Sure, they’re the supposed bane of coaches, but where would football be without quarterback controversies? What would there be to write, argue, ponder, speculate and dream about mid-week? What would be the sense of having a backup quarterback if at least half the fans of a team weren’t convinced that the guy was better than the starter?

Oldtimers will recall when there was actually a cult in town that thought Gary Cuozzo should be given the call over Johnny what’shisname.

Several years ago down at Navy, then-coach George Welsh asked the assembled scribes, “How come you guys never ask me who’s starting at left guard?” OK, George, who’s starting at left guard? “I don’t know, I’ll get back to you,” he answered. It would be cruel to suggest the coach didn’t know the kid’s name.

Come to think of it, why do pro teams even employ a standard T-formation quarterback these days? The T was formulated back in the late ’30s and early ’40s (probably by coach Don Faurot at Missouri), and the original intent was for the purpose of deception, trickery, ball handling, all sorts of nasty intentions.

But when is the last time you saw any real deception from an NFL quarterback? Most of them don’t even fake anymore. They turn around and either give the ball to the one running back at their disposal or they don’t. Gadzooks, what legerdemain. 

Place a guy under center, and as he flees with the snap, unless he has eyes in the back of his helmet, he loses sight of what’s happening on the field. Doesn’t make much sense, does it? Better to stand back there, upright, viewing from sideline to sideline. And why not put a guy back there with him either to run the ball or block? And maybe another guy off to the side either to go out for a pass or flash by to run or fake a run.

The possibilities appear to be endless, especially with a fourth backfield man to do with what you will. Of course, all this would be pretty wasteful if a team could come up with a quarterback the likes of, say, Eddie Crowder, an old Oklahoma sleight-of-hand magician. When the Sooners were in their heyday in the ’50s, you could give the opposition four guesses as to which running back had the ball, and they would still be wrong. Max Boydston did, and he’d be seen entering the end zone. 

Shotgun, single-wing, Notre Dame box, direct snap -- take your pick, just let’s get rid of the T unless we can find a guy who can run it the way it was originally intended.

***

While on the subject of controversies, where would several Olympic sports be if we didn’t have stupid, subjective scoring and hard-to-digest rules and interpretations to scream about while explaining to innocent little waifs the importance of all this overblown nationalism?

If you think there was a series of mind-boggling decisions during the gymnastics competition during the recently concluded Olympic Games in Beijing, think back to the stuff that went on in figure skating going all the way back to the days of Sonia Henie.

We saw it right here a few years back when the U.S. Nationals were held at the perhaps soon to be lamented Civic Center bus stop on Baltimore Street. The Nationals competition end up producing the team we ultimately send to the Winter Olympics.

This goes back to the days before Tonya Harding began hanging around with guys who carried tire irons in their back pockets, and she put on a marvelous long program to obviously win the gold medal. Pig’s eye. The kid didn’t even win one of the three spots on the team headed for the big show. 

Here’s something you might not have thought about when it comes to judging in Olympic gymnastics. While it’s true a judge cannot be on a panel passing judgment on an athlete from his or her country, he can sit there and do a number on teams or individuals in the race for honors against his country. I kept very close tabs a couple of nights in a row on a Japanese judge who repeatedly did a number on American competitors Peter Vidmar, Bart Connor, Tim Daggett, Mitch Gaylord, Tim Johnson and Jim Hartung at Pauley Pavilion in Los Angeles in 1984. This gang won the team title anyway.

I told this to Connor during a promotional appearance in Baltimore a few years later, and he said, “Oh yeah, that’s been going on for years.”

The best faulty judgment of all time, however, occurred in prehistoric times (1960, Rome) in the 100-meter freestyle. Lance Larson (USA) and John Devitt (Australia) finished in what appeared to be a dead heat, but Lawson must have thought he lost because he congratulated Devitt and left the pool area.

They used placing judges in those days, and two of three judges favored Devitt. But two of three judges picking second had Devitt finishing runner-up. Timing judges caught Lawson in 55.1, Devitt in 55.2. But the chief judge awarded the race to Devitt despite the fact that he had the second best time. The result stands despite years of protest.

Issue 3.35: August 28, 2008