Don't let the fact that you were filmed stripping the ball out of an
NFL quarterback's hands on live television stop you from pleading
innocent to the charge
CINCINNATI - The fan who ran out of the stands and snatched a football
from Brett Favre's hand pleaded innocent to a variety of charges at his
arraignment Monday, while the Bengals promised not to let it happen
again.
Gregory Gall, 31, of Cincinnati, is accused of resisting arrest,
trespass and disorderly conduct while intoxicated. He was released on
his own recognizance following his appearance in Municipal Court.
The Bengals are reviewing their security measures to prevent a
repeat of Gall's run on the field, which interrupted the final minute
of Cincinnati's 21-14 victory over the Green Bay Packers.
NFL spokesman Greg Aiello said Monday that the league doesn't get involved in team security issues.
"It's a local matter," he said. "If there's any questions, we can
assist them. But it appears to be an isolated incident, and the Bengals
are reviewing it."
Favre drove the Packers to the Cincinnati 28 in the final minute and
took a snap from center when Gall ran onto the field, prompting
officials to blow the play dead.
Gall approached Favre from behind, snatched the ball from his
throwing hand and ran to the other end of the field with security
guards in pursuit. He was finally tackled and taken from the field.
The five-minute delay gave the Bengals time to regroup. They sacked
Favre on the next play, and the clock ran out after Favre faked a spike
and wound up running downfield. He flipped the ball forward illegally
as the game ended.
Several Packers complained about security, noting that the fan could
have hurt Favre. Bengals coach Marvin Lewis acknowledged after the game
that the delay broke the Packers' momentum, and joked that the team
would pay the fan $20.
A day later, Lewis said fans must be kept off the field.
"That's the first fear you have — there's a guy running clean at
Brett Favre," Lewis said Monday. "That's why you can't allow that to
occur. Our people that handle security feel very badly about it and
will take steps (so) that kind of thing never happens here again at
Paul Brown Stadium."
Sports leagues have struggled with the question of how to prevent
fans from going on the field. In September 2002, a father and his son
ran onto the field during a Chicago White Sox game and attacked Kansas City first base coach Tom Gamboa.
A fan went onto the field at halftime of the Patriots' Super Bowl
win over Carolina two years ago, briefly delaying the second-half
kickoff.
The NFL required all 32 teams to conduct pat-downs of fans entering
their stadiums before games this season. Local government officials
initially balked, but the pat-downs were conducted before each of the
last two Bengals home games.
Ghost town alive. After the real horror of Hurricane Katrina, New Orleans revels in 'Mardi Goth'
Revellers get political in the French Quarter Saturday night. The
"You're doing a great job, Brownie" sign is an ironic paraphrase of
U.S. President George W. Bush, who praised former FEMA director Mike
Brown's handling of the federal response to Hurricane Katrina before
Brown resigned under a torrent of criticism.
The margarita Diane Spieler sips during her nocturnal masquerade on
Bourbon St. perfectly matches the glow-in-the-dark green of her hideous
face, airbrushed in dreadful detail with reptilian scales and skeletal
hollows. Is she a radioactive ghoul? An alien sea serpent?
"If
somebody asks me, I just tell 'em I'm Katrina," the 57-year-old New
Orleans accountant says, glaring through ghostly pale contact lenses
beneath hair molded into spikes. "Doesn't it look mean and freaky?"
Two
months after the monster hurricane's horrifying rampage, Halloween has
brought back the French Quarter's thirst for theatric horror and
debauchery, its Mardi Goth mojo in the heart of a city long known for
its reverence for voodoo and Anne Rice's glamorously gothic vampire
novels.
"Halloween is the best kept local secret. It's shoulder-to-shoulder, just like Mardi Gras, but everybody's in costume,"
Spieler
said late Saturday, the spooky celebration in full swing two days
early. "It's the first big, fun, drinking night since the hurricane."
Much
of New Orleans remains a ghost town, but the French Quarter teems with
wicked witches and pimps in purple velvet. Elvis struts the sidewalk
flanked by Supergirl and Marilyn Monroe. An Amazonian blond's skimpy
cop outfit flirts with indecent exposure. Others share the Katrina
theme, dressing as discarded refrigerators and the blue tarps that
cover broken city roofs.
"Enough cleanup! Time for a drink!" said
Bobby Hughes, 23, a Loyola University graduate student sporting a blond
pigtailed wig, a plaid skirt that is too short on his 6-foot-6 frame,
and a blouse knotted above his waist that bares traces of a red bra.
"Helga's
my name tonight," said Hughes, joined by girlfriend Kat McKibben, a
"love bug" with floppy antenna, feather boa, butterfly wings and fuzzy
slippers. "You're hot!" a passing man tells Hughes.
Spared the brunt of Katrina's wrath and the flooding that followed when levees ruptured, the French Quarter has steadily revived since reopening a month ago. Its bars, restaurants and T-shirt shops have been kept afloat by a transient stream of construction workers, relief volunteers and journalists.
Trash
cans overflow with discarded beer cups. Shoes stick to sidewalks
lacquered in spilled liquor. Outside the Bourbon Street Blues Company,
a woman lifts her shirt in return for a shower of beads tossed from the
balcony.
"Different parts of the city, the Garden District and
everything, are not the same at all," said Dawn Carroll, 33, dressed as
a "Tool Time" character from the sitcom Home Improvement, only with a
naughty tool belt. "This makes you think that (New Orleans) is going to
come back. It'll be back full force."
Bourbon St. might not be
kid-friendly, and many neighbourhoods remain too wrecked for
door-to-door trick or treating, but children haven't been neglected.
Outside
De La Salle High School in the Garden District, little Batmen and
butterfly-winged fairies fill sacks with chocolate bars and lollipops
from bowls on tables lining the sidewalks. Indian warriors and
cheerleaders dance to zydeco music, oblivious to the downed power lines
in the median of St. Charles Ave.
Cherly Oncale worked on her son's costume for
two weeks during their hurricane exile in Atlanta. Their flight from
Katrina took them to five hotels in five cities. They returned two
weeks ago to a friend's house.
"We need a good party right now, to kind of reground us," Oncale said.