RICKAROO - The New Mexico Sports Place

Finally, this morning, I finished viewing all eight hours of Ken Burns’ Muhammad Ali documentary. Verdict: I found myself wishing for eight hours more. Burns, as he long since has demonstrated, is a master of the form. I really have no bones to pick; I believe Burns presented and illustrated this most remarkable human being for who he was, warts and all.  I was curious, though, about a couple of things. Laila Ali was totally absent other than one mention of her name. As the only Ali offspring who followed him into the ring, I found that omission strange. Laila’s social media accounts offer no explanation. There appears to have been no falling out between the two; in May, with Stephen A. Smith, she talked about how fond memories of her father drive her to excel and make a difference. Her absence from the documentary in no way harms it, but I just wonder.  I also wonder how and why Burns & Co. hit upon Michael Bentt as their, for lack of a better term, “boxing guy.” Bentt ha...

  In the aftermath of the death of 18-year-old Mexican boxer Jeanette Zacarias Zapata after a fight in Montreal against Canadian Marie Pier Houle, the criticism that’s been leveled at the promoter who made the fight and the commission that approved it is neither unfair nor misplaced. And yet ... you know what we say about hindsight. Had that same matchup been made here in New Mexico, and had I been aware of it as a reporter, I probably wouldn’t have batted an eye. I’m not aware that anyone did so in this instance. Maybe I’ve been involved in boxing for too long, or perhaps with one eye closed. And maybe I’m not alone. Certainly, Zacarias Zapata’s death was both tragic and preventable.  “Better commission could have prevented this from happening in Canada ...” wrote Albuquerque’s Andy Rivera, a boxing writer and a former amateur boxer, on Facebook. “If commissions would truly look at records and quit letting local promoted fighter A have a huge advantage over fighter B thing...

  “My first wife was very immature. At night when I’d be taking a bath, she’d come in and sink all my boats.” — Woody Allen During my 73 years, there is no one in the entertainment world whose work I’ve more admired than that of Woody Allen. Well, unless it was Bill Cosby.  Sure can pick my entertainment idols, can’t I? I chose not to watch the HBO documentary “Allen vs. Farrow,” knowing that what Allen is accused off — sexually molesting his young adopted daughter, Dylan — would neither be proved nor disproved by the viewing. Ms. Farrow and her mother, actress Mia Farrow, will always say it happened. Allen, barring the possibility of a deathbed confession, will always say it did not.  What I’m writing about, then, is the discomfort I feel in my admiration for Allen as a comedian, actor and above all a film maker — and where to place that amidst my uneasiness with him as a human being. And, of course, there’s the question of whether I, or anyone, should view the wo...

 My first Cloris Leachman experience occurred on Christmas Eve, 1962. This wonderful actress, who died this week at age 94, appeared on an episode of the TV series “Stoney Burke.” Leachman played a character named Eunice Stocker, the cousin of a character played by Bruce Dern — a regular on the series that helped launch the careers of Dern, Warren Oates and series star Jack Lord.  Eunice was a tomboyish, not terribly pretty woman who aspired to be a rodeo trick rider but whose lack of glamour was holding her back. Lord’s Stoney, a top-notch saddle bronc rider and a close friend of Dern’s character E.J. Stocker, helped Eunice achieve the necessary makeover. Problem was, Eunice had a massive crush on Stoney that, even after the makeover, was not requited. It seems Stoney only had eyes for pretty trick rider Francie Adams — or, as Eunice scornfully called her, “Fancy pantsy Francie.” How do I remember all this, more than 58 years later? The internet certainly helped. Still, havin...

 I was not then and am not now a Boston Celtics fan, but I always liked Tommy Heinsohn in spite of that. I particularly liked his Fred Flintstone-like delivery as a TV analyst after his playing and coaching days were over. A Heinsohn memory, in the wake of his recent death:  In a game years ago (obviously), Heinsohn was headed toward the basket on a breakaway. Walt Hazzard, the former UCLA Bruin point guard — I don’t remember which NBA team he was playing for at the time — basically tackled Heinsohn to prevent the layup. The two sprawled together under the basket.  Tommy came up hot and landed a picture-perfect right hand to Hazzard’s jaw. I don’t remember for sure, it being so long ago, but I don’t think either player got ejected. It was a different game back then. Afterward, Heinsohn complained to the media about Hazzard’s aggressive play. “Talk about unsportsmanlike,” he said. How sportsmanlike he thought his right hand to the jaw was, he didn’t say. Hazzard had little...

 I can’t say I knew Billy Tubbs, the irascible, inimitable college basketball coach who won 641 games at Lamar, Oklahoma, TCU and Lamar again, who died on Sunday at age 85. But I remember him well. Very well. Among the memories: In January 1997, Tubbs brought his TCU Horned Frogs to the Pit to play New Mexico, at the time a Western Athletic Conference rival. He refused to use Albuquerque’s mile-high altitude as an excuse for a loss that night. In fact, he refused to acknowledge the altitude. “The game was played indoors,” he explained.  Oh, OK.  The following summer, TCU transfer power forward Damion Walker signed with New Mexico. Tubbs was furious, believing UNM had contacted Walker before his release from his scholarship at TCU — a violation, if true, of NCAA rules. Lobos coach Dave Bliss denied any such impropriety. That January, at the end of a UNM blowout with the Lobos approaching the century mark, Tubbs called two timeouts in the final minutes. Both teams had their...

On Monday (May 11), in response to a query from a friend,  I pored through the Albuquerque Journal’s obituary listings for August 2011. I didn’t find what my friend was looking for. I did find an obituary notice for Lillian Cantrell, age 100, who died on Aug. 10 of that year.  Oh my goodness. This had to be the Lillian Cantrell who worked for my family as a housekeeper — the term at the time was “cleaning lady” from roughly 1957-69.  What a very hard life she had.  Lillian lived in a poor section of Albuquerque’s South Valley. She made her living cleaning, doing laundry, etc., for ours and other households. Her husband had deserted her and left her with three children, two of whom had a disability  (I don’t remember exactly what the disability was). Her other son died young, I believe in a car crash. Yet, Lillian was unfailingly cheerful. She loved our first Welsh Terrier, Terry, and got along better than some of us did with our second, Binky, who ha...