An Idol Threat To Sports

As recently as two years ago, when Shaquille O'Neal fell off the court during the NBA All-Star Game and into the only lap large enough to accommodate him--that of the second American Idol , Ruben Studdard--it was still possible to wonder which behemoth was bigger: sports or American Idol .

Immediately after that game in Los Angeles , when Shaq said of Studdard, "He grabbed my ass and wouldn't let go," it wasn't yet clear who had been clinging to whom for attention. But today the answer is obvious. America has chosen its favorite AI, and it isn't Allen Iverson .

When reigning Idol Carrie Underwood performed at halftime of this year's NBA All-Star Game, she didn't need the gig. The gig needed her.

That's because Idol has become the national pastime, America 's favorite form of competition, our Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday Night Football. (With 35.5 million viewers for this season's debut, it outdrew every televised sporting event save the Super Bowl.)

Last month Idol put the Olympics in a crippling full Nielsen, dominating NBC among 18- to 49-year-old viewers. The Peacock eventually had to air the marquee names in the women's figure skating final from Turin after--but not during--AI. Now when sports and Idol collide, sports is the one holding the hug a little too long. And why not? Last week, the San Francisco Giants entertained Cactus League fans with a team version of Idol. Jeff Fassero (as Simon Cowell ), Ray Durham (as Randy Jackson ) and Omar Vizquel (as Ryan Seacrest ) sat in judgment of pitcher Brian Wilson, who sadly spurned the Beach Boys for Billy Idol 's White Wedding. ESPN is airing Knight School, in which Texas Tech basketball coach Bob Knight channels Cowell , selecting a Red Raiders walk-on from among 16 fresh-faced candidates eager to endure the baleful glares and withering criticism that have become Knight's--and Cowell 's--lucrative shtick.

Now it's time for the rest of sports to imitate Idol. After all, every AI contestant arrives in our homes unhyped and unheard-of, unlike the unfortunate Bode Miller , who arrived at the Olympics having already appeared on 60 Minutes , in Rolling Stone and on the covers of TIME, Newsweek , SPORTS ILLUSTRATED , Outside and--if memory serves--Bovine Veterinarian. He was also the unavoidable ammo in a confetti cannon of Nike ads. By the time Miller had earned skiing's Golden Sombrero, going an Olympic 0 for 5, he and his audience were wishing him Godspeed to a quick and merciful oblivion.

Lesson: It's fun to see an unknown about to become a star, less fun to see a star about to become unknown.

Idol is college basketball circa 1982, when you'd never heard of Michael Jordan until his freshman year at North Carolina , then watched him go from stranger to star over the course of a season, culminating with the nightly, single-elimination, Idol-like climax of March Madness.

Whereas today sports fans have been following next season's freshman basketball star, Ohio State--bound Greg Oden , since his sophomore year in high school. He could be considered an overnight sensation only at Neptune's North Pole , where a season lasts for 40 years.

On Idol it is genuinely difficult to make the playoffs. In the NHL and the NBA 53% of teams reach the postseason. In the NFL 38% do. In baseball 27% advance. But on Idol--where 100,000 audition for 12 spots in the finals--that figure is a ludicrous .012%. It's a number too tiny for a sports fan to process, neither a batting average nor a Breathalyzer result.