By Joel Warner
By Michael Roberts
By Alan Prendergast
By Michael Roberts
By Michael Roberts
By Amber Taufen
By Patricia Calhoun
By William Breathes
Colorado Rockies spokesman Jay Alves wasn't returning a lot of calls last week, not with all those cranky people questioning his explanation that World Series ticket sales had been sabotaged by an "external malicious attack," but Off Limits had left a message with these magic words: Steve Horner. Yes, at the height of Rockies mania, the anti-ladies' night crusader had taken on the hometown heroes, filing a claim with the Colorado Division of Civil Rights alleging that the Rockies' ladies' night promotion discriminated against men.
We certainly did not agree with his position," Alves says. That's because the Rockies will extend the ladies' night deal of a voucher to a free game to anyone who asks for it — and when Horner initially complained to the team's management this summer, he was not only sent two vouchers, but also a baseball signed by Matt Holliday. While this token alone would make most fans swoon with gratitude, Horner did not appreciate the gesture, instead equating it with a "certain degree of payola." And at one point, he left this message for Rockies general counsel Hal Roth: "Well, anyhow, I think I would be a phony if I didn't file some kind of charge against you folks, and I think I'll just go through the, you know, I'll go through the tax-paid trail of filing with the Commissioner of Civil Rights here in Colorado and, um, you know, they are a bunch of phonies, too...unless, of course, the person happens to be black, crippled, Jew, in a wheelchair or gay and lesbian. But I don't fit any of those."
Horner's complaint, and the Rockies' response, are now in the hands of that "bunch of phonies."
But on another field, Horner finally chalked up a pair of wins — better than the Rockies in the series — when two cases in Denver County Court were decided in his favor last week (even though he'd called the judge in one "a pussy-whipped fart head"). The first involved Moon Time, where Horner said he'd been denied the same ladies' night special as, well, the ladies; the second was filed against Rise. "I couldn't be happier," says Horner. "I feel like the heavyweight champ who wins the belt for the first time after ten years of hard training. I am jumping for joy in winning these decisions. They're both big-time knockouts."
But enough with the sports analogies; Horner has other fish to fry. He recently tried to enroll at the University of Denver Women's College, was denied because classes there are "just for women," he was told, and filed a complaint with the feds. Although that complaint was dismissed, Horner plans to file another one at the state level. And in the meantime, he's looking for a target that's "ripe and juicy," he says. "Probably a national player with deep pockets that, with these Denver County wins, I can take to Denver District Court. People can say I'm going for the money or going for the throat, but I'm just going for what's right," he concludes. "And money is what talks in this money-oriented society. Simply asking people to stop their discrimination clearly doesn't work."
Scene and herd: Leaving the Westword office on Tuesday, Off Limits saw that the World Series banner had disappeared from the side of the Sports Authority building, taking with it the last tangible evidence that Denver had really gone to the Game. Those last days of October seem like a dream, kind of like that time on Dallas when Pam thought Bobby was dead, but there he was in the shower, and it turned out the entire season had been a dream. Yes, the Rockies' stint in the World Series spotlight could be a dream, except for this all-too-real nightmare: At last Wednesday's rally, Opie Gone Bad singer Jake Schroeder was seen cavorting with Dinger! Be afraid. Be very afraid.