Forum: Talk Sports

Harry Root Jr. is 92, he says.

I don’t believe it. Looks younger, oh, like 72. Acts younger. Laughs a lot. And, if not laughing at some lousy joke you made about his age, he’s smiling big because he does it so well and so naturally. Harry Root’s smile is big, corner to corner, showing all of his very good teeth.

Saw Harry Root and his beautiful nurse, Michele, recently when they were having lunch at the golf club of his lifetime, Palma Ceia in Tampa’s heart.

He was the golf champion of the golf, City of Tampa in Florida, 20 times, and of his club much more than that.

He was probably the city’s most often golf champ of any kind, but, strictly as an amateur. His business was importing boatloads of tropical fruit from south of us, mostly bananas. His nickname, naturally: Banana Root.

Some called him worse because he beat them so badly, and so often. He never won, he said, the State of Florida amateur but was runnerup almost two dozen times. He was simply great on the narrow courses, tops from the traps, after he’d take those long, sinewy fingers around the club for the blast. Gosh, but he was good. Gosh, but he was steady. Gosh, but he was unflappable. Gosh, could he handle adversity.

He could smile away trouble, and he still does, but this trouble now not a bad chip, legs gone lousy because of “peripheral neuropy, “ he said. “Insidious stuff. Can’t shake it. Tried. Can’t. Just can’t. Can’t stand.”. . . but, beginning to give me the Harry Root smile, passed on to his boys, Tommy and Harry, active still at the Tampa Palma Ceia Country Club.  Bad, unsteady, almost strengthless legs. And for an active man and top golfer…….well……

“Gosh, I miss that great game,” Harry said. “Such an outlet it was. Forces control. . . self-control, with the club and with the mind

“My best at Palma Ceia? Sixty five (65),” on the dangerously tight, fully-trapped, heavily treed course in the middle of the City of Tampa. It was built long ago on a Donald Ross design. It’s narrowness, out of bounds to the right often offered, small greens and traps made the par-70 tough, genuinely tough course where Harry Root was a founder of Ladies Professional Association with Didrikson, her wrestling husband, George, Patty Berg, Louise Suggs and a few others. But Harry was the LPGA’s daddy and Palma Ceia an early home.

I know, I was there when it was done, as a pal of Patty Berg. They all gave Root so much praise and control and fully trusted him. He, and his friends made it work at the start.  Then The Babe and George Zaharias bought a public course—and modest home on it. But, Zaharias contracted cancer and tied on a tee on the course still named for her. Patty Berg died last year near the Fort Myers she loved so.

Root and I are around, to talk and remember.

“How could I forget such moment?” Root asked out loud?

“Won’t. Can’t. Golf has meant so much to me. I owe the sport, the people in it and The Lord plenty,” he said, picking up a luncheon knife off a napkin, and gripping the handle like he was about to hole out yet another sand shot.

“Everybody ought to play golf, good or bad. Greatest humbler of them, all, like taking a seven on the 18th at Palma Ceia for a 71 . . .” or, 81. . . . or 9l . . . even a 101. 

Thank you, Harry Root, for being Harry Root.

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OK, gang, we are back. As reported to you here, we had a brief respite. But, expect the Bonuses to return on a regular, irregular basis several days weekly as part of your expanding Tampa Bay Online offerings.

Hello, everyone, again. Back at it. We began by accepting lunch with Frank Campisi, who made his dough in tomatoes but is a retiree from that needed important part of our economy that gives him more time to talk Florida Gators, where he was somewhat educated before a stint in the Air Force and flying fighters.

‘’Meet us noonish tomorrow at Donatello’s,’’ was all the message read. It meant meet him and others invited who could make it - all Gators, of course. Nice timing.  Most there loved their Gators but not their football and basketball records until lately. That old-time cheer, ‘’It’s great to be a Florida Gator,’’ has seldom had the full-blown acceptance it now does.

I was the last to arrive at the wonderful Donatello Restaurant on Dale Mabry near the Kennedy intersection, west across the big north-south throughway across from the late Dow Sherwood’s Pancake House.

Fine group. The subject: the national college football championship just won with the bowling over of Ohio State.

We toasted that on Campisi’s orders and with the fine Italian wine owner Guido had chilled and sent over. He joined. The Gator successes then and later would help his business. We also said a prayer for the goodnesses done for the Gators and thanked The Lord also for the life of Tampa Mayor Pam Iorio’s late dad, a brilliant man who often had joined us at these lunches, with our friend, Dr. Jack Guggino, one-time ring doc around here, for the heck of it. He was good at it.

Then, it began: ‘’Won’t have any trouble, we don’t think, raising money now,’’ said Florida money-raiser Scotty Peek, referring to the recent Gator football and basketball successes, then to the general growth of Florida and the mounting difficulty to qualify academically to get into the university. I had to say, when I went to Florida all those many years ago, a graduation diploma from a Florida high school and about $35 a semester got you through the gate. My high school was Wauchula High, now named Hardee High, for the county, not the town alone.

‘’We will set money records again,’’ said Peek. ‘’It is indeed a good time to be a Florida Gator. By the way, yes, football ticket prices will go up next year.’’ He was booed on that one, the only boo of the lunch.

On my right, Scotty on the left, was Bob Wilson, owner of Bob Wilson Dodge. He and Campisi share a north end luxury box together. None there that day, none anywhere, is a bigger Gator booster than Bob Wilson. Whatever they need he’ll help find - money, cars (a long personal romance begun when he was there as a student from Jacksonville). Had just returned from the football title game at Ohio State. Want a bargain in a Dodge, now’s the time to see Bob Wilson. His office on North Florida is aflood with Gator goodies and awards, plus so many with the Steve Spurrier personal touch. They are genuine pals.

Next to Wilson was former Florida quarterback, coffin corner punter, Coach Jimmy Dunn. Dunn was a smallish but versatile quarterback from Tampa Hillsborough High. His stoic old coach Bob Woodruff gave Dunn a full scholarship to Florida after the 147-pounder starred in an all-star game. Dunn started three years, ‘’scored in each of three games against Georgia,’’ remembered Wilson, one in a 7-6 Gator win. He did and his mother (Molly) was in the Gator Bowl women’s room, when he did it. It was one of the great TD runs, an option left, in Florida history, of some 70 yards. His coach called Dunn ‘’pound for pound (147 with pads), his best ever.’’ Dunn is now forming a new indoor football league, which he said, ‘’is going well.’’

To Dunn’s right was another former Gator QB, Jimmy Fisher (’74, ‘75, ‘76), a three-bowl player with a big arm. He was popular and now is a successful businessman in Tampa, Fisher, big then for a quarterback, is probably, sadly, best known for a mistake. He threw the ball out of bounds on a fourth Florida down to stop the clock. 

‘’Yep,’’ that’s the one they remember, ‘’just remind us all, interrupted Dunn, to say remember you ran and passed for over 300 yards beating Miami. I remember that.’’ Fisher loved that reminder.

Nice man, Jimmy Fisher.  Nice men, all assembled.

Men of good memories reminded in these best of times to be a Florida Gator, college champs of basketball and football. Not sure there was one among us so optimistic as to have ever thought there could be such a celebration. I did not.

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Tom McEwen is taking a break. His Breakfast Bonus columns will resume soon.

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Over your glass of chilled Florida orange juice, two eggs straight-up and broken over yellow grits, three slices of bacon, two slices of buttered toast with apple jelly, these breakfast additives:

Tom: “Thanks. Our dad (Ike Icardi) was a passionate football fan. He had been a Pittsburgh Panther mascot and he and John Unitas went to the same grade school, St. Justin’s in Pittsburgh.  As the son of Italian immigrants, he had no cultural predisposition to football but he took to it as a duck to water. Dad was also active in sports in his adopted home of Orlando, including the original Citrus Golf Classic and the Tangerine Bowl. He always spoke of Carroll Rosenbloom as a man of integrity. Working with Pete Rozelle was thrilling for him. It was a golden age and seemingly then later stage of those golden times.” – Mary Alice (Icardi) Jackson.
Neat. Thank you. Ike was the first man to suggest a meeting to discuss Tampa with him and that resulted in the Baltimore Colts to move three pre-season games in 1973 to Tampa Stadium as part of the Tampa area effort to demonstrate real interest in an NFL franchise. We did. Unitas was the QB. Incidentally, Ray Perkins was a player on that team.  Mr. Rosenbloom supported our successful franchise effort 100 percent. He genuinely helped, as did Ike Icardi in that little drama.

“I came across the article and seeing the 2007 date I thought my dad was resurrected. He passed away in 1988. Thank you for remembering him. It was a thrill to see his name in print again — John Icardi, Raleigh N.C.
I can tell you without him we would not have gotten it all done as quickly and importantly as we did. Nice, quiet, effective man.

“Can the Bucs-and-Dungy connection proliferate anymore than they have already in coaching in the NFL? Is this the fastest this has been done? Has there been anything about Monte Kiffin being offered the 49er head job? Think about the rivalry that would have caused across San Francisco Bay? — Larry Goodman, Tampa.
Yes, we did mention it and yes, Monte was offered that 49er job. I have thought about it. Thanks.

Enjoyed the piece on Rick Casares, the ex-Bear All-Pro. He was also a greater punter and extra point and field goal man. He passed for some scores at Florida, too. I shall never forget a 0-0 tie between the Gators and Georgia Tech in 1963. I was a soaking wet freshman and impressed so with the big guy from Tampa. - Ron Pride. Clermont.
Yes. I covered it. He was a fearless moose. Remember when somebody gave him a cheap shot at Mississippi State, he stood in the center of the court and offered to take everybody on. Remember he was for a time a professional fighter. Underage, of course. Could have made boxing a pro career, had he chosen.

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Rick Casares says the Indianapolis Colts have the weapons but the Chicago Bears have the heart.

His heart.

And they should and that is enough for him to pick his old team to win the big game Sunday.

Rick is the guy who was big before his time and an all-pro for the Bears.

He wears still his 1963 NFL championship ring and is so proud of it. Ought to be. He was a star of the title game win over the New York Giants in what he called was “the sneakers game”. It had rained overnight in New York and the Giants field was slippery. The Bears had sneakers. The Giants did not.

Nor did the Giants have Rick Casares who was great without a footage advantage, but with it was just wonderful.

Shoot, Casares was wonderful always, in uniform.

“I never made more than $25,000 a year,” he said the other day. “We wanted to play then. The players now want pay.”

Casares can say that.

At 6-2 or more and 250 or more and about 74, he’s fit and if they guys now don’t like it, let them lump it.

Casares never ran from a fight. Never lost one, I don’t think. Indeed fought professionally early, but chose football as a Florida Gator, for a fine career, over basketball, over track, over boxing, in a ring. Once challenged the crowd in the basketball arena at Mississippi State. They declined.

Casares, in longevity, was Tampa’s homegrown professional hero No. 2, after baseball legend Al Lopez. Lopez was our first. Casares was our second.

Lunched with Rick—can’t miss his ring—the other day at Palma Ceia’s locker room grill, along with South African safari lodge owner Tony Kennett. Casares was recognized by all, greeted by all. He still is the biggest man, most muscular man in most rooms, and maybe, the nicest. He wasn’t suited up. We were visiting about the Super Bowl ahead because his Bears are playing the Colts Sunday. You will remember we are talking about the great back of more than a dozen Bear years, the great championship- years when Mike Ditka was a tight end, and Joe Fortunato, a teammate.

Remember, this the Rick Casares off the mean streets of Tampa, New Jersey, then Tampa again, the great, great extraordinarily big, menacing full back of the Tampa Jefferson High Dragons of Coach Dick Spoto, of the superb Florida Gators of 1952-3 who beat Georgia so badly, the Gator Bowl champs, and of the Bears. Lives here still with great wife, Polly, whose career I have charted all the way.

Good man, Rick Casares. Tough and talented big man, Rick Casares. Overcame plenty, this man whose dad was murdered in Ybor City, who survived a horrible car accident that involved a death, who made it big when it would have been easy to give up. Casares is big and tough, but talks easy and soft, even sweetly at times. But, those who have suggested he was anything but tough, like back when he began The Huddle Lounge on Dale Mabry that he sold and has become the Joe Redner Place of male significance.

The truth is, Casares is a hoot. Great sense of humor. Smiles a lot, but never, I guess, at opposing linebackers. Gosh, but he was a bulldozer with the ball, a fast bulldozer. He could run around you, or over you, your choice. Could have been fighter, basketball player (captain of Gator team), but “"football was his game” said the late Wally Butts of Georgia, against whom Casares once scored 30 points, Rick was also a runner, punter, and place-kicker.

“Well,” he began, “I am so impressed with Peyton Manning the quarterback of the Colts. And their speed. They have great speed, of course, and a fine coach, in Tony Dungy. Sure like him,” but, Rick, who doesn’t?”

“Still,” Casares added, “they re playing my Bears,” for whom he gained the most yards until Walter Payton. “I pick the Bears because of defense. That is how they beat the Saints (New Orleans). I think they can do it again. Oh, yes, I worry about Rex Grossman, a Gator like me, running around with the ball in one hand waiting for the deep receiver to break clear and not throwing to the short man who may be open. . . but, Thomas Jones is a solid running back and that defense, I say again, is bigger and better”.

“Hate to have to pick against Tony Dungy. . . but, then Lovie Smith,” the Bears coach, “is a fine man, too. Bears. . . yes the Bears. . . my Bears.”

Nobody wants to pick against Tony Dungy, Rick, but you surely should.

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‘’Did you know, Tom,’’ came the question from the sandy-haired man outside of Iavarone’s restaurant in north Tampa, a fine, friendly steak place, ‘’that I got four kids off my 2001 championship team at Chamberlain (High) in the NFL? Four? Not yet all starters but they were there this 2006 year. Proud.’’

Four off the same high school team in Tampa, already a cradle of pro coaches? Wow!

‘’Yep, my 2001 state finals team (12-3) that lost only to Naples in the title game at Tallahassee. Know that?’’ asked Coach Billy Turner, sandy-haired, smiling as ever, walking as if he’s straddling a row on a strawberry farm, this Chamberlain head coach of so much success and so many years.

‘’Remember we lost the first two, won the next 12, then lost the Naples game. Beat Hillsborough High twice that season, remember?’’ Billy Turner went on. He was into it now.

‘’Four guys off my team were in the NFL some, if not all of the season. Remember?’’

No, sorry. Tell me.

He did. They are:

Oliver ‘’Ollie’’ Hoyte: Dallas Cowboys (North Carolina State). Linebacker, 6-3, 250.

Broderick Bunkley: Philadelphia Eagles (Florida State). Defense, 6-2, 300. Powerful.

Brian Clark: Denver Broncos (North Carolina State). Wide receiver, 6-2, 204, punts, too. Got big.

Greg Lee: Arizona Cardinals (Pittsburgh). Wide receiver, 6-1, 202.

Most active last year was Hoyte. Played plenty. May play more. 

Bunkley was a first-round draft pick. You know he’ll stick. 

‘’We didn’t make any of them great football players, but we taught them the hard work ethic. I am sure that contributed to their success so far,’’ said Turner, a Hall of Fame athlete at the University of Tampa (1956-60) and a Hall of Fame high school coach. He is into his 28th year in education, in teaching and coaching. He’s a marvel. He isn’t just The Coach, he’s the example as a man, father, teacher and coach.

This lanky kid out of Auburndale went to the University of Tampa to play his sports before it became a big-time place. He went when Marcelino Huerta had that as his ambition from his offices in those days on a floating rig on the Hillsborough River in front of the beautiful campus. Huerta was just right for the time, then moving to Wichita to do big things there and return to Tampa to run the MacDonald Training Center and continue as an extraordinary contributor to this town. He died far too young, but his family remains in Tampa.

In those days, the coach now and then would suit up at the half or on the sidelines and slip into the game for a few plays. Huerta did. An official noticing he was in uniform, said he was breaking the rules. But Chelo told him, ‘’won’t matter. I can’t play any better than I can coach.’’

Different deal with Billy Turner. This wonderful master athlete, quarterback and leader lettered all four years in three sports. No one did that before, or after.

‘’I loved the university then and I do now. You and I remember all the great stories, especially when the Spartans played at Plant Field, and then Phillips Field, now Tampa Preparatory School. But, now, only some of the key spectator sports are gone — like football. UT was never better than now under President Robert Vaughn, nor was it ever so vibrant, exploding with new facilities, including dorms, a new athletic field where old Plant once was, and ambition.

‘’I know, I know,’’ said Billy Turner, with wife Lucy the parents of eight, a majority in education here. ‘’I won’t quit that. I won’t stop being a part of UT, of Chamberlain where we had that wonderful 2001 season and so many others, and of working with young people who look to us for help and guidance.’’

And, they get it, Billy Boy, they get it.

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The setup for the Tampa Bay Lightning was perfect — just perfect - Friday night.

The Bolts had a winning streak on and had seemed to be playing better.

Moreover, they were playing the New Jersey Devils at the St. Pete Times Forum in Tampa in the holiday atmosphere of Gasparilla before at least 21,404, a juiced up festive crowd that included perhaps a couple hundred who favored the Devils. Great setting. Great time to break the embarrassing statistic that says Tampa loses more at home than it wins.

“Odd,” someone said, “but think if the Lightning does indeed make the playoffs, as most of us think they will, “they could have a better record on the road than at home.”

“That is unacceptable,” said defensive Bolt Dan Boyle.

And embarrassing.

So, the Lightning does the impossible before Jose Gaspar and a sellout crowd waiting to explode.

They lost again at home.

What was it?

200 to nothing?

Might has well have been. The Lightning was predictably lousy — at home. They stunk.  Got shut out.  Gaspar left sober. The crowd, seeing nothing to interest them on the ice, went to the counters for grog and food. I checked. The totals on food consumption were high. There certainly wasn’t much, make that nothing, to toast, unless you were from Hackensack.

I knew the Lightning line would be well, but don’t forget, New Jersey in Martin Brodeur is probably the best in goal in the National Hockey League.

Still, the Lightning beat him the last time they played,

The Lightning, when its stars want to play and do play, can beat anybody and twice on Sunday. Oh, I know, their two scoring leaders, both wonderful players and men, Vincent Lecavalier and Martin St. Louis played in the NHL All-Star game two nights before in Texas. Don’t think is right either. It is a Hobson’s Choice. Stars want, deserve, to be honored. Their team needs them badly, especially if they are playing a tender like Brodeur.

No, neither St. Louis, nor Lecavalier, figured in the scoring. I say again, the Lightning played a lousy game. Lousy and at an important time in the season. This was where they have picked it up before.

Oh, sure, Lightning Coach John Tortorella spoke of the heroics of rival tender Brodeur. He also mentioned his own man in goal - Johan Holmqvist - did well. And he did.

When I said the score was 200-0, but admitted it was only 2-0, that 2-0 was true but only because the Tampa team pulled tender Holmqvist in the final minute plus for a shooter — always a desperation move. But Jersey scored on the open net, no Holmqvist there by choice. Thus it was a 1-0 game. Holmqvist had 23 saves. The Lightning’s Jay Feaster wants to keep Holmqvist and will try to add an extension to the one-year deal the Swede now has.

The shutout is embarrassing as well. This is a team that includes Lecavalier, St. Louis and the versatile Brad Richards. He, too, is so disappointed in the home losses, saying the Bolts were stung badly by losing at home, that such a thing is “unacceptable,” a popular description. Naturally, somebody made it clear that was Brodeur’s ninth shutout this year, and 89th in a Hall of Fame career.

A team of the firepower of the Bolts simply can’t be shutout, ever. We brag so of the firepower and the versatility of the club, and how most games are sold out. Well, selling out is a trend that performances like that Friday night can fix.

Jose Gaspar indeed went home sober that evening. He so wanted a shooter before the Saturday Gasparilla parade.

1-0… pffffft.

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Bill Currie, a bigtime Ford man hereabouts, gave one of his Gasparilla is-a-fine-thing parties Thursday noonish-on at Grillsmith Restaurant on South Dale Mabry and if the attendees are right, the Indianapolis Colts will hand the Chicago their jocks in the Miami Super Bowl Sunday week.

No, it was not unanimous, but clearly the Tony Dungy influence was profound. Dungy is the head coach of the Colts, taking the job after the Tampa Bay Bucs let him go in a change that brought Jon Gruden here to take his place and the Bucs the next year to a Super Bowl championship in San Diego.  The Bucko fortunes have not been so hot since, but the Colts’ have, and now Dungy is taking them to the title game.

Dungy apparently has no political ambitions. But, he could be elected to a post of his choice, here now. Popularity goes fleet. Don’t know what a stuff by the Bears would do to his numbers, but with the experts at the bash at Grillsmith Thursday, asked for a Super Bowl pick, so many said: “Colts. . .why?. . . Dungy.”

An exception was Wayne Fontes, now a Tarpon Springs permanent, the former almost Buc head coach and sure-enough head coach of the Detroit Lions, but a careful exception.

No offense to Tony Dungy, “man, and they have surely done well, but the Bear defense may be too much. The Colts run around. They’re tough, and we all love Dungy, but the Bears are big and tough,” Fontes went on.

“The Colts throw so much, the Bears may be able to handle that. Oh, yes, the quarterback of the Colts, Peyton Manning, has an advantage and so often it comes to the quarterback in the Super Bowl. Be a helluva game.”

“That Tony is something. His players really like him. He is such a good and fine man. Can anyone pull against him?” Fontes asked.

No, but, coach, the man leading the Bears is a good guy and popular one, too, Lovie Smith.

“Yes, yes, yes. I know it. Tough isn’t it?”

Bill Currie himself and his spokesman, Darrell Boyd, like the Colts flat out, because of Dungy.

Phil Alessi, Barney Barnett and Capt. Scott Moore have taken him out often, Dungy. And if fishing is an indicator, he’ll win Sunday. When we got him for fishing at first, the coach knew nothing. After two summers he was as good as Alessi and Barnett and better than me. Studied it. Was intent as he is on a sideline when we fished the flats well south of Tampa.  Lost fish, sure, but never panicked.

“I like Dungy and his team in this game ahead,” said Currie. “So versatile. Got the quarterback in Peyton Manning and speed,” drawn so closely to the game because of his great friendship and patronage of ex-Buc quarterback Doug Williams.

Grillsmith owner Todd Dziubek (I think) likes Dungy, and the Colts, though is a Bear fan, too. Sure he is. Had a bar full of Colts and Bear fans. Easy to be for the Colts.

“I like Indy,” said attorney Cusack. “Can’t not be for our man, your man, Tony.”

“Got to pick our man Dungy,” said Cecil Riggs, expressing easily the prevailing feeling at Grillsmith.

Jerry Pulig said the same. But another, pragmatist Bill Butler said, “Tony’s not playing. Picking the Colts because of Dungy is not enough.”

“Here’s an angle,” said Will Beckwith, “the Colts have Peyton Manning at quarterback. The Bears have the kid from Florida, Rex Grossman. He may have a career game against the Colts. He hits big ones for both sides. The Colts will exploit his errors.  Indianapolis is an opportunist team. They are where they are because of that, tak ing advantage of the circumstance.”

Truth is, sir, and so are the Bears.

But, in Tampa, among the folks out there, it is the Colts by acclamation.

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The tie to this one and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers is not just that the newest head coach in the National Football League is the son of Monte Kiffin, forever the defensive coordinator of the Bucs who is admired and so copied, but that when he could he’d ease into quarterback meetings of Bucs coach Jon Gruden.

No, it was no secret. Lane Kiffin was welcome, as are those who copy the Tampa-2 defense that the coordinators seem to love.

Al Davis, the go-for-it owner of the Oakland Raiders. surprised the world again by hiring Lane Kiffin, 31, to head coach his hard-times football team. And with the NFL requiring that teams give careful consideration to minority candidates, for the record: Kiffin is white and the coach he fired, Art Shell, is black. Shell’s team was 2-14, had no offense, has some high-public-image players, and an owner who really doesn’t give a flip what anyone thinks of his moves.

Davis originated the phrase, ‘’Just Win, Baby,’’ and for the longest time, the Raiders did. But not lately, not in four seasons of losing. He’s 77. He’s been miserable and he has shown it. He’s always been a friend to Tampa, notably in the NFL franchise pursuit years, the Super Bowl efforts. When he brought a team to Tampa for a Super Bowl, he didn’t like his hotel assigned. It was changed on the spot - 1984.

In the hiring of young Lane Kiffin, youth is surely served. Kiffin is the youngest-ever head coach in the NFL, for the moment anyway.

And, Kiffin is the second son of the main Buc man on defense and as fine a man as there is in the NFL. He’s a good coach, daddy, citizen, fan of all on center stage.  He’s wonderful at what he does, defense. The Bucs in his times have been tops, just dandy, and once Super Bowl champs with Gruden just in from jumping for the job in Tampa when it opened with the decision to let Tony Dungy go. Dungy wound up where he has wound up, in the Super Bowl just ahead against the Chicago Bears and Lovie Smith, who - like Dungy - is another Buc alumnus.

No, said Monte Kiffin, my son, Lane, a fine and smart man, did not go to school in Tampa. He went to Fresno State in California. Was a quarterback with early coaching tendencies. Most will conclude his experience is limited because, well, it is. He worked a year at Jacksonville coaching, then returned west to Southern California to become the offensive coordinator. There Davis, always in quest of youth, found him. He put young coaches, like John Madden, Mike Shanahan and Gruden on the spot as the head guys and they produced, all.

‘’I figured it would come to this,’’ said his dad. ‘’He started early watching me work. He got into the films early. I could see it coming. I’m proud Al Davis puts this faith in him. Age, I don’t think, will hurt him. Hasn’t hurt me,’’ laughing, and it hasn’t. His son is headed now for Mobile, site of the Senior Bowl this weekend. Gruden and Kiffin are there - Gruden is a head coach and Monte Kiffin a defensive coordinator. You can figure the son will be a student of all of this as he has been a student of all in the past.

Now, of the coaches involved recently, all of whom worked with Monte Kiffin here, I asked the coach for a short comment on each:

Tony Dungy, Colts: ‘’Whatever you see you get, as promised.’’

Mike Tomlin, Steelers now: ‘’When he was 29, in his first year with the Bucs, I remember telling Coach Gruden, ‘He’s a good one. Won’t be here long. He’ll do well.’ ‘’

Lovie Smith, Bears now: ‘’A players’ coach.’’

Herm Edwards, Kansas City now: ‘’Tremendous people person.’’

Lane Kiffin: ‘’Got a great job. Has a great wife in Layla Reaves (daughter of quarterback John). Is 31 going on 42. Has a great future.’’

And the No. pick in the April draft ahead.

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Well, it is clear now that the Tampa Bay is not the Cradle of Pro Coaches, as the University of Miami (Ohio) was so long known as the Cradle of College Coaches. It is more.

As the Buccaneers grow older, they now have become producing grounds for administrators, scouts, general managers, as well as more and more coaches. Success on the field and in the offices has done that.

This is notable now because so many stories have been written about how many head coaches moved from Tampa Bay recently to head jobs, many black and out of the training of Coach Tony Dungy, who is African-American but has not and does not wear that on his sleeve.

In recent days, with the class act of Dungy taking his Indianapolis Colts to the Super Bowl with that masterful AFC win over the defending champion New England Patriots, where they now face the Chicago Bears, head coached by Buc protégé, Lovie Smith, all of these roads from Tampa have begun to come out.

Yet, not mentioned is the fact that the general manager of the Chicago Bears, Jerry Angelo, is not just a former Buc administrator, but a man who was before the Buccaneers a defensive line coach (perhaps the slenderest in football) and recruiting coordinator for the old, good University of Tampa Spartans in 1973-74. Those were the last years of the Spartans. Dennis Fryzel was the head coach. The intercollegiate Spartans were closed down after the 1974 season when the Buc franchise was awarded to Tampa in April of that year, still a move cursed by some. New Bucs coach John McKay, from the University of Southern California, hired Fryzel to coach special teams and the Bucs hired Angelo for their scouting and recruiting. Angelo went from the Bucs to the Bears, did a good enough job that they promoted him to general manager, his present important role.

Now, a part of that alignment was the fact that Angelo hired Lovie Smith, off the Buc staff by way of St. Louis, to be head coach. The Angelo-Smith team produced this fine, tough Bears team headed next weekend for Miami and the Super Bowl game there against the Colts — coached by their pal, Tony Dungy.  Know this too, that Smith and Angelo picked up running back Thomas Jones when — you got it — the Bucs let him go. Jones has been a star. Was a star last Sunday at Chicago when the Bears surprised New Orleans for the NFC championship in the snow.

That is not all, and that is not unusual - trades, swaps going good and bad. This New Orleans team that was a win away from the Super Bowl had 28 new players, and a new young unknown coach who had not had such a responsibility in the past.

But, the original tale is not all told, how Tampa has become a fountainhead of coaches and administrators.

Prior to the move of Lovie Smith to the top job at Chicago, Herman Edwards, so popular here, became the head coach of the New York Jets, then moved to the Kansas City Chiefs, where he is now. Over the weekend, a former Bucs assistant, Mike Tomlin, became the head coach of the Pittsburgh Steelers.

Meanwhile, Al Davis, the owner of contrasts of the Oakland Raiders, hired 31-year-old Lane Kiffin as his coach. Lane’s dad, Monte, the 10-year Bucs defensive coordinator and top gun, turned it down previously. Others had been offered the job, for what that matters. He’s young. His youth will help with the team what was bad last year, the club Bucs coach Jon Gruden left (at a terrific price to the Bucs in draft picks) to come here. Gruden took his first Tampa team — much assembled by the departed/dismissed Dungy — to a Super Bowl championship his first season here in 2002, and beat ... Oakland. 

Gruden, and Buc fans, are most hopeful about the season about to start with early camp. The Bucs have some money and draft picks and their fans have great expectations, just as does the good guy Dungy for Miami and the Super Bowl there.

That’s about it, the tale of the Buc cradle, begun by the advancement of the old Bucko coaches to head jobs. And the good reference by having Jerry Angelo the successful manager of the Bears. 

No, got to emphasize the tie of the Raiders now again to Tampa with the naming of Lane Kiffin as the head coach there, where old Buckerooni Warren Sapp (never should have let him go) toils still. Young coach Kiffin’s wife, Lala, is the beauteous daughter of former quarterback star, John Reaves, now in Tampa real estate.

Looking through this 1996 Buccaneer media guide, with Dungy in the old Tampa Bay orange on his first cover and bios of so many of his assistants who have moved on, found page 36 where pictured is the young scout for colleges for the Bucs — he has the Bandits and USF — in his background, Tim Ruskell. Ruskell is now the president of the Seattle Seahawks.

Bucs got some good alums out there, eh?

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Well, you could say it began here in Tampa, this Indianapolis Colts journey to the Super Bowl just ahead in Miami.

Because it did. And, that start of it pretty much cinched the Tampa Bay bid for the National Football League franchise that is now the Bucs, that spawned both head coaches (Tony Dungy and Lovie Smith) in Super Bowl XLI, Super Bowls here and in the future — well, so much.

My job as sports editor and columnist and unabashed activist kept me in the middle of it all. And, it all worked.

Got this phone call in early 1973 — gads, that was a long time ago. 

‘’Mr. McEwen, my name is Ike Icardi. I live in Orlando. I am an attorney/agent and I represent Johnny Unitas, the quarterback who has a motel at our Orlando airport, and the Colts themselves in some matters. I have a proposition you might like to hear about for your town. You are sponsoring NFL and college games there, I understand, to get a big bowl and maybe an NFL team down the way. Are you not?’’

We were. We had built old Tampa Stadium, on part of the property where Raymond James Stadium sits now, for the University of Tampa home games, a bowl game, pro exhibition games. Yes, about anything we could attract, and a jewel to that point had been a Florida-Air Force game that required end zone bleachers to be installed to take the seating over 50,000 - otherwise it was only 46,000. But with a friend-promoter named Bill Marcum willing and another, the late Ed Rood, rich, we got a Sports Authority named and were on our way to bigger things than we could have imagined.

Icardi asked if we could meet the next day at Tampa Airport. We offered descriptions; met at the head of the stairs; lunched and this man who looked exactly like an Ike Icardi said these things:

The Baltimore Colts of owner Carroll Rosenbloom, powerful in the NFL, was having a problem. Opposition would not allow him to put the preseason tickets on the season-ticket charge. He had been to Phoenix, which had offered training facilities, and a dorm at a good price, good rental on its stadium for three games (he wanted to play one somewhere else), promotion of the games, and a guaranteed number of three-pregame sales. Heady, I said, Tampa would more than match whatever Phoenix would do. He told me to call him in a day. The Colts would prefer to be here. We shook.

I went to see the mayor, Dick Greco. Whatever we can do. Went to see Joe Zalupski, executive director of the Sports Authority. Fine. Visited with Dick Bowers at the University of South Florida, who had the dorms and cafeteria available in mid and late summer at a good price. Saw Rood and Marcum who would sell the tickets. Floated the idea around, then backed off, turning over to Marcum.

They sold 26,000 season tickets after a rally at the old University Club; Bowers and USF came through for dorms and training there John Unitas, who became a friend, as did Rosenbloom, did promotion. Icardi did his part.

We had fine crowds all. The pitch was if we did well, it would help plenty with push for the expansion franchise. We also got unexpected publicity. Rosenbloom got Robert Irsay to buy the Los Angeles Rams, then put them up for sale, and swap them to him for the Colts.  He did.

I remember the first Colt preseason game. Irsay (who is around no more but his son Bill is and runs the team as we saw this last weekend, after the stir his dad caused by moving the team from Baltimore to Indianapolis to become the present-day team of Tampa-trained Tony Dungy and Super Bowl bound), saw his Colts play for the first time from old Tampa Stadium’s pressbox. The late, elder Irsay said to me, one thing, you’ll never see me, the owner, on the Colt sidelines. He was down there at the half talking to the coaches.

Now, a moment to remember: That night, Carroll Rosenbloom said to us: I pledge my support to Tampa for an NFL franchise after what this city did for us when we needed you. No one will be awarded an NFL franchise ahead of you. No one was. The Bucs were the 28th franchise, awarded a couple of years later, and a fellow named Hugh Culverhouse bought them for $16 million, his family later selling them for about $193 million to the present owner, Malcolm Glazer. Worth a big more now.

Thanks, Ike Icardi, for the phone call.

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Make this one a keeper, Tony Dungy, please.

Become as good a football coach as we know you are a fisherman, sir.

And he is an ace fisherman, and he is self-made, with a little help from professionals in that sport - Scott and son Jason Moore, Phil Alessi and Publix man Barney Barnett - in the bountiful waters around Gasparilla Island, south of us a bit here in Sarasota and Lee County waters. Boca Grande with its 35-foot Gulf of Mexico pass is there and so are the fish from hammerheads to hogfish.

Make this one a keeper, Tony, this latest run at the championship. Yes, we follow you closely down where you learned to head coach the Tampa Bay Buccaneers before following the talent to Indianapolis, and gave up the great fishing for snook, redfish, trout, ladyfish, tarpon and the others, and including that big, old cobia that you caught in the Inland Waterway and boated and he nearly broke all our legs with his flapping.

Many — I’d say most, but that’s an opinion — would like to see you move along in these NFL playoffs, starting with a win in the semifinals today against the dangerous, experienced New England Patriots, but at your place. Then win it all and bring that big trophy for us to see again, one we haven’t since Jon Gruden did it for us in the 2003 Super Bowl at San Diego. Beat New England today and then get to Miami and the Super Bowl to play New Orleans or Chicago, coached by your protégé, Lovie Smith.  What a deal that would be, you and Lovie for everything, in Miami. Won’t have to worry about snow. And you’ll have a Gator quarterback that can be hot or cold, play. But, can’t underestimate those Gators any more after the national title win over Ohio State, your part of the world. Know you couldn’t have picked that. 

We know you’ve been to the playoffs plenty of times, but never to the Super Bowl.  You took these Bucs three times into the playoffs, but not beyond the second round. Philadelphia was a nemesis and still is to the Bucs.

You got the quarterback in Peyton Manning. He’s got to love you. He’s low key, like you. He’s understated like you. He’s modest, too, and ought to be able to catch this big cobia named New England. Remember, you could be playing the Patriots in Foxborough where it is going to be like Nome today. Break there.

You have remained a popular coach and man here. You were well regarded, you and your family, were classy and respected, appreciated as you doubtless saw at its zenith when a son of yours died here not long ago under such dramatic circumstances. You saw it with the raised eyebrows of so many when ownership decided on a change hoping to go deeper into the playoffs, to the Super Bowl. Well, that happened the next year when young Jon Gruden came from Oakland and immediately took the Buckos to the Super Bowl and beat the bejeepers out of his old Oakland team. Many of us believe he won in part because of the knowledge of Oakland from coaching there. Fine. Neat. Good.

But, you kept your home here and loved to visit, in part to worship at your old church, go to Alessi’s Bakery on Cypress, buy the goodies, jaw with Phil, a very good one at that, then hoot around harmlessly and hope the Bucs and the Colts do well. Fact is, Coach, you’ve done a bit better. But, Gruden, and the Buckeroonies are doing OK, got a lot of draft picks and some money this year, and a whole lot of new assistant coaches.

Get it done, coach. Win it all and come home again and go fishing with Barnett, Alessi, Scott and me again.

I consider you a fine man, a good a good coach and a solid fisherman now, and I appreciate you candor—like that truth you told me the last time we fished.

Folks, Scott, Alessi, me and the coach were hunkered down over by the Sunshine Skyway, just north of the boat channel, in the shade of an island, last summer, to eat lunch - food we’d picked up that morning early at Alessi’s. It was fine. It was a great time. Yes, we had caught fish and would catch more.

Coach Dungy, looked at me with those big old, soulful eyes, and said:

“Tom, I want to tell you something. I have to.’’

My, I said to myself, what NFL rule has he broken?

“Remember the first time you called me about fishing with Phil—and you said, ‘meet me at Alessi’s Bakery on Cypress in the morning at 6:30. Bring nothing, coach, but a hat. We’ll go down to Anna Maria to meet Scott Moore, the pro guide and fine man. Phil will drive his big car.  At Phil’s we’ll get soft drinks on ice, pastries, macaroni salad, pick up a half dozen Cubans and be on our way.’

“Tom, I said to myself, ‘this must be a big boat they have for us if it will need six Cubans to make it go,’ ’’ and laughed.

“I had no idea you were talking about Cuban sandwiches.

“I thought you meant men to man oars or something.’’

---

The Tampa Bay Lightning have a quality team, a winning team, a likely playoff team in the National Hockey League, more fans than most in the NHL, a pleased administration, some swell stars who do neat things for humanity off the ice, and no Michael Vick.

You read and saw how the gifted Atlanta Falcons quarterback was said by police to have sought to take a bottle of water on a plane — a bottle of water with a booster in it.

It was confiscated. He was not arrested. Possession of 20 ounces of marijuana likely can get you fined. He won’t be by the police. Clearly if this is true, the quarterback is a lot smarter in carrying a football than speed.

The Falcons — their, our former, Rich McKay, the GM boss there, will take care of it, with the NFL overseeing.

What Vick gets out of this is bigtime bum publicity for himself and his team, an unofficial rap sheet, a lot more doubters in Atlanta (he was booed after his last outing and shot birds at the fans, word was), a changed reputation, and future scrutiny.

Well. The NHL Lightning have had no such problems and aren’t likely to do that.

The team is smaller, of a vastly different background, close to their fans in the games at the St. Pete Times Arena (and all of the others in the NHL), play a game in which one mistake, lapse, error, can cost your team a game. One. There are fewer on the team, fewer stars, fewer on the ice at work.

“Not likely to happen to us, such a thing,” said Lightning President Ron Campbell, asked. “And we don’t want it. I tell anyone who wants to know, the biggest headlines come from bad deals. Do something wrong, and you got the biggest headline. Look how it has followed Terrrell Owens around.

“A lot of our players come from small towns, that makes a difference and I keep coming back to the team being smaller and seeing each and their fans more often and close up,” added Campbell. “Our players are more interested in the game and kids. They all sponsor kids groups at our games here. Some of them have individual foundations.”

The Lightning Foundation overall is big (more than $1.6 million) already) and successful, notably its link to Tampa General Hospital and minors, in need.  Vinny Testaverde, Brad Richards and Martin St. Louis are, at the moment, the three biggest stars and all are heavy into foundations and other charities.

“No, we don’t have any special guys who want publicity in any way except on solid play,” said Campbell. “Now I know, Vick didn’t want that publicity.  But, then, you have to say, stay away from such stuff.

“I do say hockey is different because it is a smaller team.  You mess up and it is more likely to hurt your team than in football. So, perhaps that’s a reason too for our good name. You don’t see that kind of carrying on anywhere in the NHL.

“Now,” he said, smiling, “I have never seen anywhere a group of people that can drink a six-pack of beer faster. I don’t say they don’t get rowdy, but on the beer. They, really, are quite young. Hey, even on smaller teams like basketball, you dribble and shoot like crazy, that’s one shot out of 200. Your screw up in hockey is far more likely to be more important, to cost you the 2-1 game. They are told that. They know that. And, they don’t want to be the one to screw up like that.”

Also, Campbell said, the Lightning players, like management, enjoy being in Tampa and on this team and want so badly to win.

“Think about it. We have a Stanley Cup in no time. Chicago hasn’t had one since 1961. Toronto, the hockey capital of the world, hasn’t had one since 1967.  We all love it. Our attendance averages out at about 19,000 at home. Some others wish they could do that good.

“Maybe that is all part of the belief of mine we don’t have any Michael Vicks on our team.”

Lightning fans, happy now with the record, will be happy to hear that, too.

But, they will be happier with a win at Carolina tonight.

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Muhammad Ali, said the man who knew and knows him as well as anybody - longtime handler Angelo Dundee - loved birthday parties, Christmas parties, any kind of celebration.

‘’I guarantee you if he went to a party today — Ali’s 65th, if you can believe that flight of time — the first thing he would do is stick a forefinger in the center of his birthday cake, pull the finger out, put it in his mouth and love the icing, making one of those faces Muhammad could make,’’ said Dundee from his Miami home. He and wife, Helen, have one here in Tampa Bay, too, up near where daughter Terri Coughlin lives.  Son, Dr. Jimmy, lives across the bridge in Pinellas and has offices in Belleair.

‘’Muhammad was a clown, you know that,’’ Dundee went on. ‘’He loved to win so we could all celebrate and he could be the center of attention there, too.’’ Dundee, an old friend, as was his late brother, Chris, asked if I remembered meeting the man who may have been the world’s greatest athlete ever, the first. I did, but he remembered it better.

‘’We had been out west (where Ali lives, now, in Arizona) and had a stop at the old Tampa Airport on the way to Miami. We had a little time and I called you and you came out to the terminal.’’

I did. I saw Angelo. He said Cassius Clay, his name then, was walking around, generally unrecognized. Then the impressive young man came up and smiled through the introduction. I notice his fly was down, but I sure didn’t say anything, until he was gone.

Then, I asked Angelo about it. He said, ‘’yes, I saw it. He knows it.’’

We visited for a piece to be written in my newspaper, The Tampa Tribune. Did not mention the fly.

Not much later, Ali met Sonny Liston in Miami Beach and beat him. Bill MacDonald, of Miami, who owned the old Tampa Tarpons, was co-promoter, with New York travel czar, Bill Fugazy.  Naturally, I had good media third-row seats near Ali’s corner in the Miami Beach Convention Center.

Now, hear this from Dundee:

‘’I think that was to Ali what the win was over Ohio State by the Gators, for the national championship — you know what a Gator fan my son Jimmy is — his best. I think it was a perfect Ali fight. I think it was his best fight ever. You saw it.’’

Yes, and it was.  Liston failed to answer the bell in the seventh and Ali won the championship in February 1964.  Liston had won the heavyweight title from Floyd Patterson the year before.

‘’I watched the Gators closely. Always to all sports,’’ said Dundee. ‘’Now this great match up between Ali and Liston. Yes, I was with Ali, Clay then, but it was his finest hour, like Florida at Phoenix for the title. I like the comparison,’’ said Dundee, who will always have an opinion on a sports event and he will tell you what it is.

Like us all, we are dismayed, frustrated and regretful that the great athlete, Ali, so disliked by so many of us for some time, has the problems he does these days — Parkinson’s and spinal maladies. He is not likely to get any better. No, I know of no one who wishes him ill for his philosophical and unpatriotic stands (I thought), when he refused to be included in the draft. He was convicted, served time and fought again. My opinion at the time was he was insincere and a dodger. No more. He did what he did. And he was no better for it.

Frankly, I hope someone gave him a birthday cake today and that he got a chance to stick a finger in it, like Angelo said he surely would do.

‘’The experience of a lifetime, being with him through his good and bad times — in New York, in Zaire, in Manila, in Miami, hey, in Tampa,’’ said Dundee.

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The West Tampa Sandwich Shop is a neat, well-placed restaurant at the apex of Armenia and Henderson avenues in Tampa, that makes it because of its regulars, not tourists.

The Sandwich Shop is undistinguished inside and out, but clean as a hospital kitchen with tables for four and six, solid menu of Southern USA Latin dishes, like bacon, eggs and grits for a top meal breakfast. It is not the Columbia, nor Bern’s here, nor the new Malio’s will be, but perfect for a weekday meeting of Jack Espinosa’s friends at his Rectangular Table.

Jack Espinosa is a full-bearded man who was born in Tampa, educated in Cuba where he became a bilingual standup comedian, wonderful at the ad-lib, strong voiced, without malice but a tough talker on stage. He performed all over the Caribbean, but loves and worked in his native Tampa. He taught school. He became the effective spokesperson for the sheriff’s office in Tampa for years. He was good. The media loved him. He was cooperative, honest, got them answers. A son has become a judge, a matter of great pride to daddy Jack. But, in time, Espinosa retired and has begun a security company. But my, how he loves the public eye, the mike, the media of other days, and an audience.

Now, Jack has his own theater.

It is Tuesday breakfast at The West Tampa Sandwich Shop, though he moves to other spots around town, that can include Pete’s Place, and Iavarone’s Restaurant, and two dozen more. Jack has a limitless capacity and a dictionary of one-liners and acts. He’s fun. He’s good at what he does. Likes the center stage and prepares for it.

This past Tuesday at the Sandwich Shop, he wore overalls beneath a brown jacket, somewhat raggedy, some might say, but not me. He’s worn the coats and ties and the tuxedos long enough.

Manny Huerta is a hair stylist with a limited clientele. He comes to you, if he wants to. Takes his time. He’s good. He is an information source on golf, pro football, the movies, Florida football and Tampa - mostly Ybor City and West Tampa. Huerta has a college degree, but enjoys the freedom of the galloping hair stylist, picking his clients — no walk-ins.

Manny Huerta and Jack Espinosa are friends, good friends, great fans of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and the Gators. Years ago, Espinsosa and son made the trip to Green Bay in a cold time to watch the Bucs upset the Packers up there. Not much for a friend if you are a Bucko follower. They were hooted, snowballed, but happy even if they had to spend Saturday and Saturday night in beautiful downtown Appleton with the reporters and the team.

Huerta admires Espinosa, as do we all. He’s a Tampa product but went to Havana to college, and to hone his stage career, and his Spanish. He did become an expert bilingualist and ad-lib man, and it helped him with his entertaining and then a cop PR career.

Well, we won’t let Jack go quietly. He heads — but does not finance - this Tuesday Breakfast in West Tampa. Manny has been asking me to go. I was slow to go because you had to be there at 5:30 a.m. I gave up getting up early after working on the departed afternoon Tampa Times and the Army in WWII. Manny comes to repair my old grey hair — at least I have plenty of it — every other early week. OK, I said, if he’d pick me up at 5:15 this Tuesday, then cut my hair, fine.

He did. Espinosa was at his table for six, tapping his boot. Manny said Jack can’t sleep.

There is a list, Huerta said, of about 25 on the standing invitation list. No telling who or how many would come. But, you can be sure most would be of old Latin lineage. And they were. We needed two tables in the end. Espinosa was in charge and on stage from the start. He was funny. Huerta, a talker, gave way to the host.

Those there were Al Arango, John R. LaRocca, Phil Chillura, Joe Guardo, Jose Marti, Roland Martino, Huerta and me, who came and went. They expected Charlie Miranda, former city commissioner, but he may be running for office again, and has begun.

The topics, in order of frequency mentioned: The Gators and their national football championship, The Bucs and their lousy season in 2006 compared to the great jolt at New Orleans with a new coach and new team, good black beans and rice, Castro’s illness and anticipated passing, Tampa’s almost out-of-control growth, Maria LaBamba, and repeated funnies by host Espinsosa.

Now, the truth is, nothing to little was accomplished by this Tuesday Breakfast at Jack’s. But, it was a time when old friends got together for café con leche, and eggs and grits, if you wanted. It was a time when they caught up again with each other, shared a new and old story and got to keep Espinosa on his toes.

Might get a call any minute to work a program at The Columbia, or the Cuban Club. And believe me he can handle it, still with style. If he gets rid of those overalls.

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