The Rotonda Follies

Pittsburgh Steeler Running Back Franco Harris coolly surveyed the pond and the line of trees guarding the 557-yd., par-five hole ahead. Then he belted the ball off the tee with all the power of Jack Nicklaus--but none of the accuracy. Far, far away, the ball hit the roof of a private home. After half a dozen more errant drives, course officials set a limit of twelve strokes per hole and charitably awarded Harris a mere triple bogey for his ordeal. "This isn't my game," he muttered.

Which was exactly the point. Franco and eleven other "superstars" were competing last week in the finals of a bastardized decathlon. No one is allowed to play in his own specialty. The rewards: a $1,000 guarantee, a shot at $122,000 in prize money and some laughs in the Florida sunshine. Filmed and broadcast by ABC, the series has shot to the top of the Sunday afternoon ratings this winter.

The presence of twelve big-name athletes sent Rotonda citizenry into autograph apoplexy, and an unofficial school holiday allowed swarms of children to join the athlete hunt. Commercial sponsors flew in a small army of star-struck clients and customers to hobnob with the captive athletes at a poolside cocktail party. With the arrival of Howard Cosell, the stage was finally fully populated for a genuine pseudo event.

The action started on the tennis court, where Cincinnati Reds Leftfielder Pete Rose stole the show if not the prize. He overcame his lack of experience --only four months on the court--to beat Austrian Skier Karl Schranz. "This game's like badminton," Rose declared happily after taking one game from Schranz by diving across the court to make an impossible forehand return.

After the general debacle on the golf course--won by Miami Dolphin Safety Dick Anderson, who finished near par --the athletes moved to the swimming pool. Boston Celtic Star John Havlicek immediately complained about his lane assignment next to Shotputter Brian Oldfield ('I'll drown in the tidal wave he creates"). After two laps, Oldfield surfaced gasping and decided to watch the close finish between defending Superstar Champion Bob Seagren, a pole vaulter by profession, and Kyle Rote Jr., son of the former New York Giants split end and a professional soccer star in his own right. Rote won by a hair.

The second day of competition began with the 100-yd. dash and the half-mile run. With the palm trees looking like a mirage in the unseasonable 35DEG chill, OJ. Simpson jogged around the asphalt track repeating one thought: "Man, it's cold. The Juice may just not run in that 880.1 don't want to die down here." Simpson did run in the 100-yd. dash and with his sprinter's speed easily beat Seagren. When the 880 began, O.J., true to his word, was seated in a warm car and Seagren defeated Anderson in the comparatively respectable time of 2 min. 11 sec.

Formal Protest. The next event produced the high point of the low comedy. At the end of the second lap in the four-lap bicycle race, Buffalo Brave Forward Jim McMillian swung out too far on a turn and clipped Anderson's back tire. McMillian went sprawling onto the track (he was only slightly injured). The chain fell off Anderson's bike, forcing him to retire. Miffed, Anderson marched off to lodge a formal protest that was quickly disallowed.

Cosell, who had missed the accident (he was warming himself in an ABC truck), dashed into the cold in hot pursuit of Anderson and McMillian. "Hold on, Jimmy!" Cosell yelled to McMillian as the basketball player was being helped off the track, 'I've got to do an interview with you." Undaunted by the large crowd of fans and officials, Cosell plunged ahead with a post-crisis analysis while O.J. Simpson held his cigar.

Amidst the hubbub, Rote quietly took second place in the bicycle race. Having placed second in golf and taken top honors in tennis, bowling and swimming, Rote, 23, piled up more points than his older and more famous competitors. During the soccer season he had earned about $1,500 playing center forward for the Dallas Tornado. As a superstar champ, he collected $53,400. As a divinity student who aspires to the Episcopal ministry, he was nonplussed by the sudden lucre ("I feel almost embarrassed by winning"). He announced that he would give some of his winnings to charity and went even further in an attempt to bring some class to the event. Modesty personified, he announced: "I do the best with the ability I've been blessed with." While signing autographs, he often threw in a verse or two from the Bible.

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