![]() |
||
| I come to praise Larry ... By Patrick Hruby Special to Page 2 | ||
If renegade cop dramas have taught us anything -- beyond, that is, the necessity of handing over both badge and gun before dispensing a little unhinged, nothing-left-to-lose justice -- it's that sometimes you have to discard the police manual. Take it to the streets. Get a little crazy. Be the bad guy in order to beat the bad guy.
Which brings us to Larry Eustachy.
One national columnist likened Eustachy to John Blutarsky from "Animal House." Another said his life had become a "really bad reality TV show"
In typically evenhanded fashion, Page 2 ran not one but two pieces ridiculing the embattled coach, his signature black turtleneck, even his taste in beer. Unrefined as it happens to be.
This has to stop. And not just for the sake of Natural Light Ice -- whose low-grade properties, it should be noted, probably helped half of us get lucky as undergrads. So sneer all you want. While those calling for Eustachy's smiling, lipstick-smeared head are suitably outraged -- what was a married, 47-year-old basketball coach doing partying with undergrads until 4:30 in the morning, "Old School"-style? -- they're failing to ask the larger question.
"Namley, what was the method behind Eustachy's honey-nuzzling, suds-guzzling madness?"
The answer is not what it seems. Then again, when is it ever?
According to a Kansas State student who ran into Eustachy at another party at that school's Kappa Sigma house, the coach claimed that he was on a mission -- a mission that had nothing to do with guzzling suds and macking on coeds.
Now, is that so bad?
Like undercover aces Sonny Crockett and Ricardo Tubbs, Eustachy wasn't out to cause trouble. He was looking to thwart it. From the inside. Decked out in tres cool, age-appropriate attire. To put it another way: Eustachy wasn't looking to sauce up and get down with barely-legal lovelies. Instead, he was selflessly stepping into harm's way, the better to prevent his players from saucing up and getting down with barely-legal lovelies.
Seen in this light, Eustachy's reported actions at both the Missouri and Kansas State parties make perfect sense:
Of course, the depth of Eustachy's self-sacrifice goes well beyond these examples. By hailing a 5 a.m. taxi, he sent a powerful message about the perils of drunk driving. By chatting up coeds, he forced their usually-inattentive boyfriends to take their eyes off the 2 a.m. SportsCenter. And so on.
Point is, Eustachy shouldn't be condemned. Rather, he should be praised. He was simply trying to do some good, the only way rogue cops and responsible, married, 47-year-old basketball coaches know how. Which ought to be enough.
If we don't believe that, we've learned nothing from Sylvester Stallone and Arnold Schwarzenegger. Let alone Steven Seagal.
Patrick Hruby is a sportswriter for the Washington Times. You can reach him at phrub@yahoo.com. |
|