BOSTON.  Manny Ramirez, the discontented Red Sox outfielder who has been trying to get out of Boston almost as long as he's been there, today threw a roadblock in front of club management as they tried to pave his way out of town.

Ramirez is a "10/5" veteran, meaning he's been in the majors for ten years, five with the Sox.  As a result he has the right to veto any trade, and players with this leverage often exact additional consideration from clubs that seek to acquire them. 

What does Manny want?  A promise that his new teammates will carry him to first base on a litter, a frame with a couch historically used to transport kings and other potentates such as former Uganadan President-for-Life Idi Amin.

Sox fans have had a love/hate relationship with Ramirez during his tenure in Boston, cheering him when he blasts home runs over Fenway Park's "Green Monster," but booing him when he refuses to run out ground balls.  "Manny's a hitter, not a track star," said a spokesman for the Ramirez family's interior decorator's assistant's spokesman.

Major league rules prohibit the use of golf carts except when transporting relief pitchers to the mound from the bullpen, so Manny's agent, Greg Genske, came up with the idea of a litter.  "Manny has carried every team he's ever been on--it's time his teammates returned the favor," the agent said in a letter sent to the Mets, the Angels and the Rangers, three teams thinking of dealing for his client.

For a slugger like Ramirez, the strength of the batter who comes after him in the lineup has always been an important consideration.  With Ramirez in the on-deck circle, for example, opposing hurlers have had to pitch to designated hitter David Ortiz, the Sox' number three hitter, allowing the DH to put up MVP-worthy numbers.

Now, the next four batters on the lineup card behind Ramirez will become significant.  "Manny doesn't want a bunch of Punch-and-Judy hitters in the 5-6-7 spots," Genske said.  "He wants a comfortable ride, with lots of muscle to absorb the shock of rounding first, a five-year power train warranty, and air conditioning if he's going to Texas."

Copyright 2005, Con Chapman

The NCAA has taken a bold first step to tackle the biggest problem in college sports.

Mascots.

As Jack Paar used to say, I kid you not.

Academic scandals, steroids, hookers for high school recruits--those issues can wait.  The guys and gals who patrol the sidelines in funny outfits--that's what corrupting America's impressionable youth.

The NCAA's edict bars ethnic nicknames or mascots deemed "hostile or abusive" from NCAA tournaments after this year.  So beginning in 2006, the Fighting Irish of Notre Dame will be ineligible for March Madness, right?

Not quite.  While teams with ethnic mascots are common at the collegiate level--opponents tremble when the Bethany College Swedes take the field--the abusive nature of a team's totem depends on the views of self-appointed group spokesmen.

The NCAA's action targets only images of Native Americans and was prompted by organizations such as the National Coalition on Racism in Sports and Media, whose claim to speak on behalf of tribal groups is dubious.  A Sports Illustrated poll found that 83% of Native Americans had no objection to the San Diego State Aztecs and similar nicknames.  In Florida, officials of the Seminole tribe say they will support Florida State in a legal challenge to the new rule.

The groups that pushed for the ban on tournament appearances wanted the NCAA to go further and bar member schools from using ethnic names at all.  In a remarkable display of judicial restraint, the NCAA decided it lacked the power to toss the Edinboro University Fighting Scots into the dustbin of history.

Lest you think your alma mater's mascot is safe, however, remember that the source of today's laughter often becomes tomorrow's reality.   People used to joke that when the trial lawyers were through with the tobacco companies they would turn to fast food as their next source of regular income.

Ha-ha.  Eighteen states have now enacted so-called "cheeseburger laws" after suits were filed against restaurant chains alleging that they caused a particular glutton's health problems.

So if ethnic nicknames are so offensive, why is there no chorus of grumbling Greeks at the gates when the USC Trojans play, and no protests by Dutch Master look-alikes at New York Knickerbocker games?  The answer is that these groups long ago subordinated their ethnic identities to their status as Americans.  They melted into the multicultural pot that is one of the sources of our strength, rather than remain in a state of perpetual umbrage to fuel their cash flow.   

What's in a name, asked Juliet, since a rose by any other would smell as sweet.  She was right, and idealistic attempts to change the world by fiddling with the names of sports teams have failed in the past. 

In 1997 the Washington Bullets changed their name to the Washington Wizards out of concern that their ballistic monicker encouraged violence.  Eight years later, Washington remains the murder capital of America, with 45.8 fatalities per 100,000 residents.  And the team, unlike a rose, still stinks.

Copyright 2005, Con Chapman

WAYLAND, MASS.   Desperate to attract the younger viewers that are essential to landing a television contract, the United States Curling Association today announced it would recognize "Extreme Curling" as a bona fide variant of the game that most Americans watch only once every four years during the Winter Olympics.

"We need the critical 15-25 year-old slacker dude demographic if we're ever going to get on ESPN during the waking hours," noted USCA Commissioner Eldridge "Chub" Berry.  "Otherwise we'll be stuck forever in infomercial time slots where we're up against Sauna Belt and the Kitchen Magician."

Curling, a form of Arctic bocce, was invented in Scotland but is today dominated by Canadians.  Teams consist of four players: a "lead," a "second," a "third" or "vice-skip" and the "skip."  The game is relatively safe; most injuries involve scratches to the head that participants suffer when they bump into each other's quotation marks.

In normal curling, players push a 42-pound granite stone down an ice surface towards the "house," a circle with a diameter of 12 feet.  Two dorky sweepers use brooms to control the stone's momentum and direction.  The team that succeeds in placing its stone closest to the center of the "house" wins.

In Extreme Curling, players push the stone down a hill, hoping to hit real houses.  "It's much more exciting because it involves the possible loss of innocent lives," said TV sports industry analyst Monty Balsbaugh.  "It's like comparing NASCAR to heel-and-toe race walking."

Curling enthusiasts hope to get the extreme version of the game up and running in time to be designated a demonstration sport at the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver.  Berry says the USCA has budgeted $100,000 to spend over the next four years on public relations, youth instructional leagues and International Olympic Committee bribes.

 Copyright 2005, Con Chapman