Call it a liberal woman thing, but I’m both mystified and wildly amused by recent comments in Salt Lake City sports columns about former Utah Jazz center John Amaechi’s revelation that he is gay.

As revealed in his forthcoming tell-all memoir, Man in the Middle, Amaechi lived a safely closeted life in SLC’s gay community (which he calls the “hippest and gayest” east of San Francisco. Hoo-ah!) during his two-year tenure with the Jazz.

I think this is fascinating. I think the news is groundbreaking. Sure, other professional athletes have come out in the past three or so decades, but only a handful. Breaking barriers in pro sports such as going public with homosexuality is, even in 2007, a big deal. And Amaechi is the first NBA player to do so. That’s quite amazing. And brave.

But I am showing how at least where sports stories are concerned, women are from Venus and men are from Mars. I believe most women who saw this story considered it multi-layered. They probably felt some empathy for Amaechi. Bad enough that he was an awful player, but then he had to conceal his true self from everyone around him, too. Women who appreciate sports and good sports writing (put me, a former Tribune sports editor, in that camp) would want to know more.

With the exception of Phil Miller, lead NBA writer for The Salt Lake Tribune who has covered the Amaechi story fully and professionally for the last two days, local columnists’ treatments of the topic have been unreal.

Check here, here, and here for how three male sports columnists scramble to distance themselves from a topic that still sends shivers down most straight men’s spines.

How do I know that? It’s the universal distancing factor they all fall back on. It’s the fact that these writers can’t ignore an important, even titilating story, but they haven’t figured out how to seriously address it.

They don’t want to come off as — god forbid — homophobic. Hey, no worries there! These guys haven’t run their own mental traps enough to even be accused of homophobia. They aren’t even there yet. It’s easier not to face the issue of gay athletes and what it means in the world of pricey, all-encompassing, macho-drenched professional sports.

So what we get instead from columnists Monson, Luhm, and Rock is this theme of apathy. It’s “who cares if he’s gay,” “this is news?” and “why are we even writing about this?”

But then each spins out 20-plus column inches about why he is writing about this.

Or, in Luhm’s case, a whole treatise on how Amaechi completely sucked while playing for Coach Jerry Sloan and drew too fat a paycheck from Jazz owner Larry H. Miller.

What do we make of that argument? That being the untalented slacker he was, it’s no surprise that Amaechi is gay?

It’s like the old argument about not seeing black when dealing with African-Americans. “I’m color-blind when it comes to race,” white people will say in their efforts at tolerance and inclusion.

But ask a black person if he or she wants to be invisible.

And ask a gay man who might like to be open while playing in the NBA how he wants to be perceived?

Not, I’ll bet, as someone to be ignored, brushed off and discounted with an eye-roll and a “who gives a rat’s ass?”

Anyway, here is a more thorough round-up of what NBA players think of Amaechi’s news. I love the quote from former Utah Ute Mike Doleac, always a smart guy far beyond his ability on the basketball court.

It’s fabulous for news junkies like myself when all the planets align for a fascinating story about politics, culture and human nature.

And if those forces don’t quite mesh completely, well by golly, we’ll give ‘em a nudge. Like, maybe, find a way to link Mitt Romney and a killer sore spot in LDS Church history.

Example: A new film, titled “September Dawn,” is scheduled for national release May 4. Its subject is the 1857 Mountain Meadows Massacre, in which Mormon settlers in southwestern Utah disguised themselves as Indians and launched a surprise attack on a wagon train of non-Mormons making its way westward. One hundred twenty men, women and children were killed. John D. Lee, the supposed mastermind of the attack, was executed as a result. But historians, writers, folklorists and journalists have for more than a century speculated on LDS prophet Brigham Young’s responsibility in the crime. No conspiracy on his part has ever been proven, but authorities of various stripes (except those in official positions with the church) have postulated that Young had a direct hand in the scandal.

Later tonight, KSL-TV reporter John Hollenhorst will report on the new film — which quite honestly, looks pretty cheezy and melodramatic. It stars Jon Voight as a deranged-looking Lee. Voight is in the twilight of his career, I’d go so far as to say in his roccoco period. I digress.

John has decided to link the upcoming movie with Republican presidential hopeful Mitt Romney, and how it might reflect on a general opinion that some big hulking church in Utah calls the shots in his political life.

That seems like a little stretch, but every reporter and blogger I know living outside the D.C. beltway is trying to scratch out a story about Mitt as the adopted son of Utah who saved the 2002 Winter Olympics, so why not the Mountain Meadows connection? In the news biz, if Romney so much as stopped in a Greyhound Bus station for an hour in Salt Lake City, it would be considered fair game for the all-important “local connection.”

Therefore, Mitt is one of ours forever. He’s going to put us on the map. Hey! Has anyone on the campaign beat captured Mitt sipping cold caffeine yet?

John H. came to the house this morning, seeking hubby Ted Wilson’s political expertise on the film’s possible impact on Mormons and church hierarchy (dredging up, as occurs about every 10 years, yet another analysis on the shame the church shares for its connection to Mountain Meadows). And yep, John plumbed the Romney connection — how the film’s anticipated message of Young as the massacre mastermind — might play with potential Mitt supporters or how it could affect his chances among those who question his connection to LDS Church leaders if he ends up running the country.

Wowsers. It’s going to be some year of candidate scrutiny leading up to the early primaries and caucuses next winter. Buckle up and hold on.

It’s always hard to know how people outside our Zion Curtain look at the rougher-hewn side of Mormonism. I grew up here, left for many years and returned 10 years ago when I determined it was time to return to the mountains, my mom, and a political and social culture that simultaneously edifies and enrages me.

So, if you are lucky enough to live here in Utah, tune into KSL-Channel 5 tonight at 10 p.m. John will dissect the Mitt/Mountain Meadows kinda-sorta connection. And Ted — who discusses the massacre as a permanent public relations challenge for the LDS Church — looks FABULOUS in his tan plaid jacket and necktie.

It’s one of the best moments of the Utah Legislature — that interview when GOP leaders offer their rationale for allowing so many morality-laced message bills to clog up Capitol Hill’s system.

Today it comes from House Speaker Greg Curtis, in a Salt Lake Tribune story by Rebecca Walsh. Of bills that ban abortion, open the gates for unfettered religious expression in public schools and regulate gay clubs in high schools, Curtis says:

“They generally come around every session. Legislating is all about morality. We represent the people. Some of the representatives are more aggressive than others in doing that. Some legislators want to push the envelope on court rulings.”

Hmm.

First of all, Curtis is a lawyer — though his specialty lies in using his political influence for squeezing municipal zoning rules to allow sprawling development along the Wasatch Front. Senate President John Valentine also is an attorney.

Curtis may not know the fine points of constitutional law, but a whole stack of eager lawyers on the Hill can help him out. Republican Attorney General Mark Shurtleff has testified, for instance, to the constitutional shakiness of several message bills.

Second, the speaker and senate president, along with their majority leaders and whips, wield control over which bills move through the committee and floor process. They oversee their party caucuses, where presumably, serious arm wrestling occurs in weeding out bills for the 45-day session.

One theory for leaders allowing their party’s rubes and goofballs to run amok with morality bills is the cover it provides for the real agenda. So far, that would include the well-financed-from-outside school voucher bill, which is fast-tracking its way to the state Senate and then to the guv’s desk for his anticipated signature.

Does anyone think for a minute that as Sen. Chris Buttars blathered on about kids who can’t wear CTR shirts to school, and Orem freshman Rep. Stephen Sandstrom pulled out dusty Ronald Reagan quotes in defending a draconian anti-abortion bill, that other more “go-to” guys like Rep. Steve Urquhart and Sen. Curt Bramble weren’t doing the GOP’s serious heavy lifting?

(Bramble is the brains behind a bill to make school board races partisan. He says it’s only because he wants more citizen interest and involvement in those historically dull elections. The truth is, he wants the well-organized and powerful right wing of his party to control those races at the caucus level, thus ensuring ultra-conservative school boards and yet another Republican power base in Utah politics.)

In my fantasy world, legislative leaders would come clean at least a teeny-weeny bit and admit that this is how their game gets played. So much of it revolves around diverting constituent and media attention from the real — and very unsexy — business on the hill.

It’s just one big shrug of the shoulders, one big “sorry, it’s not my problem.” And then we all go on.

When Elder M. Russell Ballard, member of the LDS Council of the Twelve Apostles, takes a public stand in urging compassion from the state Legislature, will its members listen? Is his point of view enough to open hardened minds — clouded or closed entirely by political gamesmanship?

Ballard, along with Catholic, Protestant, business and political leaders who comprise the Alliance for Unity, sent a statement opposing HB224 to the Mormon-dominated Legislature shortly before it hit the full House for a vote yesterday. The bill would repeal a 2002 law allowing Utah children of undocumented immigrants to attend state colleges and universities on in-state tuition — provided they have attended a Utah high school for at least three years and have graduated.

A tie vote (37-37) killed the bill, as per legislative rules. But as your read this, legislators are scrambling to line up votes on both sides and reintroduce it in the House today.

I’ve always thought LDS leaders do their finest work when they rally members to act with love, kindness, charity and gratitude. It’s an even stronger message when the leadership can apply that sermon to specifics in the real world — relationships with spouses, neighbors, and anyone else who looks, acts, believes differently than the rest of “us.”

I suppose the most rigid legislators on this issue could argue this isn’t an official statement from the church’s First Presidency. It’s Ballard’s opinion, just one man, just one thought.

But he is a decent man. He is a man church members look to for guidance and authority, especially in matters of confusion or debate.

Donnelson and his supporters stand on a platform that all laws must be obeyed and upheld. The 2002 law was drafted specifically to permit the exception for undocumented students with their high school diploma. It IS the law. And this miniscule group — kids who deserve a resident-tuition funded education — has been following it exactly as written.

HB224 has been sliced and diced on every media cutting board. According to state higher education numbers, the tuition break covers 180 students. It would help educate a sliver of the population that most likely isn’t leaving the state any time soon. I guess the Lege can dig in and decide to pass this ugly bill, choosing instead to support those who might benefit through government programs like Medicaid and CHIPS. Or lawmakers can give a leg-up in this small, benevolent way to a hard-working and deserving group of people.

Don’t you just love those puffy “best U.S. cities” lists that the mainstream media gobble up like buckets of theater popcorn?

They rarely contain that all-important context, such as a live quote from a recent crime victim or a parent whose kid was shunned by others at the neighborhood school for membership in the wrong religion.

Just three months ago, some self-promoting outfit called Morgan Quitno Press decided that the city of Orem was the 12th safest U.S. city in which to live. Naturally, Orem Mayor Jerry Washburn was delighted. He told the Deseret Morning News at the time his city’s ranking had a lot to do with Orem’s values, which are “centered on the family.” The schools are good, and the cops are community-oriented.

(What Orem doesn’t have, what all of Utah County doesn’t have for that matter, is an established shelter for the homeless. But why quibble?)

Of course, statistics don’t lie, and no one in Utah County could be accused of being blind to the real world. It’s just that at least anecdotally, Orem seems like a damn creepy place to live. And with regular, glowing descriptions of how fine the city is … well, try a bite of this reality sandwich:

1. A young married couple the press has dubbed Utah County’s Bonnie and Clyde was arrested last weekend and is now charged in federal court with armed robbery of the same Lindon bank three times. Authorities allege the once-wholesome, now skanky, pair spent the money in Las Vegas, Palm Springs and on drugs. Seems they wanted a honeymoon but couldn’t afford it. Because, well, they had to — allegedly — buy drugs, too.

2. On the same weekend, police booked an Orem man on suspicion of drug possession after finding two balloons of heroin under his mattress. On the way to jail, police say, the suspect admitted to hiding more heroin in a spot where the sun don’t shine.

Now, is Orem any different than other Utah cities — like Salt Lake City, West Valley City, Ogden, or (oh my heck) Provo? Of course not. Is it fair to single out Orem for cancers like meth addiction, domestic violence and property crimes? No.

It’s just that we all ought to know there is no such thing as “12th safest city in the nation.” Grit is one cost of urban life. And “safest cities,” quite honestly, are just a state of mind.

Peter Corroon started out with a bit of a stutter, a pause. He mistakenly said “Salt Lake City” when he meant “Salt Lake County.” He grinned slightly at the glitch, corrected himself. Then, following a wind-up that — in the shiny political kind of way — nicely stroked the stakeholders in the Salt Lake Real soccer stadium deal, Corroon broke the news.

Salt Lake County would not cough up tax dollars for the stadium in Sandy. The end. For 2 1/2 years this game has been dragging on. Now it’s over.

Real owner Dave Checketts says so. Speculation still runs toward Checketts locating on old Geneva Steel property in Utah County. But as of this writing, he is still talking about selling the team, gathering up his Tinker Toys and moving on.

You can analyze this ending a dozen different ways. I was in the audience on October 12, 2005, just a few hundred yards from the proposed Sandy stadium site. Checketts and his confab announced their plans to move the team’s home from the University of Utah to Sandy. I’ll never forget it. I wrote about that day more than once. What really struck me then — sticks with me still — was the body language among all those proud guys in white shirts and ties. So much backslapping. Such confidence in the future.

There was this long line of South Salt Lake Valley Republicans — Sandy Mayor Tom Dolan and Republican Speaker of the House Greg Curtis (who represents Sandy), as well as Gov. Jon Huntsman Jr. Checketts was running the news conference with a whole entourage of handlers and team boosters.

But curses! There was that little matter of what Salt Lake County might do. After Checketts had introduced his backers, he suddenly summoned Corroon to the platform. It seemed like a total afterthought. It felt like the guys had the deal greased, but it might be nice to invite Corroon up for a few minutes at the grown-up table.

I’m not saying this one moment predicted the final outcome. I’ve talked with plenty of county officials involved in the negotiations for $34 million of hotel taxes from Salt Lake County, and I’m convinced Corroon and others wanted the numbers to work. (Corroon has committed to putting $7.5 million toward youth soccer programs and facilities, BTW.)

The numbers did not work. I’m sure grinning, hopeful men at that stadium announcement long ago imagined they would wait Corroon out, delay delivery of the real financials (remember, Real Salt Lake didn’t reveal them to the county until mid-December) and get what they wanted.

Checketts may be a professional sports icon, a solid businessman, a hometown hero and all-around nice guy. But based on information from county experts, financial evaluations by an independent company and the county’s debt review panel, Real couldn’t prove solvency on this deal. And almost as troublesome, Checketts seemed determined first to build a commercial empire (concerts, retail, etc.) and then, a soccer stadium. It should have been the other way around.

I asked the mayor at today’s press conference if he thought the principal actors in this drama had sold his ability short, or flat-out dismissed him. He said he always tried to work in good faith. His top concern, he said, was the debt level and his responsibility to county taxpayers. Another reporter mentioned Dolan’s public complaint that would tarnish Salt Lake County’s image among big investors nationwide. Surely, Dolan predicted, this would energy for others interested in locating here.

Corroon’s reaction: “I guess my answer is, then don’t bring bad projects to Utah.”

Pundits all over town are predicting the county, the whole state, will regret this decision. It seems soccer will pass us by. We’ll be standing around, our mouths hanging open, looking like the people on the platform who were fussing with our luggage, our passports and purses and missed boarding the bullet train.

Hmm, maybe.

But for now, we’ve got a county mayor who had a hand on our wallet. I think it’s going to work out fine.

It’s a charge I heard so often as a newspaper journalist, I could recite it in my sleep. And it usually came from the mouths of politicians. Reporters, they said, are cynics. Always looking for the worst in human nature, always waiting for misfortune, trying to be glib and smart.

Well, the “Tax Me More” bill introduced this week by Rep. Greg Hughes, a Draper Republican, takes the grand prize for cynicism.

Hughes favors a $400 million tax cut for Utahns, based on our whopping projected $1.6 billion budget surplus. Polls consistently show that more than 37 percent of Utahns would reject a tax cut if it meant more money going directly to schools and transit. So in the best tradition of a legislative “screw you,” Hughes has come up with this sorry proposal.

It’s no joke. Hughes wants a “tax me more” provision included on state income tax returns. It would allow taxpayers to turn over $1 or more of their tax refund to the state’s general fund. Hughes says other states are doing it. Guess it’s his version of “put your money where your mouth is.”

It also lets him off the hook. Now Hughes and his pals who agree with him can go off and hack away at the tax base, while simultaneously claiming they gave constituents their chance to use tax money the way they wanted. No hard choices for this guy. He’ll leave it up to taxpayers.

It’s glib. It’s sophomoric. It’s unbelievable, really.

Now just who is the real cynic here?

Oh, and a follow-up to an earlier post, #31, titled “One Driven Mother:”

The Utah Senate yesterday voted down the effort to allow anonymous reports (also known as “squealing,” “tattling,” and “ratting out”) of incompetent drivers to drivers license authorities.