Category: History and More

Quick … define “imparnumerophobia.”

In case you don’t know (and why would you?), it’s the fear of odd numbers.

I can’t say I actually suffer from imparnumerophobia – I’ve seen a lot of odd numbers in my day, and none have ever particularly scared me – but they bother me when it comes to sports leagues.

As a general rule, I think all athletic confederations should have an even number of teams and, ideally, at least 10.

I’ve given the nine-member Canadian Football League a pass because that was its original number in 1958, and because I’m a CFL apologist.

But a 10-team CFL?

I could go for that.

And it looks like maybe Halifax will go for that, too.

It doesn’t have a team or a stadium yet, but Maritime Football Limited Partnership started a season ticket drive last week to determine interest in a Nova Scotia-based CFL team.

A press conference to kickstart it all, held on November 7 at Saint Mary’s University in Halifax, featured CFL Commissioner Randy Ambrosie and members of the group making the push.

“I think it’s the unfinished piece of business that has been on the hearts and minds of Canadian football fans for decades,” Ambrosie said.

For someone who has never set foot on Canadian soil (but who hopes to do so sooner than later), I still feel like I have a tangible connection to the CFL.

Maybe it’s because I’ve followed it for 40 years, and was even able to claim I lived in a CFL city – Birmingham – for one season in 1995.

Whatever the reason, I care deeply about the league. And when you care about something, you want to see it do more than survive … you want it to thrive.

I think adding Halifax to the mix would do just that and bolster the strength of the entire league.

“We do know that this is a great sports market,” Anthony LeBlanc of Maritime Football Limited Partnership said. “Everyone knows that this is a great place to live, work and play, and the idea of having a franchise here is something I know is important to everybody.”

A trademark for “Atlantic Schooners” has already been registered, but Admirals, Convoy and Storm is on the short list provided by the potential ownership group. Nothing is set in stone, and LeBlanc said those who put down $50 deposits on season tickets will have a chance to name the team, which will be announced on Friday.

“This is a big day for Halifax and Atlantic Canada,” LeBlanc said. “It’s a day football fans have been waiting for and an important step towards bringing another professional sports team to this region.”

Now if Halifax can just get a team.

On October 30, the Halifax Regional Council voted unanimously to study the feasibility of a 24,000-seat stadium, a decision that came after Halifax Regional Municipality revealed that the CFL was expected to grant the area a conditional franchise.

Cost of the stadium is reported to be in the $190 million range, and council members want it funded through reallocated funds from property taxes.

They’ve made it quite clear the municipality will nix any plans to operate and maintain the stadium itself.

So, nothing is promised.

Still, things look promising.

There is even hope that a team could be playing by 2020, which would assuage my disdain for odd numbers and give the CFL an even 10.

I assume a balanced schedule would be a byproduct of two five-team divisions, with each team playing every other team twice across an 18-game regular season.

“As Canada’s national league, the CFL aspires to have a presence from coast to coast,” Ambrosie said. “Our players want to play in the region, and our fans tell us they want the league to expand east. We’re happy to see fan excitement growing for an Atlantic franchise.”

I’ll bet those who suffer from imparnumerophobia are happy, too.

The UAB football team made history in Saturday night’s 26-23 overtime victory over Southern Miss at Legion Field – a result that gives the Blazers a 9-1 overall record, 7-0 mark in Conference USA and – here’s the biggie – a West Division title.

No matter what happens at College Station this coming Saturday or the following weekend in Murfreesboro, the Blazers will play for the league championship on December 1. There’s plenty of credit to go around, from the players who stuck it out through the death and resurrection of the program to Coach Bill Clark and his staff.

But moments after Spencer Brown scored the game-winning touchdown on a 17-yard dash, the first man I thought of was Gene Bartow.

The father of UAB athletics – who passed away in 2012 – would’ve been so proud to see the program he built take such a major step forward.

I was a nervous wreck the first time I ever got a sit-down interview with him.

I was a twentysomething nobody who was a newbie working for the UAB student newspaper, The Kaleidoscope, and he was … Gene Bartow.

A Final Four trip with Memphis, a Final Four trip with UCLA – the man that followed John Wooden at UCLA followed an uncharted path to UAB, starting an athletic program from nothing.

So there I was, making intermittent eye contact with one of the greatest college basketball coaches of all time, stammering my way through an interview about the Blazers’ upcoming roundball season.

He was gracious and sincere because that’s the man he was, and he answered all my questions thoughtfully – even the stupid ones.

Over the next couple of years I spent a lot more time in his office – and got a lot more comfortable talking to him. We developed the type of relationship where he would tell me things “off the record.”

When he did, he knew he could trust me keep them that way. Shoot, there are some of our discussions I’ll take to my grave. Nothing nefarious, of course … he wasn’t called “Clean Gene” for nothing. But it was pretty cool to hear insider stuff from a man who decided I was worthy of his trust.

That being said, we spent a lot of time during a couple of summers talking about football.

Not football in general, but UAB football in particular. The school didn’t have a team and he thought it should.

I was thrilled he felt that way and, frankly, a little stunned.

I just assumed when Bartow came to Birmingham his goal was to make UAB a “basketball school” and UAB basketball a national force.

He did both, taking the team to the Sweet 16 in just its third year of existence and Elite 8 in its fourth.

But he was also an athletic director, and he wanted every team wearing the green and gold to succeed.

As an AD in the Deep South, he knew football was key to the overall success of a department.

“I really think we need it, Scott,” he’d say. “What do you think?”

Hey, Bartow had already worked a basketball miracle at my school. If he thought something else was needed athletics-wise, who was I to argue?

Not that I would have, anyway … I won’t say I was a step ahead of him, but I had imagined the possibility of UAB football from the moment I stepped on campus in 1979.

While UAB played in the Sun Belt Conference back in the day, I envisioned them moving to the Metro Conference. The Sun Belt was a quality hoops league during its heyday, but the Metro featured the likes of Louisville, Florida State, Virginia Tech, Memphis State, Tulane, Cincinnati and Saint Louis.

Most of those teams played Division 1-A football, and in my fantasy world, UAB would field a team, move to the Metro and we’d all live (and play) happily ever after, going to New Year’s day bowls and winning conference championships.

Of course it wasn’t long before I learned that the University of Alabama system – of which UAB is a part – wasn’t interested in having more than one football team.

The Board of Trustees’ opinion of the Blazers blazing a trail on the gridiron wasn’t so much “No!” as it was, “Oh, hell no!”

(See December 2, 2014, for details).

Bartow kept his thoughts on football under wraps in the early days, but he never gave up on the idea. And I wrote my share of columns promoting the concept, all of which made him smile.

Of course I knew if football ever happened, it’d be long after I graduated.

Club football was born in 1989, and over the next decade it would go through an evolution that took it to Division III, Division 1-AA and ultimately what we now call the Football Bowl Subdivision.

The 1996 season was Bartow’s last as Blazer basketball coach, although he did stay on until 2000 as AD.

I had moved on to daily newspaper work by 1987, and that would only occasionally lead me back to UAB. When it did, though, I’d always seek out Bartow, and he’d always make time for me.

After football had been established, most of our conversations centered on hoops. Still, there was one time – I think it was in the late 1990s – when he took me to lunch and we reminisced about the push for football that took root in the early 1980s.

“Becoming a big-time football program will be a hard road,” he said. “But we’ll get there.”

As usual, Coach Bartow was right.

We did.

You know how, when people get older, they tend to repeat the same stories over and over again?

That applies to chronologically advanced sportswriters, too.

Only difference is, we tend to write the same stories over and over again – or at least relive them.

Since it’s November 8 – the anniversary of one of my favorite tales – it seems as good a time as any to hit “replay.”

Here goes:

Like a lot of guys, I have a “fan cave” at my house.

Walk into the tiny converted attic room and you’ll find memorabilia from the World Football League, the World Hockey Association, United States Football League, XFL – to me they are remnants of days gone by as well as good old days.

One of my most prized possessions is a hockey puck commemorating the 1980 United States Olympic Hockey Team’s game against the Birmingham Bulls of the Central Hockey League. The other is a team photo of the squad autographed by coach Herb Brooks.

The “Miracle On Ice” took place on February 22, 1980, and if you’re an American hockey fan old enough to remember it, you most certainly do.

I saw that team on Nov. 8, 1979, when they visited Birmingham, Ala., to play the local minor league club in an exhibition at the Birmingham-Jefferson Civic Center Coliseum.

Birmingham, which was not part of the WHA’s limited merger with the NHL a year earlier, had resurfaced in the CHL, keeping the “Bulls” nickname but seeing its level of play take a dip. But a Triple A-type league offered just the kind of tune-ups the young U.S. squad needed.

Each team in the CHL played the Olympians that season, with the games actually counting in the league standings.

Birmingham lost to Brooks’ charges, 5-2, in Minneapolis on Nov. 4, and four days later they faced off again in the Magic City. The crowd was announced at 3,696, and pucks were handed out to those in attendance as a way to celebrate and commemorate the occasion.

A little over three months later that puck would be like gold to me when the Olympians became sports icons.

You know the story.

When the Winter Games came to Lake Placid, N.Y., little was expected out of the U.S. in hockey, especially since its roster was made up of a bunch of kids. The medals would likely be divided up among powerhouse teams fielded by the Soviet Union, Finland and Canada, and the prospects of the Americans advancing beyond pool play seemed absurd.

Just days before the Games began, the U.S. was hammered by the Russians, 10-3, at Madison Square Garden. Yet when it was medal time in New York State, goalie Jim Craig turned away 36 shots by “The Red Army” to help the hosts shock the greatest hockey team in the world, 4-3.

For many it was a political victory as well as a sporting one because of the Cold War. I was acutely aware of the “more than a game” overtones, but frankly I was just thrilled to see guys my age pull off a feat that seemed impossible.

Phil Verchota scored three times in the Games and added two assists, while Rob McClanahan had five goals and three assists in seven matches. I bring their names up because they were the stars of the United States’ 6-4 victory over the Bulls.

Often lost in the euphoria of the victory over the Soviets is the Gold Medal match against Finland, which took place on Feb. 24, 1980.

Heading into the final period the United States trailed 2-1. But the Americans scored three unanswered goals in the third period in a too-good-to-be-true finish, claiming a 4-2 conquest and putting the final touches on one of the most unlikely sports stories ever written.

I sure am glad I decided to keep that old puck – even if it does cause me to repeat myself.