CLOSE
Original image

Sports Illustrated's Predictions for the Future of Sports (in 1991)

Original image

"I am here to tell you that I am pretty pleased with life in the 21st century."

Those are the words of "Ulysses S. Spectator," the fictional 50-year-old postman who serves as the narrator for "2001: A Fan's World," a Sports Illustrated cover story written by William Oscar Johnson. The piece, which was published in 1991, predicts what the future of watching sports will be like. For the fan, the future was good.

Starting with New Year's Day college bowl games, the article depicts the year 2001 through the prism of sports viewership while going on a few interesting detours. For example, take this early entry:

The ozone layer is a bit more depleted and the resulting greenhouse warmth makes winter pretty nice in Duluth. It is New Year's Day, and the temperature is 50°. Very pleasant. However, I do miss that cozy-cocoon sensation I have experienced on so many New Year's Days past as I sat snug in front of my TV, watching hour after hour of college bowl games, while bone-freezing winds whipped off the ice pack on Lake Superior.

What will the rest of the future look like, sports fans? Let's go to 2001 via 1991 to find out.

The Future of Money in Sports

According to SI, the future of the sports world's economy rests on one prediction: The NBA, NFL, MLB, and NCAA will break from the networks and start their own viewing services, thus forever severing sports and standard TV. While each league (and even some teams) has its own network nowadays, they are all still under the sovereignty of satellite or cable providers. This glimpse of the future also fails to predict the rise of ESPN, a prophecy that Sports Illustrated would have found useful.

In the future, SI says, every game in every league becomes a pay-per-view event, subsidized by advertising and taxed to the point that it punishes the players and team owners.

This development is celebrated in the piece, which is absolutely dripping with contempt for professional athletes. Many of the predictions can be construed as slightly tongue-in-cheek, but the vitriol reserved for athletes seems to be entirely genuine. "We were already appalled by the unvarnished greed exhibited by so many of the leading lights of our sports establishment," Ulysses says. "And we were even more disgusted by the thought that the more we paid for sports, the more these louts and ingrates would profit. We still loved our games, but we despised the greed of the people who played and ran them."

The narrator then describes how the high taxation of PPV earnings and the capping of player salaries directly leads to funding for AIDS and cancer research. This utopian development is all thanks to an ingenious and thoughtful plan hatched by President Dan Quayle.

Future Technology for Watching Sports

In 2001, everyone owns a Home Control Truck (HCT), a "relatively inexpensive ($1,250)" setup that allows viewers to "call up pictures, sound, and instant replays as network directors of old once did in their control trucks." Not a bad prediction, as many league or network websites offer dedicated player cams and other views to augment the TV-watching experience nowadays.

"My HCT system," Ulysses says, "is fairly typical for someone with my income." As a postman, his job is completely unaffected by email because, in this version of the future, email does not exist. The HCT sort of acts as the Internet, but the only active role the user takes is when he or she bets on sporting events or pays taxes (which are beamed "directly to the IRS satellite"). Sports betting is legalized in "all 52 states," and funds from the "Robo-Bookie" are "earmarked only for the most worthy causes, such as elder care, abused children and world hunger."

An HCT system "includes a wall of 16 small TV monitors, plus my own director's microphone, tucked behind one of the monitors, and a console to select whatever pictures and sounds I want to appear on my central eight-foot, high-definition TV screen, known as the Big Eye." This seems to be heavily influenced by the "parlor walls" from Fahrenheit 451, although here, like the earlier description of global warming, it is presented as a pleasant development.

The article is on the right track with something it calls "VEM" (Very Exciting Moment). "A sudden crowd roar from one of the games will instantly superimpose a message on Big Eye notifying me that a VEM has occurred. The message will then indicate how I can call up the moment." This sounds a bit like Twitter collectively finding out about an exciting event — just search #LeaguePassAlert during the NBA season for an example. Ulysses continues, "I can also order up my own choice of specific VEMs from any game — such as my favorites: ADMB (All Dixieland Marching Bands) and CIPBM (Cheerleaders in Particularly Brief Miniskirts)." VEM revolutionizes the Male Gaze.

The NFL of the Future

Expansion has resulted in a 20-game season, something not too absurd given the league's stated desire to increase to 18 games. Future NFL has 40 teams, including an "Over There Conference" comprised of squads from London, Paris, Berlin, Tehran, Johannesburg, Bombay, Djakarta, Sydney, Auckland, and Mexico City. In reality, the NFL isn't there yet, but they do make the Jacksonville Jaguars play a game in England every year. We're close.

In this future, various premium packages are available to viewers, including one that sounds like the Red Zone channel. Another package sounds like HBO's Hard Knocks: "There is the All-Day Sunday package, which costs $25 and, via TV, allows you to be with your favorite team from the moment it gathers for breakfast at its motel until it leaves the stadium that night after the game."

SI misses the mark, however, with "Common Huddle," a $600 service that allows fans at home to vote for what play their favorite team should execute mid-game. "There is no greater video thrill than the sensation of watching the Vikes go for a crucial first down — or even score a winning TD (it happened to me once) — on the exact play I called!" Alternate Future Richard Nixon would surely subscribe and call in plays from his titanium spider exoskeleton.

Most intriguing, though, is the "TSQ" (Total Steroids Quotient), which "limits a 50-man team to no more than 25 players who test positive for steroids at any one time during the season." Of course, this would be a massive increase in severity from the NFL's current steroid policy — science-fiction, indeed.

The NBA of the Future

Perhaps prisoners of the Jordan moment of the early '90s, SI says that, in 2001, basketball is "the global game...and is more popular than soccer ever was." (This is the only time soccer is mentioned in the piece.) Basketball's real-life international growth is pretty formidable, but they missed the mark just a bit here. Not much more is said about the NBA, beyond the fact that, in 2001, the season is year-round and the playoffs last three months (not too absurd given the current format of four consecutive seven-game series).

Like the NFL's Total Steroid Quotient, the NBA is predicted to adopt a "TTQ" (Total Tallness Quotient) to limit the cumulative height of each squad. Fun.

Oh, and in 2001, Michael Jordan regrows his hair and still plays for the Bulls (who wear yellow):

Baseball in the Future

Opening day takes place at the "vast, fishbowl-shaped stadium of the world champion Florida Marlins" (pretty close). Later in the year, the Pirates sweep the Royals in 11 games in the World Series (it's now a best-of-21 format), but barely anyone watches this small market showdown. Apparently SI felt that an NFL team in Tehran was more realistic than municipal growth in Pittsburgh and Kansas City.

The NHL of the Future

There is no mention of the NHL in the future.

The NCAA of the Future

The NCAA is the one sporting institution that should change more than any other, and we're not talking about a college football playoff (which is something SI correctly predicts). In "2001: A Fan's World," the NCAA struggles financially because they are forced to pay the players:

"The big money crunch for the NCAA came after the Supreme Court ruled in 1997 that colleges were guilty of participating in a form of discrimination bordering on slavery as long as they pretended to require varsity athletes to attend class and did not pay them openly for their participation in sports. Thus, all college players are now given their paychecks in a public ceremony after each game." 

Because of this, they have to rely more on corporate sponsorship. "The upfront player payrolls added such a load to athletic department budgets that the NCAA had to recruit corporate sponsors to purchase the athletic departments outright. Once owned by a corporation, everything in college sport became available as prime advertising space for sponsors' products."

The only thing protecting the sanctity of the Beef 'O' Brady's Bowl and the Tostitos Fiesta Bowl has been the refusal to pay the people who play in it.

This is not the world President Quayle promised us. Take me back to 1991.

Original image
retro-wrestling, eBay
arrow
Pop Culture
The Time a Wrestling Fan Tried to Shoot Bobby Heenan in the Ring
Original image
retro-wrestling, eBay

For a man who didn't wrestle much, Bobby “The Brain” Heenan wound up becoming more famous than a lot of the men flexing in the squared circle. The onscreen manager of several notable grapplers, including André the Giant and “Ravishing” Rick Rude, Heenan died on Sunday at the age of 73. His passing has led to several tributes recalling his memorable moments, from dressing up in a weasel suit to hosting a short-lived talk show on TNT.

While Heenan’s “heel” persona was considered great entertainment, there was a night back in 1975 when he did his job a little too well. As a result, an irate fan tried to assassinate him in the ring.

According to the Chicago Tribune, Heenan was appearing at the International Amphitheater in Chicago as part of the now-defunct AWA wrestling promotion when his performance began to grate on the nerves of an unnamed attendee seated on the floor. Eyewitnesses described the man as friendly up until wrestlers Verne Gagne and Nick Bockwinkel started their bout with Heenan at ringside in Bockwinkel’s corner.

“Get Heenan out of there,” the fan screamed, possibly concerned his character would interfere in a fair contest. Heenan, known as “Pretty Boy” at the time, began to distract the referee, awarding an advantage to his wrestler. When the official began waving his arms to signal Heenan to stop interrupting, the fan apparently took it as the match being over and awarded in Bockwinkel’s favor. He drew a gun and began firing.

The man got off two shots, hitting three bystanders with one bullet and two more with the other before running out of the arena. (No fatalities were reported.) Security swarmed the scene, getting medical attention for the injured and escorting both Heenan and the wrestlers to the back.

According to Heenan, the shooter was never identified by anyone, and he was brazen enough to continue attending wrestling cards at the arena. ("Chicago really took that 'no snitching' thing to heart back then," according to Uproxx.)

Heenan went on to spend another 30 years in the business getting yelled at and hit with chairs, but was never again forced to dodge a bullet.

Original image
Courtesy of Dave Drason Byrzynski
arrow
History
Hans Schmidt, the "Nazi" Wrestler Who Incited Riots
Original image
Courtesy of Dave Drason Byrzynski

Waiting inside the locker room of the Pioneer Memorial Stadium, The Des Moines Register reporter Walter Shotwell thought he had found a clever way to discredit a visiting professional wrestler named Hans Schmidt. Just a few days prior, on August 1, 1953, Schmidt had been seen on national television barking into a microphone using a thick German accent. He dismissed the concept of sportsmanship and vowed to “win ze title and take it back to Germany vere it belongs.”

In the years following World War II, a German nationalist was not likely to be cheered on anywhere in the United States, but the vitriol Schmidt encouraged was unlike anything pro wrestling had ever seen. Schmidt had fans practically frothing at the mouth, stabbing him with hairpins, waving cigarette lighters in his face, and vandalizing his car. Fearing for his safety, police would often have to escort him through angry mobs. It didn’t really seem to matter whether Schmidt was truly anti-American or just playing a role. Either one seemed egregious.

Shotwell suspected the latter. During his interview with Schmidt, he handed him a newspaper clipping and asked him to read it out loud in German. Schmidt refused, saying that Shotwell wouldn’t understand him. Looking at it closely, Schmidt could see it quoted residents of Munich, where he claimed to hail from, who said they had never heard of any Hans Schmidt.

Shotwell pushed it a little further, until Schmidt made it clear he wasn’t going to continue to play along. Had he admitted the truth—that he was not an actual Nazi, but a French-Canadian named Guy Larose—then he likely would have missed out on a career that would eventually make him one of the highest-paid and most reviled athletes in the world.

Courtesy of Dave Drason Burzynski

If pretending to be an enemy of the state was his destiny, then Larose was born at the right time. He was 24 in 1949, the year he decided to become a pro wrestler; his dream of joining the Royal Canadian Mounted Police had ended while he was still in training after the police and several RCMP students tried to enforce an alcohol ban on a nearby Native community and had their vehicles pummeled with baseball bats.

Eager to exploit his six-foot-four, 240-pound frame, Larose turned to wrestling. In Michigan and across Canada, he was able to book contests but found that neither his persona nor his real name was drawing a crowd.

Arriving in Boston in 1951, Larose met wrestling promoter Paul Bowser, who took one look at the stern-faced wrestler and declared that he should adopt a Nazi persona. Larose wouldn’t be the first—Kurt Von Poppenheim had already devised a similar gimmick—but he’d have an opportunity to do it on television.

At the time, ring sports like boxing and wrestling were ideal for the burgeoning medium. Cheap to produce, they could easily fill programming schedules on networks like the DuMont Television Network, a onetime rival to CBS, NBC, and a burgeoning ABC that aired grappling contests from Chicago. Although Larose—now Schmidt—had been stirring up attention prior, it was his August 1953 appearance and interview with Chicago Cubs announcer Jack Brickhouse that drew more disdain than usual.

After declaring “Germany has been good to me” and claiming that he believed there was no place for sportsmanship in wrestling, Schmidt was cut off by Brickhouse. With the emotional wounds of World War II still fresh, his appearance had struck a nerve. DuMont, Brickhouse would later recall, received more than 5000 angry letters from viewers who were disgusted by Schmidt. At least one viewer recommended he be deported.

Larose, however, exercised some restraint. The word “Nazi” was rarely tossed around, and he never goosestepped or carried a swastika with him. The implication of his allegiance seemed to be more than enough to stir the crowd into a frenzy, especially when he would remain seated during the National Anthem or turn his back at the sight of the American flag. He had been a motorcycle dispatcher during the war, he told journalists, and was once shot down while in a plane.

Although those details weren’t true, on many nights Larose may have felt as though he was in a war zone. Walking to the ring, he’d often be jabbed by women using their hairpins, or by men trying to singe him with their cigarettes. During matches, his “cheating”—using chairs to brain opponents, or kicking them in the groin—would draw crowds toward the ring in an effort to start a riot. At one engagement in Milwaukee, the ensuing chaos led to a brief ban on pro wrestling in the arena.

When the journalist Shotwell asked him what kind of car he drove, he hesitated. “A Lincoln,” he said. “I don’t want to describe it any more than that. I don’t want it wrecked.” He often came out of arenas to find ice picks in his tires.

Whatever argument existed about the good taste of Larose’s performance, there was no question it was lucrative. People who wished to see him get beaten in programs against the likes of Verne Gagne or Lou Thesz filled arenas. Once, special guest referee Joe Louis decked him in a staged climax. There was some kind of catharsis in watching Larose get pummeled.

Photo (C) by Brian Bukantis, www.wrestleprints.com

According to pro wrestling journalist Dave Meltzer, who inducted the Schmidt character into the Wrestling Observer Hall of Fame in 2012, Larose made roughly $1 million in his 20-year career, which wound to a close in the mid-1970s. Other “foreign menaces” like Nikolai Volkoff and the Iron Sheik were coming in, diversifying wrestling’s villain culture.

The kind of loathing he had drawn from the crowd remained rare in wrestling, which hates its heels but usually doesn’t attempt to stab them or burn them with fire. It wasn’t until Sergeant Slaughter turned away from his patriotism and became an Iraqi sympathizer in the early '90s that emotions got a bit too heated for entertainment’s sake. The WWE (then WWF) was forced to assign security to Slaughter’s family until the act was dropped.

By that point, Larose had long been out of the spotlight, having returned home to Quebec. He died in 2012 at the age of 87, his status as one of the most infamous performers of the 20th century having been largely forgotten. Never once did he admit during his prime that he was from Canada.

“Of course I’m from Germany,” he told Shotwell. “Do you think I’d go on television and say things that weren’t true?”

Additional Sources: Mad Dogs, Midgets, and Screw Jobs: The Untold Story of How Montreal Shaped Wrestling; The Pro Wrestling Hall of Fame: The Heels.

Unless otherwise credited, all photos (C) Dave Drason Burzynski from the book This Saturday Night: Return to the Cobo, available at Wrestleprints.com. Used with permission.

SECTIONS

arrow
LIVE SMARTER
More from mental floss studios