happen with the kids from Metro?"

"They're done," Gibbs told him. "They can't put a team together."

" 'These guys have worked so hard,' "
Gibbs recalls Evan saying; " 'we've become friends with them.' "

So another option was presented to Evan and eventually to the rest of the players: Stay together as a team and play two games in the double-elimination tournament — knowing that win or lose on the field, the team would officially forfeit the contests, and any chance of advancing.

Evan went for it; the Metro players went for it; the American players went for it.

Two games later — games won on the field 11-2 and 10-2, Gibbs remembers — the team was done. But it was still a team.

The players, all of whom voted to stay together: Will Gibbs, Evan Ruesch, Tristan Gress, Gabe Valdez, Ben Miller, Angelo Lopez, Francisco Martinez, Alex Mundt, Chris Polhamus, Hiram Lopez, Santiago Gonzales, Joaquin Rivera, Isaac Hurtado and Michael Salazar.

Contact Jim Gordon at gjames43@msn.com.