At the Mall of America on my day off Monday, I spied a T-shirt that read, "Property of HHH.

Tuesday, February 08, 2000

At the Mall of America on my day off Monday, I spied a T-shirt that read, "Property of HHH."

I thought to myself, Now who would claim to be the property of Hubert Horatio Humphrey?

Upon closer inspection, the shirt turned out to be referencing Triple H, a professional wrestler.

Though I’ve never watched this HHH work, I will defer to Webster’s Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary to define professional in terms of wrestling.

Surely, the third definition fit like spandex around HHH’s double barrel chest. It reads, "following a line of conduct as though it were a profession."

In the case of HHH and his cohorts, I’d say the line of conduct is a despicable one that the wrestlers follow extremely well – to a G-string T in fact.

Much to my chagrin, HHH and the like happen to hold the country’s boys in a sort of rapturous headlock.

No profession is watched more than pro wrestling, a profession that I might consider watching only if HHH and I end up in the same televised cell.

With this in mind, I refer to last week’s column, in which I asked, Where is the Austin Way?

I understand that some youth sports leaders took umbrage with the column, thinking I was attacking the way they manage their youth sports outfits.

Not true.

I read recently that Cal Ripken has agreed to build a baseball academy where baseball will be taught and played the Ripken Way. I think we all know what that is.

In asking Where is the Austin Way?, my intention was not to ridicule, but to inspire.

In a city so rich with sports tradition, it seems to me that an Austin Way of doing things would be clearly evident.

But we all know that in some sports, we can follow great youth participation numbers up to considerably more bare cupboards at the higher levels.

How can this be? It is not the way it used to be.

It used to be that Austin athletics grabbed and kept the attention of the city’s youth.

It is not always the case today, when many are lost along the way.

For anybody who needs the help, where do I sign up (434-2234)?

I’d much rather help foster a future back-up point guard or fifth outfielder than watch him turn into a potato-chip wrestling fan.

Brady Slater’s column appears Tuesdays