TONYA HARDING AND THE NEW WORLD ORDER

There must be something wrong with me. Modern life requires people to proclaim choices -- Woody or Mia, Donald or Ivana, John or Lorena -- and I am not normally one to go against the grain.

The world is pulling for Nancy. But I can't bring myself to dislike Tonya.

Not that I want her to win an Olympic gold medal. That would require I take a serious interest in her event, figure skating. Admitting I am a bit thick in this regard, my preference runs to sports in which things are thrown, hit, caught, kicked, putted or dunked.

My demeanor is more redneck than Nordic. Ice is needed for cold drinks, otherwise it's just a challenge to traction. If they ever hold the Winter Olympics below the Mason-Dixon Line, where some events are conducted in slush amid downed tree limbs, I would probably take more of an interest.

Not to mislead anyone, I am as capable as anyone of sitting for long periods in front of a television and pumping my fist when an American skier not known east of Denver wins an alpine event over an Austrian who looks as though paint were spilled on his jumpsuit.

(I am mystified, admittedly, by moguls skiing, an event in which you would expect Ted Turner and John Malone to compete ... first one down the hill gets access to the information superhighway.)

What the Olympics lack in warm-weather appeal, they make up for with spirit and idealism. There is a quality to the games that provides a thinking person pause when all logic indicates Earth will never be like those Coke commercials where global citizens want only to teach the world to sing.

How does any of this recommend Tonya Harding, rebel without regret and intimate of thugs? If judgment were as important to her sport as skates, she would be flat on her back.

So, there is no choice but for this to come off cynically. In the evolving spirit of the Olympics, where the real gold is found in endorsement deals made as a result of success, Tonya Harding should be the poster girl.

Part of Tonya's appeal is the fact she is so nakedly and cheerfully opportunistic. She predicts victory with the elan of Jimmy Johnson. She insists her interest in a gold medal is monetary. Her skating seems to improve with each added layer of notoriety.

(At this newspaper, there are fewer than 20 practicing journalists. There were 25 times that many at Harding's Olympic practice session Thursday. She nailed a handful of triple axels, something no other female skater dared try.)

For an entourage, she has surrounded herself with the worst collection of dunderheads since the scattering of Larry, Curly and Mo. Given their eventual conduct in covert operations, it is hardly surprising that when the pesky problem of Nancy Kerrigan came up as an obstacle to Tonya's success, this crew figured it was best to take a club and whack her on the knee.

Think of it. Tonya Harding claims she has spent more than two decades wanting only to represent her country on the victory stand at her sport's greatest showcase. One almost hears fifes and drums accompanying her recitation of this dream.

So, in the "by-whatever-means-necessary" disposition that is so cherished by champions, does it seem out of character for her to coax goons to damage her chief rival? As a product of a nation where people go to great lengths to get what they want, she might be the quintessential modern athlete.

The fact that she fired a pre-emptive strike, retaining an aspiring hit man for her strategy, instead of settling her rivalry in competition might smack of being unsportsmanlike, but it could be Tonya's just ahead of her time. Five years from now, disabling an opponent might just be part of the gamesmanship.

Maybe this is the New World Order manifesting itself through the Olympics. The Cold War is over. No longer can Dick Button throw up his hands in disgust at the scoring mistreatment administered on an American figure skater by an Eastern Bloc judge.

The beauty of the 1980 American gold medal in ice hockey was that the powerful Soviet team was beaten in the process. There was a transcendent tension that went with Olympic competition because of the nature of global politics.

Now, instead of hating Russians, we bankroll them. And the modern villains, Saddam Hussein and Mohammed Farrah Aidid, don't know a luge run from a beer run.

With Tonya Harding and Nancy Kerrigan, the tension is back. Figure skating and CBS are the winners, with most of the world waiting to see if there's a cat fight on ice.

Maybe the two of them are in cahoots, an elaborate conspiracy to raise the visibility of their sport, with Nancy bravely offering to "take one for the team." You laugh. But is it any goofier than the balance of this story?

Ken Newton is editor of the Southeast Missourian.