San Diego Union-Tribune (Sunday)
Murphy was man for his time, not ’23
Sez Me … The NFL is back. It’s just not back here. We ran out of runway in 2017 — and, if anything, that airstrip since has suffered from shrinkage.
Training camps are opening, and we no longer have the sweet smell of football sweat, the eternal Julyaugust optimism, and rookie angst.
My, how we miss it. And I’m one to blame.
The Judases limped out of town, and those who don’t know a damn thing about the newspaper game — or San Diego’s constipated political gut and poorer-than-bat vision — view me as a bunion on one foot and gout on the other.
I keep hearing I should have turned over my powerful Jack Murphy-equivalency card (when Jack had the only one), and helped get a new stadium built to keep the NFL Team That Used To Be Here — you know, here.
Now, some Angry Villagers who never have doused their torches are messaging me, the punching bag and voodoo doll. I didn’t do enough. And now I also need to help get a new sports arena built.
Well, have at it. The media gets blamed for everything since that foreign correspondent handed Nero a book of matches, and I am (kinda) media. I can take it — even if you’re wrong. “We need Jack Murphy.” Or: “Jack Murphy would have gotten a new stadium done.”
It would be great if Jack, who passed in 1980, still were with us. But, even with his literary and oral muscle, it would have been impossible for him to swing the sledge he swung in the 1960s.
As in not even close to possible.
In no way am I slighting him. I’ve been at this for more than a half-century, or 20 more than Jack after cancer took him. So I’ve seen fools rush in — and many refused to leave.
First of all, I am not Jack Murphy. I knew him. I sat next to him in press boxes. He was the first sportswriter I read in my life. We talked. I wrote his obit. I think he was OK with me, even though I worked for the Tribune and he for the Union. Maybe because we both smoked a pipe.
The distance between San Diego of the 1960s and San Diego of any time in the 2000s is A to Zed. For one thing, we’ve been America’s Finest Banana Republic, with nine mayors — full and part time — since 2000.
This town is covered in the debris of hopelessness.
Jack was the most powerful sportswriter in our journalistic history. No question he had a hand in bringing the AFL team here, getting the stadium built and, eventually, the Padres coming into being.
Back then, this city had power brokers with Ruthian political clout, behind the scenes super-citizens. Jack had their ears, and City Hallians didn’t run scared, had vision, and actually listened to the public — unlike today’s Ham & Eggers.
But that strong hand, that Marciano overhand right, couldn’t have stopped the Judases’ moving vans. Not today. Even with his power, Jack couldn’t have twisted enough arms, atrophied as they now are.
If you believe this is jealousy or sour grapes, go ahead. I’ve never pretended to be Jack or anyone close. I wrote dozens of columns on the stadium issue, as I did with Petco (which couldn’t get built now, and still almost failed), because I knew the importance of this being a major league city. The NFL pulled off San Diego’s diapers and put pants on it, allowing it to stop crawling and walk. When it reached 56, it ran away from home.
Now we’re back to baby-stepping along bike lanes in a JV city that wants us to fix sidewalks in front of our homes and trash pick-up we already pay for.
San Diego is beyond fortunate to have the Padres, who were at the death-rattle stage before Ray Kroc performed pocketbook CPR and saved them (which Jack wasn’t going to be able to do). And you can bet they were leaving if Petco didn’t get done, which had to survive America’s Finest One Runway City nuisance lawsuits. So, look at it this way: Jack Murphy was a man for his time. But not this time. …
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Shohei Ohtani should draw fans from nearby Japan. …
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Stephen A. Smith always wanted to be a banker, so he almost left the media business until he realized banks have tellers, not yellers. …
Lebron wants to play with son Bronny, so with four years of eligibility remaining, dad is enrolling at USC. …
The Secret Service has ended its investigation into Cocainegate after discovering the drug had been hidden inside an otherwise empty box of Dunkin’ Donuts in the Lincoln Bedroom since the Taft Administration.
…
Rory Mcilroy says he’d quit competitive golf before joining LIV Golf. He’d still play in the majors. So he’d be quitting less competitive golf. …
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Cary Grant, Alfred Hitchcock, Rosalind Russell, Albert Finney and Peter O’toole snubbed again. …
The Philip Riverses are expecting their 10th child. I knew Rivers couldn’t retire. …
I’m thinking of running for supervisor, but only if I can work from home. …
George Santos is comparing himself to Rosa Parks. OK. One got on the bus, and one missed it.