Rick Sutcliffe once pitched himself into fireworks hilarity

Sometimes it’s good to take money under false pretenses, to allow readers and acquaintances to do my work.

Besides, I enjoy sharing. Life’s too short. As the death last week of Sy Sperling reminded us: Hair today, gone tomorrow.

Let’s start with Paul Dranow in Pennsylvania. He was watching Kansas-Baylor on ESPN on Saturday when analyst Jay Bilas, always eager to sound much smarter than you, described “a result-oriented foul.”

“By the time I’d finished trying to discern what that meant,” wrote Dranow, “the game was over.”

Next, Craig McCarthy writes about two men — strangers — seated beside each other at a Mets‘ game.

One turns to the other and asks, “What are you in for?”

Another McCarthy, Mike, the former head of MSG Network and the new GM of Cubs telecasts, this week met with one of his TV analysts, former Cubs first baseman Mark Grace. Grace told him this story:

Circa 1991, the Cubs were in Cincinnati, Rick Sutcliffe pitching for Chicago. Paul O’Neill, then with the Reds, smashed a long home run. In Cincy, home-team homers were followed by fireworks, thus Boom! Bang! Flash! Boom!

The next batter, Eric Davis, blasted one, too. Boom! Bang! Flash! Boom!

Out of the dugout walked pitching coach Billy Connors. As he neared the mound, Sutcliffe protested, hollering to Connors to turn around. He continued to plead with Connors that he has it under control, not to yank him.

When Connors reached the mound, he soothed Sutcliffe with, “I’m not taking you out, Rick. I just wanna give that fireworks guy a chance to reload.”

According to Grace, Sutcliffe could not throw another pitch until he stopped laughing.

Finally, true or false?

Cleveland.com carried live coverage Saturday from the memorial service for the Browns’ 145-pound mastiff mascot, Swagger, who died earlier this month at 6. The deceased dog was seen in an open, Browns-themed casket, his son, Swagger Jr., guarding it.

What? You think I’d make that up?

Leagues specialize in making sports unwatchable

ABC/ESPN, on Sunday, had a good, close game in Celtics at Lakers. Heck, “just” 68 3-pointers taken!

But then “get it right,” microscopic, freeze-frame, second-guess replay invaded — unplugging the game for institutionalized, unintended self-destruction.

The last 36.7 seconds ran 15 minutes due to three replay-challenge stoppages — two to inspect calls so close no reasonable person would have objected to the on-court call — plus commercials.

Driven to sarcasm, Jeff Van Gundy complimented the NBA for the creation of such “excitement.”

Friday in Orlando, the Mavericks beat the Magic, 122-106, though Orlando did far more to lose than Dallas did to win. The Magic shot 43 3-pointers — making nine, 20.9 percent. Imagine charging to watch such a “game.”

But foresight is not sports’ strong suit. The NFL is now rethinking that absurd pass-interference replay rule — introduced this past season as a thoughtless, knees-jerking overreaction to that non-call in the Rams-Saints NFC Championship game two seasons ago.

That non-call, as the logical realized, was an aberration, so unusual as to be shocking.

But the NFL, employing the same foresight as Allied delegates to the 1919 Versailles Peace Treaty — hello, World War II! — determined that any slight brush, real or imagined, by receiver, defender or both could be subject to a second-opinion guess via replay.

Thus, another Dr. Frankenstein lab monster — head bolted to its neck — and another desperate, roll-the-dice, you-never-know challenge to further derail a game by denuding action.

And another “solution” that added to the dissolution. As always, the NFL couldn’t see it coming.

Mensch of the Week: Mike Glavine, brother of Tom, baseball coach at Northeastern.

In the Red Sox’s exhibition opener — generally against a New England college team — Glavine allowed every position player to play, seniors first, thus to appear in both cherished videos and boxscores as printed proof.

The Red Sox, mostly irregulars, won, 3-0 in seven innings.

Compare Glavine to Connecticut women’s basketball coach Geno Auriemma, who still apparently saves his bench players so they can be fresh for practice.

In a 74-31 win over Tulane on Feb. 19, Auriemma played three starters 30 or more minutes, one sub for four minutes, another for three. Wednesday, in a 105-58 win over Cincinnati, three starters played at least 30 minutes — one played 39 of 40! — while a sub played three.

Clearly, the university approves of his methods, and has for years.

Amazin’ radio reach doesn’t go very far

Unlike the Yankees, the Mets again have no radio network that carries their games even 20-30 miles upstate. If you can’t pick up WCBS-AM, the Mets may as well be the Dry Gulch Buzzards of the Adobe Desert League.

Clearing time on small stations is neither expensive nor difficult. But first someone at the Mets, MLB or WCBS’s owner, Entercom, has to give a rat’s retina.

I sense that the Garden’s 50th anniversary celebration of the Knicks’ first championship will serve Jimmy Dolan’s skewed sensitivities rather than genuine team history. In other words, Marv Albert, the voice of that team, will not be invited.

After all, to avoid Dolan’s wrath, MSG Network pumped-and-quickly-dumped Jeremy Lin, the most exciting player on the 2011-12 Knicks, out of a team video retrospective. He never existed, not as a Knick.

None have done more long-term dirt to boxing than those most dependent on it: promoters.

Deontay Wilder-Tyson Fury, $80 bucks on pay-per-view near midnight? Sure, I’ll take two! Thirty seconds or 12 rounds? But remaining boxing fans are expected to subsidize the sport’s decline.

MLB’s new image ad campaign stars Pedro Martinez, Jessica Mendoza and David Ortiz mean-mugging the camera and warning whistle-blowers that “snitches get stitches.”

Reader Keith Marston notes the Mets have no problem starting Saturday exhibition games at 1 p.m. Only regular season Saturday games must start at night.

A good on CBS and Ian Eagle on Sunday, presenting a quick show-and-tell on Seton Hall grad and 40-year ESPN anchor Bob Ley as he was honored before St. John’s-Seton Hall.

You’re forgiven if you thought USC, playing at Utah on ESPN on Sunday, was South Carolina rather than Southern Cal. South Carolina’s traditional colors include black and maroon. The other USC, school colors maroon and gold for 120 years, wore black and maroon on Nike’s orders.

The PGA must be using those Rob Manfred balls. Sunday on NBC, Eric van Rooyen, on a 200-yard par-3, hit an eight-iron — and flew the green. Should’ve hit the nine.

Now that the name’s available, this column will now be known as Sussex Royal.

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