Cirque du Hauck welcome mat is out
Years ago, while working on a story about Olympic athletes who had found gainful employment on the Strip, I was admitted into practice for one of the Cirque du Soleil shows. It was the one with the big boat, if that narrows it down. Only they called it rehearsal instead of practice.
At first, it was neat. But just when they were really getting going with their pirouettes and such, and they’d bring out the trapezes, the music invariably would stop. Some frustrated choreographer who spoke like one of the Montreal Canadiens would say something to one of the dancer-acrobats, and everything would grind to a halt. And then they’d start from the beginning or take it from the top, I can’t remember which.
This is why I have never been a big fan of watching practice. Just when they bring out the trapezes, some guy named Jacques is apt to shake his head and frown. Then the music stops.
Last year, the local media only got to watch UNLV football coach Mike Sanford shake his head and frown on game day. He closed practice, apparently because he didn’t want the local press to see the high-wire act he was planning for UNR. And the games before and after.
The Rebels lost 63-28 to the Wolf Pack. They allowed 773 yards. They fell off the trapeze with a resounding thud.
Sanford should have allowed us to watch practice. He could have blamed the loss on the media causing a distraction — a much better excuse for getting blown out than the conditions of the dressing rooms or whatever he said on his way to Louisville, where he is now offensive coordinator. From what I’ve read, the dressing rooms at Papa John’s Cardinal Stadium are state of the art.
His UNLV successor isn’t quite so neurotic. Cognizant that nine of 10 media members couldn’t tell a coverage shell from a seashell, first-year Rebels coach Bobby Hauck has an open-door policy for practice.
The media is invited. So is the public. This includes UNLV students and faculty, Hauck’s fishing pals from Montana, the guy who prepares his taxes and his barber.
(But if you are married to an Oregon football coach, be warned: When Hauck was an assistant at Colorado and the Buffaloes were preparing for the Cotton Bowl, an attractive women wandered into practice writing stuff down in a notebook. The Colorado staff, aware that Oregon football coaches tend to conjoin with good-looking women, immediately accused her of sleeping with the enemy.)
All Hauck asks of practice-goers is they stay on the red-colored areas on the sidelines — don’t worry, there are plenty of red-colored areas on the refurbished practice fields at Rebel Park — and stay off the west sideline near the baseball field. That area is off-limits, even to Col. Hogan and the French Resistance.
Also, I would refrain from taking photographs when the Rebels are lining up in their various formations. Although you won’t have the foggiest notion of what you’re looking at, coaches tend to frown on amateur shutterbugs taking photographs during practice.
“We want to be cautious with our information, but we don’t want to be paranoid,” Hauck said, explaining why he puts out a welcome mat when many in his profession would surround the practice field with barbed wire, angry Dobermans and a moat, if they could get away with it.
“That’s something I took from Coach (Rick) Neuheisel. He never saw much reason to close practice. (But) if all of a sudden our game plan is everywhere, then we’ve got to so do something.”
Until then, Hauck doesn’t foresee bringing in the Dobermans like Urban Meyer at Florida, the latest big-time coach to hang a “KEEP OUT” sign on the practice field.
“We may close it during a big week, a rivalry game, just out of tradition more than anything else,” Hauck said. “But I like to have practice open.”
Naturally, this is bound to endear Hauck to local media, which, I am just as certain, had absolutely nothing to do with his decision. Other than the time President Nixon allegedly designed a play that lost 13 yards for George Allen’s Washington Redskins, I can’t recall the last time a football coach listened to advice from an outsider.
But in the event you’re interested, Coach Hauck, I can put you in touch with a guy named Jacques who runs a hell of a trapeze play.
Las Vegas Review-Journal columnist Ron Kantowski can be reached at rkantowski@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0352.