Scott Adamson, Author at Adamsonmedia.com

My happy place

A case can be made that the ‘fan cave” at my house is a monument to failure, and it’s a relatively strong case.

**Scott Adamson’s sports column appears whenever he feels sporty. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl and Instagram @adamsons60**

The minute you walk into the hallway you’ll see a wall full of programs and artifacts from the original North American Soccer League, as well as the American Soccer League.

Step into the main room and there’s an entire side of it devoted to the World Football League and United States Football League, with special emphasis on the Birmingham Americans, Birmingham Vulcans and Birmingham Stallions.

Walk a little further and a World Hockey Association display is the main attraction – starring the Birmingham Bulls.

What do all these leagues and teams have in common?

Well, they’re dead.

They came, they went, and now they’re left to be judged by history.

Depressing stuff, right?

Not to me. Not at all.

In fact, my fan cave is my happy place – the room I retreat to when I want to clear my head and where I churn out many of my columns. I spent years decorating it, and now it serves as my own private sports museum and inspiration tank.

My collection of mostly Magic City sports history provides magic all its own, helping me travel back in time to some of the best times of my life.

When I look at my Americans pennant (and opening game ticket stub and homemade Ams helmet), I don’t dwell on the WFL’s financial disaster – at the time the worst in sports history.

Instead, I think back to July 10, 1974, when a young teenager saw his very first pro football game in person, sitting at Legion Field with his dad on one side and his brother on the other as Birmingham topped Southern Cal, 11-7.

I remember a team that hung 58 points on the Memphis Southmen while one of the loudest crowds I’ve ever been a part of cheered so loudly my ears were ringing when it was all over.

And when the Ams beat the Florida Blazers in the World Bowl, I can still hear myself cheering as I watched the game through the “miracle” of cable television at my brother’s house in Center Point.

If I glance at my Vulcans car tag or Vulcans Booster Club certificate, my first thought isn’t that the league folded 12 weeks into the 1975 season.

It’s joining more than 30,000 people at the “Football Capital of the South” on a scorching July day to watch a controlled scrimmage between the Vulcans and Southmen. That was the game that featured the debut of the WFL’s most famous players – Larry Csonka, Jim Kiick and Paul Warfield.

The USFL died by its own hand when it left a spring schedule in an effort to compete with the NFL in the fall, but it lives on when I look at the Joe Cribbs’ game-used Stallions jersey I have and my three custom-made player figurines.

And that ticket stub from the 1985 Eastern Conference final against the Baltimore Stars at Legion Field might’ve been Birmingham’s last game in the USFL, but it was also a clash that helped me realize these were great teams that could’ve held their own in football’s biggest league.

I guess I should tell you that admiring my Birmingham Barracudas display – featuring a replica jersey, cap, season press pass and Legion Field parking pass – does still sting a little.

The Canadian Football League is my favorite brand of tackle football, and knowing it plays on while the Cudas played out after a one-and-done season saddens me.

But, you know the old saying: “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.”

Hey, I got to sit in the press box and watch CFL Hall of Famers Matt Dunigan and Anthony Calvillo duke it out in the first CFL game ever played in Birmingham. That’s unforgettable.

There are also physical reminders of the Birmingham Fire (World League of American Football), Birmingham Steeldogs (Arena football 2), Birmingham Thunderbolts (XFL) and Birmingham Iron (Alliance of American Football), and even a good deal of gridiron memorabilia that has nothing to do with Birmingham at all – it’s just stuff I collected and enjoy.

And of course my shrine to the Bulls isn’t merely a tribute to the WHA and stars such as Frank Mahovlich and Mark Napier, but a reminder of when hockey became my favorite sport.

Going to the Birmingham-Jefferson Civic Center Coliseum and rooting for the Bulls – even though they usually sat near the bottom of the WHA standings – made for some of the best times I ever had.

So sure, you can visit my fan cave and think it’s a room full of bittersweet memories and broken dreams. I won’t argue with you because in a technical sense, you’re right.

For me, though, it’s far more sweet than bitter. It represents days gone by, but they’re days that – in my mind – will last as long as I live.

Meet my neighbors

I’m a person who tends to forget names quickly, especially when I’m first introduced to someone. I think I’m so concerned with getting my name right I simply lose focus, and this issue has plagued me for much of my life.

**Scott Adamson’s humor column appears whenever he has a funny feeling. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl and Instagram @adamsons60**

What I can remember, however, are nicknames – especially those I give some of the neighbors I frequently encounter during my morning walks.

For the most part these are not folks that I actually know in the sense that we’re close friends and hang out. Basically I just wave at them and say things like, “Looks like it’s gonna be a warm one today with highs in the mid-80s and light winds blowing east-southeast at five miles per hour,” “Man, I wish Batman was real,” or “I can’t wait for Halloween because I’m dressing as a werewolf again this year.”

Our conversations are neither long nor deep, which is just the way I like them.

But as a point of reference I’ve decided to assign many of them a sobriquet. Here are a few that stand out:

CHURCH LADY

I see this woman almost every day. Her nickname stems from the hairstyle she sports, which is reminiscent of Dana Carvey’s Church Lady from “Saturday Night Live.”

She’s stands about 5-2 and weighs 75 pounds and I’m guessing she’s between the age of 130 and 165. But she can move – she doesn’t so much walk as she glides.

One thing I’ve noticed is she’s always carrying what looks to be a hurley (hurling stick), which makes me wonder if perhaps she’s from Ireland and once played the game.

Probably, though, it’s just a stick she uses to ward off suitors, coyotes and the kinds of people you see in Gatlinburg who try to get you to listen to a seminar about condos.

THE LONE RANGER

OK, this is the one neighbor’s name I can remember because when he introduced himself it immediately rang a bell. It’s John Reid. John Reid, as you know, was the Lone Ranger’s true identity, and he teamed up with Tonto to fight outlaws in the Old West.

This John Reid, however, doesn’t fight outlaws – at least as far as I know. I’m pretty sure he works construction.

Due to the COVID-19 global pandemic he does wear a mask, though, so that’s pretty cool.

Sadly, his dog is not named Silver, which is bitterly disappointing to me.

NAPOLEON DYNAMITE AND NAPOLEON DYNAMATE

This couple lives around the corner. The guy not only has hair and eyeglasses identical to Jon Heder’s “Napoleon Dynamite” character, but he also walks like him and often has a vacant expression. So many times I’ve wanted to yell, “Vote for Pedro!” but I don’t because I’m sure he gets that a lot.

As for his wife/girlfriend/partner/roommate, she looks normal. I just call her Napoleon Dynamate because I think it’s funny.

BUTT PATTER

There is a friendly woman on our street who pats her boyfriend on the butt whenever he comes out of their house. Sometimes they’ll walk together toward the street, turn around and look back at their house, and she’ll pat his butt then.

Once she was cutting grass and he was putting down mulch, and she patted his butt while his butt was aimed skyward.

Point being, if the dude is outside and his butt is within reach, Butt Patter is gonna pat it.

I can only imagine what the man’s butt endures inside the house.

ON GOLDEN POND DOG WALKER

This woman looks like Henry Fonda in his “On Golden Pond” role, right down to the fishing bucket hat and wire-rimmed glasses. Each time she sees me walking Charlie, our Sheltie, she screams, “Is your dog friendly?”

I always tell her that Charlie is old and nervous – much like myself – and would rather keep his distance (also much like myself). So naturally, she trots over with her dog, who tries to lick Charlie’s bits and pieces.

Needless to say, these encounters are awkward.

THE AMAZING COLOSSAL MAN

This dude is gigantic – tall, heavy – just mountainous. I imagine him eating entire herds of cattle, drinking from a water tank and then when he’s done, stomping his way through the city Godzilla-style.

Of course when I see him out walking I don’t call him the Amazing Colossal Man. I address him as “sir” and try to make as little eye contact as possible.

MANLEY STUD AND PRECIOUS MUFFIN

This young couple can often be seen jogging down our street. Manley strikes me as someone who works out at the gym seven days a week, holds an important job in high finance, drinks nothing but microbrews and calls other males “Bro.”

Precious wears designer outfits while running, never sweats, has blinding white Britney Spears teeth and has probably played Elle in a community theater production of “Legally Blonde.”

Based on our brief interactions they’re nice people but I hate them both.

THAT ASSHOLE

It’s just what I call this one guy because, well, he’s that asshole.

Goodbye, XFL

When billionaire rasslin’ tycoon Vince McMahon decided to reboot the XFL, he dumped enough of his own money into the league that it could last three years without taking in any other cash.

There’s a big difference, however, between “could last” and “would last.”

The COVID-19 global pandemic forced the league to join all other sports entities across the world and suspend play in March. Yet while the economic devastation has already taken its toll on the likes of the NBA, NHL and Major League Baseball, those leagues have enough long-term stability and capital to survive.

Obviously, that’s not the case for the XFL.

Last Friday the league announced that it was laying off all employees with no plans to return in 2021, and then on Monday it filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy. Debts and assets ranging from $10 million to $50 million were listed in the filing, and seven of the XFL’s eight head coaches were among the top creditors.

So how did McMahon go from having plenty of disposable income to being forced to dispose of his second attempt at the XFL?

According to Dave Meltzer of Wrestling Observer Radio, McMahon was prepared to lose $375 million during the first three years of the XFL revival. After that, he expected to secure TV deals totaling $125 million annually which – eventually – would help him recoup his losses. Ultimately, of course, the goal was to see the XFL finish each year in the black and become a staple of the spring sports scene.

But back in January Bloomberg reported that McMahon’s primary business, World Wrestling Entertainment, lost more than $1 billion in market value following a corporate shakeup, so suddenly the XFL went from something of a vanity project for McMahon to a venture much more important to his bottom line.

Then came the pandemic.

XFL employees were paid up through what would’ve been the final week of the 10-game schedule. But while they were supposed to be on the payroll at least through playoffs that never came, the axe fell on Good Friday. McMahon had lost millions more dollars, and I’m guessing he’s unwilling to lose any more on offseason football.

Thus will be the conundrum of any person or group going forward who wants to create what has yet to be created – an alternative American football league with staying power. Simply put, you have to be willing and able to lose millions and millions of dollars for who knows how many years on the slim hope that eventually you might – might – make a profit.

Back when the new XFL kicked off I was asked how long I thought the league would last. I predicted a two-year run, figuring the novelty would wear off by then and McMahon would decide to cut his losses. Now we’ll never know, but had the pandemic not hit I still think that would’ve been the case.

With the notable exception of St. Louis, in-house fan support was starting to dip and TV ratings were sliding at the midway point of the league. If the season played out I think that trend would’ve continued (although not to the degree that it would cause McMahon to bail on it like he did the XFL’s one-and-done 2001 iteration).

But when the XFL returned in 2021, it would’ve done so without that new car smell. Plus, some of the stars established in its inaugural season would’ve moved on to the NFL, and each team would basically be starting from scratch again.

TV viewership for all programing tends to drop in the spring, so I find it difficult to believe the broadcast revenue McMahon was hoping for would ever materialize. I’m not confident the number of hardcore fans (like me) needed to turn a gap league into a box office success are there, either.

None of this is a criticism of the product itself; with the notable exception of the United States Football League, I think this was far and away the best spring circuit to come along. It had cool rules, good players and coaches, and overall it was minor league football done extremely well. Ultimately, though, it was not a moneymaker. No non-NFL pro football organization since the American Football League has turned a profit.

And regardless of how badly McMahon or anyone else wants a new football venture to succeed, I can’t imagine they’d be willing to endlessly lose money to keep one afloat.

COVID-19 has wreaked havoc on the economy, and I think it’ll be a long, long while before an entrepreneur gives spring pro football another try. But, it will happen eventually.

And when it does it’ll join the USFL, World League of American Football, NFL Europe, XFL 2001, the Alliance of American Football and XFL 2020 as good ideas that will never make enough dollars to make enough business sense.