THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, December 4, 1994 TAG: 9412040183
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C15 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BOB MOLINARO
LENGTH: Medium: 72 lines
Once, junk sports knew their place.
That place was ABC's ``Wide World of Sports.'' It was there, in the '60s, that most of us were introduced to the demolition derby from Islip, N.Y., and cliff diving from Acapulco.
It was crazy, bizarre. Neat. It was junk, and we recognized it for what it was, a departure from the meat and potatoes of football, baseball and basketball.
Today, I wonder if some people who call themselves sports fans recognize junk food when they partake of it. Some of the silliest stuff is being served up as genuine sport. Little by little, it is working its way into the mainstream and demanding that we take it seriously.
Have you heard about synchronized diving?
Synchronized diving is first cousin to synchronized swimming. We all know how much excitement synchronized swimming has created around the world.
Synchronized diving was invented about five minutes ago by people who apparently have too much chlorine in their diets. But this spring, it will be included in our national diving championships, and in two major international meets. Which probably means we will never be rid of it.
On the other end of the spectrum, we are being offered NASCAR pickup truck racing.
Never heard of it? You will. February marks the start of a 19-race circuit for full-sized, pick-'em-ups with V-8 engines. Shotgun racks optional.
Suddenly, while nobody was paying attention, two new, uh, sports appeared on the scene.
And what a scene it is.
Two decades ago, the biggest blight on the television sports landscape were those pathetic, pre-packaged Superstar contests. Remember when heavyweight boxer Joe Frazier nearly drowned in the swimming competition, leading people to believe he had dived into the pool with his championship belt on? Howard Cosell almost lost his toupee over that.
Let's not forget, either, the Battle of the NFL Cheerleaders. Or wrist wrestling from Petaluma, Calif.
Nonsense is not new. But these spectacles are memorable for the levity they produced. Now, junk sports are not only appearing all around us, they are attempting to take on a respectability no one could have imagined a few years ago.
The proliferation of this sort of dubious entertainment probably is not a sign of America's mental erosion (though I'm not completely convinced).
It is probably only a result of the expansion of cable TV.
ESPN needs to fill up the hours, days and weeks between commercials. Because it can't be choosy, it is susceptible to harebrained programming ideas.
This explains Joe Theismann. But what can we make of downhill slalom bicycle races? Or log cutting competitions?
And what of Monster truck and tractor rallies, roller hockey, Frisbee throwing, funny car races, water skiing, or female aerobic tournaments?
They are to sports what Tony Danza is to sitcoms. But unlike pro wrassling, they do not have a sense of humor.
Put something on television - showcase it - and people will bite. In the last year or two, beach volleyball has gained a following along the lines of Arena Football, another made-for-TV scheme aimed at shut-ins and prison inmates.
Junk sports have wormed their way into the American psyche. Consider the popularity of those gonzo beer commercials in which incompatible activities - ice hockey played by beauty contestants; bass bowling - are combined with comic effect.
The commercials foretell a time when relentlessly peppy women aerobicize in the back of a full-sized pickup, which is driven off a cliff in Acapulco.
I bet TV would buy it. I bet a lot of people would. by CNB