Idaho: Breeding ground for lost causes?

The craziest man in NFL football named Tom Cable as the new head coach of the Oakland Raiders.

Welcome to the lost cause club, Tom. It seems Idahoans are the current poster children for high hopes waiting to be dashed. I'm talking to you, Gov. Palin.

Let's face it, Idaho is one of the stepchild states of this country. No respect, no heroes and a bad image that keeps getting worse. You may not know, but when Cable played for the University of Idaho Vandals, he was part of the offensive line blocking for Quarterback Scott Linehan. Like Cable's Raiders predecessor Lane Kiffin, Linehan was fired this week. Linehan's St. Louis Rams aren't as good as the Raiders and both will continue to struggle.

So why is it that Idaho can't get good press? OK, it isn't ALL bad; there are some people who genuinely believe the Republican ticket of McCain-Palin will beat the Obama Changemachine. There are even people I know who are planning to punch a full Republican ticket.

It's not my fault. I grew up in that other stepchild state, Utah. The day Utah turns blue is the day the devil gets to have his scotch on the rocks.

And everybody, including ESPN, loves the Boise State Broncos. As we like to say in Moscow, Boise isn't a state.

If you try to blame this run of bad luck on outgoing senator Larry Craig and his restroom exploits, you are missing the point. Craig isn't the problem. Palin isn't the problem. The Vandal cheerleaders skimpy uniforms aren't the problem. These are just visible symptoms.

So what is it about Idaho that breeds people built for lost causes? Is it North Idaho's "Aryan Nation" background or southern Idaho's identification as nothing more than a bunch of Napoleon Dynamite wanna-bes? (On a side note, I hate that movie. Some things are funny because they are true; some things are so true they just can't be funny.)

Enter Cable, most recently the offensive line coach of the Raiders. His previous stint leading a team was for the Vandals from 2000-03. He went 11-35 in four seasons before being replaced by Nick Holt who was replaced by Dennis Erickson who was replaced by Robb Akey. (For the record, I took a sick joy in watching the UNLV Runnin' Rebels knock Erickson's Arizona St. Sun Devils out of their 15th spot in the rankings.) The longest Cable ever held a coaching job was from 1992-1997 when he was the O-line coach at Cal.

In other words, he's perfect for the Raiders. He's their sixth head coach since they were creamed by the Tampa Bay Buccaneers in Super Bowl XXVII.

But who knows? Maybe Idaho will break out of this slump. Cable could turn the Raiders around (not likely), McCain-Palin could win the White House (please, God, no), the next U.S. Senator from Idaho could be a decent guy (Larry LaRocca, vote now), and standout Vandal linebacker David Vobora (picked dead last in the 2008 NFL draft) might get into a game.

Or, the nation could continue to only be informed of Idaho's lost causes. Sorry, Broncos. You may get a lot of air time, but you'll never win the BCS championship.

The good news is that I know plenty of people either from Idaho or went to UI that are not lost causes. Whether they can reverse the trend or not, only time will tell.

The Juice no longer loose

Since O.J. Simpson's sports memorabilia trial began this week in Las Vegas, now is a good time to revisit the following column. It appeared in The Argonaut exactly one year ago today. Enjoy!

If you could crawl inside O.J. Simpson’s head, would you want to?
Let’s take a little peek inside his brain and maybe figure out what the hell is going on in there. Take a change of underwear. It might get scary.
Yes, you may hold my hand. Remember though, none of this is real.

The first thing you’ll notice is that we don’t have to go through the ear hole of a football helmet. Sorry, Juice, those days are long in the past. Nor must we go through giant hair or a headset. Like his football days, O.J.’s big hair and football analyst days are done.
Once we arrive in the ear canal, we are met with a lifetime of earwax. What did you expect? Every time someone said, “No, O.J., I don’t think it’s a good idea to publish a book about what you would have done if you had killed your former wife,” something had to be blocking the sound waves.

Maybe he was hit in the head once too often. Those 1960s and ‘70s-era helmets weren’t the sophisticated protectors of multi-million dollar heads that NFL players wear today.
After forcing our way through the waxy build-up, we find ourselves in O.J.’s inner reality. We’re met not by his current self, but by his much younger self, sporting the colors of his alma mater USC and holding his Heisman Trophy.
“Hi there, folks,” the young Juice says, flashing a smile that will eventually get him on TV and in movies. “Welcome to O.J.’s, where the fun never stops until you lose your head.”
See, O.J. had a sense of humor even back then.

After entering what looks like a golf course inside a football stadium with a casino on one side and a black, empty space on the other, we gravitate to a gaggle of people gathered around a golf green right on the fifty yard line.
Johnny Cochran is there and so is Mark Fuhrman. Judge Ito is serving drinks out of a golf cart and an older (but far from wiser) O.J. is setting up a putt.
For now, this is a strange kind of heaven, but if O.J. misses this putt, all hell will break loose. Shh.

He taps the ball and rolls toward the cup, looking as if it will plop right in. Then it veers away from the hole and bounces away into the dark part of the stadium.
There are two signs above the burnt out seats: “Do Not Enter” and a replica of the “Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas” sign.
Somehow we’ve managed to traverse many of O.J.’s problems, landing square in the middle of his current quandary.

Sunday, O.J. was arrested and charged with six counts of assault, robbery, burglary and conspiracy in Las Vegas. Here is what is known so far:
O.J. thinks someone jacked him for memorabilia related to his family (not his football career, the one that is o-v-e-r). He entered the room of the supposed holder of the items with a few other men.

According to O.J., he and his buddies regained possession of the items and left the room.
No guns were involved.
Except that a couple guns were found with another man arrested in relation to the crime while at McCarran International Airport.
Things inside O.J.’s head get real fuzzy as we try to sort out this part of his mind.
Perhaps we have entered the worst part of his psyche, the part that battles between his perceived innocence (and let me remind everyone that he was found not guilty of the murders of Nicole Brown Simpson and Ronald Goldman, and not all the facts of this current case have come out, so no one, except maybe O.J., knows whether he is guilty or not), and his thoughts about actually committing crimes.

He did write a book called “If I Did It,” after all.
There isn’t anything here about O.J.’s penchant for road rage, though. He was caught with that one and as for the book, well, he didn’t get to make any money on it.
A bankruptcy judge gave the rights to the Goldman family and they published it.
They re-titled it, too.

“If I Did It: Confessions of the Killer.” Catchy title, don’t you think?
Yes, O.J.’s head is a scary place to be, full of contradictions. On one side, there is sunshine and golf. On the other side there is darkness. O.J. already knows what jail is like, so if he gets a trip to a Nevada State Correctional Facility, it won’t be wholly unfamiliar.
What’s that? You want out of this place? Me, too.