How Sports Mirror Us.

PRO sports long has been burdened by needing to somehow do better than the rest of society in the virtue and honor departments. As salaries escalated to outrageous levels through the '80s and '90s, so did the pressure to remain pure, or at least decent. The problem with this expectation is that it's ridiculous. If society as a whole isn't pure, how can players, coaches and owners expect to be?

The most recent evidence of this hypocrisy involves the admittedly thuggish behavior of the Super Bowl champion Baltimore Ravens, especially that of linebacker Ray Lewis. As most football fans know by now, Lewis and two buddies were implicated last year in a double homicide after a night of bar hopping. Eventually, Lewis plea-bargained on an obstruction of justice charge and his two buddies were acquitted because prosecutors had a weak case.

Whoever is responsible, Lewis' bad-boy image was ably reinforced for the playing field, where he hits hard -- and often late.

Lewis, of course, has no business being rewarded for his goonish behavior. But why should he be held to a higher standard than, say, Marc Rich, that goonish commodities trader who skipped the country after being indicted on charges of racketeering and tax evasion -- only to get a presidential pardon from Bill Clinton because Rich's ex-wife was a big campaign contributor? Why, in fact, should Lewis be held to a higher standard than anybody with enough bucks to buy a first-class defense lawyer or lobbyist?

Last week, University of Miami Coach Butch Davis was badmouthed in the press for taking the head coaching job with the Cleveland Browns, despite insisting for months that he wasn't leaving the school. A clumsy move indeed -- the guy was recruiting high school seniors the day before agreeing to a reported $3 million salary with the Browns. But aside from the extra media attention, is Davis any different than your average corporate heavyweight who quits just after singing the company's praises at an annual meeting?

And for those who rhapsodize about the good old days of professional sports, a story in last week's Wall Street Journal should offer pause. The piece details how the New York Giants of 1951 cheated, during the second half of the season by stealing signs from beyond the center field wall and then using a buzzer system to relay the information to the dugout and finally to the batter.

The system was in place when Bobby Thomson hit a three-run homer that defeated the Brooklyn Dodgers in a decisive playoff game -- the miracle finish that has been sanctified as "the shot heard round the world." In hindsight, perhaps it's not that surprising: The Giants' manager at the time, Leo Durocher, was fond of reminding his players that "nice guys finish last."

Purity in sports? It wasn't true a half century ago and it certainly isn't true now. But that misses the bigger point: The declining value system in sports only reflects the real world's indifference to sportsmanship in any context.

Oakland Raiders owner Al Davis summed it up years ago: "Just win baby." And whether it's box-office grosses, stock prices or even school test scores, that sentiment; like it or not, is just as true off the field as it is on.