3 sports items worth venting about

I’ve been told by my shrink, Dr. Strangelove, not to hold in my emotions.

I do this from time to time. Mental health is at least as important as physical health. I tried to run this stress off, to no avail. Therefore, the idea is to spill the beans and feel better.

So here are three sports-related items to which I see no solution beyond the usual felony.

One, ESPN hires Bob Knight as an NCAA Tournament analyst: OK, OK. I recognize that Knight possesses one of the great basketball minds in the world. I get that.

Hope you got the blatant hypocrisy. This is the genius who said that journalism is about two steps away from prostitution. And now, he’s taking money — boatloads of money — to engage in (ewwww!) journalism. I just hope ESPN uses the seven-second delay.

Maybe Knight will share with us the importance of sticking with a task, no matter how difficult it may seem, to never quit, to … oops, Knight bailed on Texas Tech midway through the season, didn’t he? Never mind.

Maybe he’ll talk about sportsmanship. Nah, that might induce him to hurl a chair at Digger Phelps — which, come to think of it, isn’t all that objectionable.

To be fair, Knight isn’t the first public anti-media fiend to befriend the enemy. Mike Ditka had too many blowups at reporters to count. Sterling Sharpe treated the press like it was stuck onto the bottom of his shoe. And now, they’re making millions off the people they publicly insulted. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Maybe ESPN tried to get Kelvin Sampson, but I have an idea they couldn’t reach him because his phone line was busy. Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk.

OK, that wasn’t hysterical, but this is. Fans of the old Miami Dolphins, Vancouver Canucks and others were famous for waving white handkerchiefs en masse. Chicago Blackhawks fans were famous for their grand, booming singing of “The Star Spangled Banner.”

Everett Silvertips fans are known for “… and they still suck!”

Yep, that’s the chant when the golden pipes of Greg Piland announce that the opposition’s penalty box is no longer occupied, that the foes are at full strength.

I didn’t think it would be possible, but the charming little mantra seems to be gradually building strength. What I heard this weekend seemed louder than at any other time I can remember.

Unfortunately.

The comical part is that the crowd asserts the opposition — well … sucks — even when the Silvertips are behind. Doesn’t that approach the zenith of ludicrous, home-team reasoning? I mean, if the Spokane Chiefs suck and they’re ahead 4-1, does that make the home team seem even more doomed to failure?

I know it’s hope against hope, but after five years, isn’t it time for a more creative variation?

Yes, Doctor, as a matter of fact, I do think about this stuff.

Third, cheating.

OK, I admit lifting the occasional $100 bill when my brother and I played Monopoly. But he was a dirty little pain and it was important he learned respect at all costs.

For just one moment, let’s forget allegations against Barry Bonds, Lance Armstrong and Roger Clemens. Cheating has been with us since the Neanderthal period, when Og fixed the Mastodon races.

They cheat because they believe they can’t be caught. And as many synthetic shielding agents there are out there that hide what would be positive drug tests, an athlete has to have an IQ of a cumquat to get nailed.

Face it. Enforcement always will be at least one step behind the offenders. Only the dullest get caught, such as Spanish cyclist Jesus Manzano, who collapsed during the 2003 Tour de France because what (as he later admitted) was a bad blood transfusion. He then went on to reveal a laundry list of drugs, such as testosterone and Prozac, that he’d been forced to take by his team.

With all that help, though, Manzano was never a particularly good cyclist.

It serves as comic relief when someone gets caught (picture Rafael Palmeiro wagging his index finger at lawmakers, asserting he never, ever took steroids mere weeks before tests revealed that he had; what a scream!).

But for the most part, how can we know who’s clean and who’s dirty?

And at what point will fed-up fans refuse to shell out inflated ticket, parking and concession costs to watch an event that they can never be sure is competed on the level?

Then, we’re all out of a job.

Gee. Glad I got all that out.

I feel so much better.