Stat of the Week

Let's put all of the Charlie Weis-to-the-NFL possibilities to bed, shall we? I've got the real number it would take to buy him out of his contract, which has nine years left to run at Notre Dame. That figure plus the fact that he doesn't want to leave should take him out of the NFL pool for the foreseeable future.

The rock-solid, no-exceptions buyout number for Weis from Notre Dame: $21 million.

Factoid of the Week That May Interest Only Me I

Most famous people buried in Crown Hill Cemetery in Indianapolis:

1. Benjamin Harrison, 23rd president of the U.S.

2. John Dillinger, gangster.

3. Bob Irsay, owner of the Baltimore and Indianapolis Colts.

Factoid of the Week That May Interest Only Me II

Back in 2002, I moderated a program called "Married to the Game'' at the Yogi Berra Museum near my New Jersey home, with wives of four high-profile current and former athletes: Gretchen Randolph (wife of Willie), Carmen Berra (wife of Yogi), Jean Strahan (wife of Michael) and Joumana Kidd (wife of Jason).

In the wake of the tabloid-chronicled Strahan divorce last year, and the just-announced Jason Kidd petition for divorce from Joumana, claiming she beat him up with household items, I'm thinking of asking for a sequel to our panel: "Messily Divorced from the Game.'' Particularly since Jean Strahan got a divorce settlement of $7.5 million on Friday based on a pre-nuptial agreement, $1.2 million in back interest from the pre-nup, $6.6 million from half the couple's joint assets, half of the couple's $3-million home in Montclair, N.J. (no, it is most certainly not on my street) and $214,745 in annual child-support payments for their twin two-year-old daughters.

On Jan. 26, by the way, Yogi and Carmen will celebrate their 58th anniversary. My buddy Dave Kaplan at the Berra Museum reminds me that the marriage seems to be going well, from what Yogi says. "We have a good time together even when we're not together,'' quoth the Yogester.

Enjoyable/Aggravating Travel Note of the Week

Three of them:

1. Friday noon, in line at Zaro's, a bagel and sandwich place at the train station in Newark. Fourth in line. Woman first in line talking seriously on her cell phone, not paying attention to the line.

"May I help you?'' the gal behind the counter said.

"Hold on,'' Cell Woman said.

Three seconds. Five seconds. Eight seconds. Zaro's Gal says to the next customer, "May I help you?''

"No!'' Cell Woman says. "Hold on,'' Cell Woman says into the phone. "I know ... Yeah ... '' Then Cell Woman says: "Toasted bagel, coffee, black.'' Now back on the phone.

Zaro's Gal: "Anything on the bagel?'' Cell Woman pays no attention, and Zaro's Gal shakes her head, mutters something and gives the idiot her bagel and coffee. Still on the phone, Cell Woman pays and leaves, never acknowledging Zaro's Gal.

It's so good to be so connected, isn't it?

2. One of the great places in the country, downtown Baltimore. No need for a rental car. Lots of hotels close to everything. You can walk everywhere. One disconcerting thing: The Marriott Inner Harbor has always been the hotel of choice because of its proximity to everything; you can see right into Camden Yards from some upper-floor rooms. But the Marriott's view will soon be obscured by a big Hilton hotel, being built directly in the line between the Marriott and the baseball park. I'll miss that view.

3. You see so much on Amtrak. The sights, yes. The country, yes. But did you know that halfway between Wilmington and Philadelphia, a couple hundred feet off the east side of the tracks, there's a Port-a-John graveyard? That's right. Hundreds of decrepit portable toilets. What a view.