Word: cincinnatis
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Suicidal profligacy was the least of the owners' sins. The Cincinnati Reds' Marge Schott scrambled to apologize for slurs against "Jew bastards" and "million-dollar niggers." (Jesse Jackson called the phrases "shots heard around the world" and promised further protests.) The moguls also voted to try renegotiating the players' union contract, though a spring lockout would cripple already ailing attendance. In a horrifying climax, Florida Marlins president Carl Barger suffered an aneurysm during the owners' final meeting and died a few hours later...
USING THE WORD NIGGER GETS YOU KICKED OFF most teams. But since Marge Schott owns the Cincinnati Reds, she's probably not going anywhere. In depositions from a lawsuit filed against Schott by a former employee, several former Reds executives allege that they heard Schott refer to two players as her "million-dollar niggers." She denies using the phrase but admits using the N word. There are also charges that Schott has a swastika armband at home, but she argues that it's "memorabilia...
...LOST HIS VOICE BUT WON JUST ABOUT EVERYthing else. On Sunday morning, speaking in Cincinnati, Bill Clinton could manage only 21 seconds of half whisper, half gasp; even on Tuesday night, making his victory speech, he still sounded strained and hoarse. It hardly mattered. By then the voters had spoken, and the election that briefly looked close had become anything...
...always in quest of a narrow victory or fleeing from the ghosts of humiliation. Clinton was different; he did it, regardless of the buoyant polls, largely because he wanted to. Few political odysseys could rival Clinton's 48-hour, sleep-defying, time zone-girdling, voice-croaking campaign climax. From Cincinnati last Sunday morning to Little Rock at 10:30 a.m. on Election Day, the Clinton Exhaustion Tour covered 5,000 miles and 14 cities. An hour-by-hour chronicle...
...Sunday, Cincinnati, Ohio: The final gauntlet began in the drizzle outside Riverfront Stadium a few hours before a Bengals game. The previous night, the Clinton camp had lost an almost irreplaceable resource: the candidate's voice. By early Sunday morning Clinton was, as issues director Bruce Reed put it, "the real candidate of the Silent Majority." Taking the stage, he sounded like Marlon Brando in The Godfather and spoke for 21 seconds, a personal record for brevity. "Bad. It's bad," he gasped. "I'm going to let Hillary say something." She delivered a brief speech filled with the pronoun...