He Is on the Prowl in Reno, but Locals Don’t Call 911

I know what some of you must’ve been thinking: The guy finally went too far, the solicitation of bachelors to play golf -- one of them required to marry the daughter and all of them reneging to date -- pushing the family over the edge and doing him in. No more Page 2.

Stop the celebrating. I’m back.

But I do have jury duty a week from now -- this would not be a good time for an athlete or Jason Phillips to find himself in legal trouble -- and I’ve been told that at times I have a tendency to be a little judgmental.

“You eliminated the Dodgers from the playoffs after the first game of the season,” someone recently noted, and for the record I also pegged Mr. Lisa as a big loser at the same time, so as you can see, who needs a trial?

I’m told, though, it’s my civic duty to give the guilty party I’ll be judging a fair shake before sending him away, so I took a trip to the hinterland last week to clear my mind and return judgment-free.

Phil Weidinger, a public relations guy, suggested booking a trip on www.golfthehighsierra.com because he’s paid money by the folks at the website to make such suggestions.

In my judgment it’s probably not a good thing to listen to someone who is known best to his friends as “Dinger,” but I noticed the trip he was proposing began in Reno. (Reno is known for quickie divorces, which means a huge pool of guys on the rebound, one of whom might be interested in marrying the Daughter Who Can’t Get a Date, if he sees one of the handbills I intend on passing out.)

So I began in Reno, a dump, as I recall when the wife was younger and we visited the place on our honeymoon. Those were the days ... well, minutes.

Dinger had me check into the Silver Legacy Resort Casino, but instead of allowing me to clear my head at the craps table, he had me go on a tour of the Reno art district. I figured I could endure anything for 60 seconds.

I discovered later that Reno has been revitalized with lots of art, parks complete with a running river, kayak and raft rides, along with a golf course four miles out -- LakeRidge -- with the prettiest hole I’ve ever seen.

The par-three, 220-yard 15th hole has an elevated tee overlooking an island green surrounded by trees with a long look at the Reno skyline. I no longer cared how the search for a Laker coach went. In fact, I got so carried away for a few minutes there I almost gave no thought to finding the daughter a husband -- leaving it up to her -- before I caught myself.

*

THE NEXT two days were spent in the wilderness far enough away to avoid all sports talk radio. Not a 7-Eleven in sight, but a dusting of snow the first day. For all I knew, Kobe Bryant had begged Phil Jackson to coach again.

Just outside Truckee, Calif., Jack Nicklaus has designed a course so grand, it’s a darn shame the guy we find guilty in two weeks will never get the chance to see it.

I played nine holes at Old Greenwood, stopped for a massage in the club’s Pavilion, thought about playing another nine, but chose to visit the Donner Memorial State Park Museum to read up on cannibalism before stopping for dinner at Moody’s in Truckee, where Paul McCartney has been known to appear.

Just my luck, the only folks to show up were a writer from New Orleans, who considered himself a Yankee fan, and a writer from New Hampshire, who talked nonstop Red Sox. The only time they agreed was when ordering wine, and then that got to be too much and they were challenging each other to fight. It was like sitting in the left-field stands at Dodger Stadium. Come to think of it, it was Tuesday night.

I moved to another room and talked to several locals, and realized Truckee and Pasadena are just alike -- they couldn’t care less whether they have an NFL team.

*

BEYOND TRUCKEE, just shy of Graeagle, sits a winning exacta: The Whitehawk Ranch Golf Club and the town of Clio: population 81. It was originally known as Boozetown, then Wash, before a bunch of guys sitting around a Clio Stove came up with another idea. There’s not much else to do there but rename the town every so often.

Now it’s home to Molly’s, a B&B; named after a dog. Good thing it wasn’t named after one of our old dogs: “No Bargain.”

“The most famous celebrity to stay here was Lassie No. 9; I’ve got her autograph,” said owner Carolyn Van Stralen, while handing me a picture of a smiling Lassie with inked paw prints. “In fact, you have Lassie’s room tonight.”

It’s not often you get to stay in the same place as Lassie, and I was thinking of my good fortune when I picked up the local paper and began reading the police blotter. You never know when you might come across the name of another USC football player who has been arrested.

“In Quincy a woman reported that a man was acting strange,” the newspaper said. “He was banging on windows and hiding under vehicles. A deputy said that was normal for that person.” I guess Dennis Rodman must be up here too, trying to clear his head.

*

I FINISHED the excursion with a scenic drive around Lake Tahoe because Dinger never gave me the chance to play the Edgewood Tahoe Golf Course. He probably went to UCLA.

It gave me time to think, though, knowing I’d be returning officially to work Monday in time for Jose Guillen’s return to Angel Stadium. It’d be a good jury-duty test to see if I could talk to the crazy, insubordinate troublemaker without jumping to conclusions about what he’s like.

By the way, the www.golfthehighsierra.com trip cost $20. I had to write out a $1,000 check for it but then took Dinger’s advice to get lost at week’s end, putting $20 in a Wheel of Fortune slot machine on my way out of town and winning $1,000.

It’s like I’ve always said, it pays to have an open mind and expect only the best -- unless you’re talking about the Dodgers, who just stink.