Where, oh, where, did manners go?

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Dan Issel was stupid, disgusting, out of control and merits a major penalty. My eyes have witnessed, in 40-plus newspapering years, a wealth of admirable self-bridling by coaches and athletes as my ears have heard jocks being sickeningly demeaned, cursed and otherwise splattered by a sorry minority of so-called fans.

After most Bucs failures in Tampa, some of the louder, more drunken and critical Raymond James patrons are prone to lean over Tampa Bay's team exit ramp to bathe Tony Dungy and some players in shouted slime. Going far beyond mere X's and O's disenchantment.

Fighting words ... intelligently ignored.

Strong, common sense discipline is demanded from jocks being profanely battered, as they intelligently choose not to look up, sneering at accusers, exchanging obscenities, opting to strike back at a slobbering minority of outrageous customers.

After his Nuggets crumbled that night in Denver, hardly a rare NBA occurence, Issel chose to stop and bellow a racial slur at a Mexican kid who admitted to spending two hours delivering a non-stop coach battering.

Swallow deep. Move on.

Dan, in his youth, was a splendid 6-foot-8 basketball player, superior as collegian and pro. But did he flunk Self Control 101 at the University of Kentucky? No matter how irritating, such oral clobberings are no-win deals for an Issel or any highly visible sports practitioner.

He served a four-game suspension and lost $112,000 in salary. Not the toughest of justice, but acceptable, I think, since the big guy avoided reaching the stage of punching or attempting to strangle the chap with the bad mouth.

Oh, yeah, two sides

Ninety-five percent of stadium ticket-holders, even when dismayed at ballfield performances, would never sink to nauseating, vulgar, face-to-face abuse. That will be severely tested today if the Bucs lose to New Orleans. Even then, only a few patrons will predictably become extremely odious.

But too frequently, there is a nonsensical minority eager to let the garbage fly. Displaying a sickening brand of bravery; often a band of seamy, out-of-shape blokes who figure well-conditioned athletes won't dare come into the stands in search of muscular retribution.

Oh, yes, Cleveland.

At the climax of a Browns loss to Jacksonville, shabby outrage exploded into a major Cleveland embarrassment Sunday. There'd been a strange, confusing conclusion to the NFL game, taking away any chance of a Browns comeback win.

Let's set aside what game officials did or whether their decision was just. Refereeing mistakes, no matter how bothersome, are never a reason for true mayhem. In the spiffy pews of Cleveland's new football playpen exploded a dangerous, animalistic and intolerable reaction.

Plastic bottles by the hundreds were heaved from the stands. Officials, players and coaches ducked and ran for safety. Browns president Carmen Policy said, "I don't think Cleveland will take a black eye from this. I like the fact that our fans care."

Whoa! Bad policy.

He would recant.

Cleveland, as a city, has accomplished glorious strides from a long, punishing period when it was a national butt of jokes. From a smelly waterfront, unappealing downtown and soiled reputation, it transitioned beautifully into a glistening metropolis rich with excitement, pride and equipped with fresh, sparkling facilities for NFL, NBA and major-league baseball.

Sunday was a shame.

A throbbing black eye.

Most in Cleveland are innocent.

Constituencies can boo an Issel or Dungy all they wish. Freedom of speech. Comes with the coaching territory. But to lean far over the edge, as with the firing of beer-dripping projectiles, is abuse worthy of handcuffs. Thugs should be dealt with as thugs, even if wearing team colors.

New Orleans would copycat the Cleveland junk to a lesser degree in massive view of Monday Night Football cameras, objecting to refereeing by tossing bottles. Can't we eliminate sales of even nonglass stadium bottles, demanding use of paper cups? Nasty fans should be allowed to handle nothing more penetrating than a snow cone.

This time, security was alert. Gendarmes at the Superdome, where Super Bowl XXXVI will be played, quickly arrested 13. Punish them. Ban the guilty from buying NFL tickets again.

Never, never, never underestimate how abusive the conduct of a messy few can become. I've seen sneakers and umbrellas thrown at players and coaches. You've seen videos of international soccer mayhem. I have heard ticketed jerks belligerently questioning jocks about ethnic backgrounds, competitive hearts and far worse.

Lousiest incident I've been around happened long ago in the early '80s at Foxboro, Mass., where the Dolphins had just lost to the Patriots. It's an NFL house with poor automotive access. Spectators by the thousands arrive extremely early, some drinking heavily at parking lot cookouts.

As the Dolphins departed the field, a few hooligans became quite profane. Two young men, disgustingly into an absence of mind, unzipped britches and began to urinate on the ramp to Miami's dressing room. Players climbed into stands, going after the ugly pair. Coaches managed to restore order among the athletes.

Can't we all be more humane? Move on, Cleveland. Get straight, New Orleans. Don't you dare, Tampa Bay. Smarten up, Issel.

This is supposed to be sport.

Whatever happened to Miss Manners?

-- To reach Hubert Mizell, e-mail mmizell02@earthlink.net or mail to P.O. Box 726, Nellysford, VA 22958.

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