Here below.

Mooning over Miami...

The first fact of life drummed into the soul of a coach is that he is a member of an endangered species. Soon as he loses a few games, the mob is going to get on him. They'll turn blue booing him, stamp him a failure, and then sentence him to be shot at sunrise.

He'll be expected to show class when the firing squad arrives; that is, refuse the blindfold, turn in his credit cards, light up a filtered cigarette, and wait for the press to declare him dead.

It has happened to a lot of coaches, small names and big names, losers (almost all the time) and winners (not too often).

This year it was the turn of a living legend, Don Shula. It was gross, listening to the ungrateful dead claim that age had withered his mind and robbed him of his coaching skills. With a young turk waiting in the wings and his critics burying him in the press, you knew he was gone. The owner - a good man - had to offer up a sacrifice.

Poor Don Shula. What an ignominious way to end a magnificent career. But that's how it happens when you linger too long at the fair. The merry-go-round stops turning, lights dim, and everyone goes home and waits for the new circus to come to town.

What can one say about such public executions? Only that life is unfair. When a great coach begins losing games, he is turned out to pasture. When an incompetent owner begins losing money, he moves to another town, has a $40 million stadium built for him, pays no rent, keeps most of the concessions, and gets 50,000 people to buy licenses for season tickets.

Love, Packer style...

The Green Bay Packers have made many contributions to professional football, though most of them have been in the form of hard objects, such as frozen tundras, frozen noses, chapped lips, and Vince Lombardi.

In 1995, the Packers made an amazing metamorphosis - they became flower people. Every time a Packer scored a touchdown, he kept right on running - right through the end zone to the bleachers and then took off like a bird into the loving arms of the front-row Packer fans.

"Take me! Love me! I am yours!" was the message. And the fans responded by hugging him, patting him, kissing him on the face mask, then tossing him back on the field.

A lot of people - none Packer fans - thought it was a little hokey. We thought it was wonderful, the perfect little bonding gesture between players and fans.

The last time we saw anything like it was back in the 1950's and '60s when the New York Giants used to invite the local veterans hospitals to bring their crippled veterans to the game and park their wheel chairs on the field close to the stands - where the players dashing to the bench after scoring, would pause, shake hands, and say a few words to them. It was a nice gesture by a thoughtful management.

We don't know who invented the love-in in Green Bay, but we have a hunch the practice is going to spread - until one day our favorite owner, Jerry Jones, is going to lose his sense of direction and jump into the first row of bleacher seats in Pittsburgh... and receive the kind of welcome reserved for cereal killers.

For the wife and kids...

Ever so often, one of America's "outstanding young coaches" will announce that he is giving up the last year on his contract to take over the "program" at one of the country's major powers.

He has always wanted to coach in the Big 10 (or 12, 30, 40 or 50) and the major power admits that it has had its eye on him for a long time.

It appears to be a match made in heaven, but just as the ink is drying on the marriage certificate, the "outstanding young coach" will drop a poisoned apple into paradise. He'll suddenly realize he has made a mistake. After thinking it over the past week, he believes it would be "to the best interests of his family and career" to go back to the job he just left.

He is terribly embarrassed and he hopes "the fine people" at Major U. will release him from the contract. "The fine people" (cursing under their breaths) express great sympathy and agree, of course, to free "the fine young man" from his obligation.

What do you call such scenarios: "light comedy" or "farce?"

First, you have the spectacle of a leader of men, a teacher of preparation and judgement, embarrassing a lot of people by failing to do either.

Secondly, how can a coach claim that "after thinking it over," he realized that he was being unfair to his family and his career. Are we supposed to believe he never thought of his family and his career before he signed his contract?

That's a staggering admission that often arouses suspicion - that "the fine people" at his original school decided to steal him back by making him an offer he couldn't refuse.

Obviously, a little moral rearmament is in order. It's true that people are capable of making a hasty decision and should be given a chance to rectify it.

But it should be done openly and honestly, without resorting to the tired old "family" routine. ("I wasn't thinking of the wife and kids when I signed the contract.") As if the wife and kids had been having trouble getting along on the coach's $200,000 salary (plus perks).

Of course the greatest "family" men in sports are the professional superstars who "owe it to their family" to quit their $4.5 million a year jobs for the $6.1 million jobs they can get elsewhere.

How well we remember David Cone and Tom Glavine standing in front of a mike with deadly serious faces telling the world that "the baseball owners are out to bust the players union and take away our freedom."

This from a pair of guys who were being paid $4.5 million and $5 million for playing a little boy's game for six months - in the company of 700 other enslaved athletes who were being paid an average salary of $1 million a year. (Boy, did they have grievances!)

Pay for athletes...

As we look at the course of NCAA sport, particularly on the Division I football and basketball levels, we perceive everything getting bigger and bigger and more profitable. Just check the astronomic bucks involved in tournaments, bowl games, coaching salaries, endorsements, logoed merchandise, etc.

Every time we view this awesome financial picture, we have to wonder what kind of thoughts go through the minds of the athletes. Actually, we don't have to wonder too hard. They keep telling us about it in their press interviews: "The colleges get theirs. The coaches get theirs. What do we get?"

Woody Hayes provided the answer back when he coached at Ohio State: "Our athletes do not play for nothing. They are rewarded with a four-year education that is worth about $150,000 in future earnings - after they get their degrees."

That hit record has remained on the charts for at least three decades. Does it still play? Hardly. How do you tell an athlete what his scholarship will be worth down the road when he doesn't have anything right now?

Heck, he doesn't even get the $40 he used to receive as laundry money back in Woody's time. Nor is he allowed to hold a job during the season. Or even get a sniff of a free trip home on a holiday or a free buck of any other kind.

We're not making any of this up or passing any judgements. But we know one thing: The problem will have to be addressed some day... soon. Clean programs and educational programs are good. But they have to be reasonable, too. Can athletes be expected to live on bed, board and bread alone?