THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Tuesday, January 23, 1996 TAG: 9601230376
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C1 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Column
SOURCE: Tom Robinson
LENGTH: Medium: 78 lines
The condemned wore red, a bright and bold blazer. For his tie, he selected a red, white and blue, stars-and-stripes number.
Fashion sense aside, the sartorial splash proclaimed that, though he is down, Lonie Glieberman isn't about to skulk out of town under a cover of muted browns or grays.
Addressing a Norfolk Sports Club luncheon Monday at the Holiday Inn Executive Center, Glieberman even dredged up some gallows humor, referencing his appearance as a ``last meal'' before his Canadian Football League dream departs for Dallas or, perhaps, an involuntary demise.
Remember, just last week the Pirates, of whom Glieberman is president, were coldly shown the door by the political powers that be. Denied the chance to set up shop sans public money. Rendered homeless with a CFL deadline upon them.
Still, Glieberman honored the speaking engagement he agreed to a couple weeks ago. Even hit the buffet line for seconds. Then, before a sympathetic audience, Glieberman spoke rapidly and - again inexplicably - optimistically about the CFL.
As a Pirates' pep rally, the only thing missing was a table outside, manned by team employees poised to gather season-ticket pledges.
``The CFL will succeed in the United States,'' said Glieberman, 27. ``It's gonna take some time, it's gonna take some development and probably some restructuring in terms of how we market down here. But it will succeed because, all in all, it is a great game.''
They were to be the Hampton Roads Pirates, Glieberman said, anticipating a regional welcome. Then again, they would've been the Norfolk Pirates if only Norfolk coughed up $400,000 to fix Foreman Field.
``We never made any T-shirts either way,'' Glieberman noted.
Get this, though. They also were going to sell 22,000 season tickets. The Pirates' telemarketers, flush with a 9 percent sales-to-call return, said so.
Yet they only had 2,700 commitments when the plug was pulled - the buying urgency having been removed by those home-wrecking Baltimore Stallions.
Finally came the municipal repulsion as a last entry in another chapter in their restless history. One Glieberman calls ``60 days of CFL in Hampton Roads.''
``We don't know what went wrong,'' he said, ``because we've not talked directly to the cities.''
Turns out there never was much discussion between Glieberman and the cities, who in their big-league lust obviously balked at the perceived public relations damage a failed CFL experiment could do.
Probably Glieberman, an outsider, should have met with Norfolk Mayor Paul Fraim more than twice. Probably coach Forrest Gregg should have been more involved.
Those are among the procedural things that went wrong. This cart was always far in front of the horse. But the Pirates, pressed for time, had to take liberties and risks.
Fraim, by the way, was not at Monday's luncheon. He had been scheduled as a back-up speaker if the CFL deal died and Glieberman bailed out. But to Glieberman's credit, he arrived with a sense of wit and style, as it is, in tow.
His price for doing so?
``Four-hundred thousand dollars in renovations,'' he cracked.
In the end, Glieberman lamented having to give up his Virginia Beach condo more than he dwelled on the desperate state of his club. He ripped nobody.
Neither, though, did he have many answers. And again, he didn't know when to stop.
``There's no telling where we'll end up,'' Glieberman said. ``I know it won't be as nice of a city as this.''
The good folks of the Pirates' next port appreciate that already. ILLUSTRATION: Color photo by D. Kevin Elliott
Lonie Glieberman addresses the Norfolk Sports Club sporting a
patriotic red, white and blue tie.
by CNB