Friday column: Nothing like a visual to spur the conscience

Why do people lie?

Let’s ask Bruce Pearl.

“There’s no reasonable excuse,” the University of Tennessee men’s basketball coach said. “When you get asked a question, you panic.”

Pearl knows whereof he speaks as he recently admitted to … uh … misleading — that’s the word Pearl used — NCAA investigators probing infractions in Pearl’s program.

So far, the results of the lie and other ethical boo-boos are an eight-game suspension for Pearl and a $1.5 million pay cut over five years. Pearl also won’t be allowed to recruit off campus for a year. Those penalties were imposed by the Southeastern Conference and the university, respectively. The NCAA is yet to be heard from, but even the penalties thus far imposed could have been worse.

If he had stuck with his lie, Pearl could have lost his job.

To me, that help explains Pearl’s decision to ’fess up to his athletic director.

Pearl’s lie apparently involved a recruit being in his home in violation of NCAA rules. Reportedly, there was a photo of the visit. It doesn’t take a Mensa-caliber intellect to see a continued denial of the truth in this situation was foolhardy.

An image — or images — also played a role in another confession — that of Nebraska defensive coordinator Carl Pelini, who was accused of pushing a video camera held by a reporter for a Texas A&M fan website following the Cornhuskers’ Saturday loss to the Aggies.

Carl Pelini’s first response?

The incident never happened.

The response of his brother, head coach Bo Pelini? Well, it happened, but it was accidental. You see, Carl was trying to help a Nebraska player off the field and the photographer got in the way.

Unfortunately for the Pelinis, video to the contrary surfaced, leading to Carl’s Tuesday mea culpa.

“It was a very emotional situation and the mob scene on the field after the game amplified that,” he said. “Having been involved in a similar situation in 2003 at Missouri, and in witnessing the situation on the field, I made a poor decision in trying to prevent a reporter from recording the scene.”

Ah, yes, the dreaded “poor decision.”

And the false story peddled by his brother? Was that another “poor decision”?

“Unfortunately, Bo did not have all the facts prior to (Monday’s) press conference and wasn’t fully prepared for the question,” Carl Pelini said.

I hate when that happens.

Why do people lie? Often, I guess, because they know they’ve done something wrong and don’t want to own up to it. Or perhaps a close relative has done something wrong, and they don’t want them to have to own up to it.

Why do people who first lie later tell the truth? That’s often a bit easier to figure out.

Two words.

Visual evidence.

Contact Jim Gordon at gjames43@msn.com.

Might want to be careful, Rev.

So.

Besides NCAA and state officials probing the auction ... I mean recruitment ... of Auburn quarterback Cam Newton, now federal officials are involved.

Note to the Rev. Cecil Newton, Cam's dad, who is alleged to have demanded lots and lots of cash for his son's services: The feds don't like to be lied to. Don't believe me? Ask, oh ... Marion Jones or Martha Stewart ... or any number of folks who've made that mistake.

Don't ... lie ... to ... the ... feds.

Friday column: Sometimes, it’s good to be surprised

The sports landscape often showcases individuals who accept praise more quickly than blame, are more interested in themselves than in others, are more interested in taking than in giving.
Often — but not always.
Oct. 27, a Notre Dame student videographer died when a high wind toppled the hydraulic lift from which he was recording football practice.
Eight days later, the Rev. John Jenkins, Notre Dame’s president, sent an e-mail to students, faculty, staff and alumni stating what most everyone understood but what few expected to hear from an institution with lawyers on the payroll.
“Declan Sullivan was entrusted to our care, and we failed to keep him safe. We at Notre Dame and ultimately I as president are responsible. Words cannot express our sorrow to the Sullivan family and to all involved.”
Jenkins didn’t blame Sullivan for somehow improperly using the lift. He didn’t blame the maker of the device. He didn’t even blame God. He did what one would hope a university president would do — stood up and told the truth.

* * *

Truth is, athletes have been known to spend their retirement living in the past rather than moving on and doing something significant with their lives.
Not Roberto Baggio.
Baggio, one of the finest soccer players ever, works to raise awareness of world hunger and serves as a goodwill ambassador for the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations.
That’s just for starters.
As a recent New York Times article pointed out, Baggio “helps to fund hospitals. He committed to raise money in the aftermath of the Haiti earthquake. He involved himself in the fight against bird flu. He joined the pro-democracy movement for Daw Aung San Suu Kyi in Myanmar.”
Baggio won plenty of honors as a player, but last Sunday was given something more meaningful than a sporting trophy. In Hiroshima, Baggio received the Peace Summit Award given yearly by the world’s Nobel Peace Prize laureates.

* * *

I can’t imagine a World Peace Award being given to Ron Artest, but the thing about the aggressive Laker swingman is that with him, you never really know what to expect.
For years, we did know. We expected bad behavior.
Artest’s image began to change when, following the Lakers’ victory over Boston, he became the first athlete to begin his post-championship comments by thanking his psychologist. And no, it wasn’t a joke.
Then he appeared at an L.A.-area intermediate school to talk to kids about the importance of seeking help for emotional problems. Now, he’s taking what some athletes regard as their prized possession — a championship ring — and auctioning it off to raise money for, yes, mental health charities.
The idea came to him suddenly. Said Artest: “It was … simple. It was perfect. It’s something that can help others.”
Artest has gone from pariah to role model, of a sort. And I can’t believe I just wrote that.

Contact Jim Gordon at gjames43@msn.com.