MORE TREMORS IN SAN FRANCISCO
The University of San Francisco, twice put on probation by the NCAA in recent years for recruiting and other violations in its basketball program, is getting set for another shock. The school is conducting its own investigation of new charges, one of which is that Quintin Dailey, the star guard who was given three years' probation by San Francisco Superior Court Judge Edward Stern on June 25 after pleading guilty to aggravated assault on a coed and has since been drafted by the Chicago Bulls, got $1,000 a month last summer for a no-show job with Electric Supply of Salinas, Calif. The firm is owned by J. Luis Zabala, a former president of the Century Club, a USF booster group.
In an interview with SI last week, Dailey said he had, in fact, received about $5,000 in checks from Zabala's company, for which he had done no work. He also implicated Basketball Coach Pete Barry in one of the Zabala payments. Barry became the USF coach in 1980 after Dan Belluomini was forced to resign because of recruiting violations. Dailey said that just before Christmas in 1980 he told Barry that he, Dailey, was behind in his car payments. Shortly afterward, he got a check for $1,000 from Electric Supply. Dailey said he received similar checks for another $3,000 last summer, which he used to pay bills at Macy's California, Montgomery Ward and Pacific Stereo, among other stores. Dailey said he was the recipient of another $1,000 from Zabala's firm this past Christmas. On another occasion, Dailey said, he got $200 in cash in an envelope from Barry "because I needed some money for a Hertz Rent A Car bill" that his brothers had run up in his name.
When Barry was asked if he had ever given any USF players money or served as a conduit for money, he at first refused to comment because the university was investigating, but he later denied that he ever had. When Zabala was asked if he had given Dailey $5,000, he said $5,000 was "not an accurate figure." He made light of the charge by saying, "I've heard everything from $30,000 to $5,000. At least they're coming down. I have cooperated with the University. I've told them everything I know and it's up to the University to release the information. This is no big deal when you've seen what's going on all over the country."
"On your mark, get set, go slow," commanded the starter of the First Annual Good Ol' Boys No-Run Run in Scottsboro, Ala. on July 4, and the first wave of bodies meandered off. The non-runners loafed in the heats, but small wonder, seeing as how each was a full 10,000—10,000 millimeters (about 33 feet).
Dedicated to Calvin Coolidge, who said, "I do not choose to run," the race was inspired by The Non-Runners' Book. Any of the 300 participants who came in running shoes had to abandon them at the start, but other "aids," like bringing a wheelbarrow to push down the course, were perfectly acceptable.
One "competitor" wore a bowling ball tied to his belt in case he got the urge to run. Others carried lounge chairs along the route. When they tired, they would set a spell and chat. One man said he couldn't go on any longer and passed out in the 97° heat; the race veterinarian attributed his collapse to hoof-in-mouth disease. Another man lost his way.
The winners of each heat, who were urged to amble across the finish line, within an hour or so, were escorted to the winners' rectangle—a hammock. It resembled the official race logo, which showed a man in a hammock with a TV set on his stomach and lemonade by his side.
The grand prize (parking for the Knoxville World's Fair in a lot 180 miles from the fairgrounds) winner never found his way into the hammock. An unsuspecting Bill Clopton, who was home in Houston, won by proxy when an anonymous volunteer dawdled for three hours in his name. A confused loser traversed the course in an embarrassingly fast 42 seconds.