Top 10 Sports Odd Couples

This is an update, with corrections where necessary, of a piece I first did in 2009, on (perhaps) the 40th Anniversary of the Felix/Oscar co-residency.

"On November 13, Felix Unger was asked to remove himself from his place of residence. That request came from his wife. Deep down, he knew she was right. But he also knew that, one day, he would return to her. With nowhere else to go, he appeared at the home of his friend, Oscar Madison. Several years earlier, Madison’s wife had thrown him out, requesting that he never return. Can two divorced men share an apartment without driving each other crazy?"

That was the opening narration in the 1st couple of seasons of the TV version of The Odd Couple, a situation comedy based on Neil Simon’s play. The play debuted on Broadway in 1965, with Art Carney as fussy commercial photographer Felix and Walter Matthau as messy sportswriter Oscar. (Simon said he wrote the Oscar part with Matthau in mind, but Matthau supposedly wanted to play Felix. That wouldn’t have worked.)

In 1968, a film version was made, with Jack Lemmon playing Felix and Matthau again as Oscar. From 1970 to 1975, ABC aired the sitcom, and it has become next to impossible to imagine anyone but Tony Randall as Felix and anyone but Jack Klugman as Oscar – and while Randall went on to Love, Sidney and Klugman to Quincy, M.E., it has become equally difficult to imagine them in any other roles.

I have, however, seen 2 other productions of the stage version of The Odd Couple, one a high school play and one a professional from the "Plays In the Park" series at Roosevelt Park in Edison, New Jersey. Both were really good, especially considering that the high schoolers were playing middle-aged men. I really believed these 16, 17-year-old guys were Felix, Oscar, Murray, Speed and the others. (I also saw the "Plays In the Park" guys do a pretty good version of Grease.)

Now, the year that Gloria Unger asked Felix to hit the bricks has never been specified. But since the sitcom began in 1970, it could have been 1969.

Having gotten the DVDs, and seeing some of these episodes for the first time ever, and others for the first time in many years, I've noticed a lot of continuity errors.

For one thing, an episode was filmed showing the breakup of Oscar and his wife, Blanche, played by Klugman's real-life wife, Brett Somers. It was a New Year's Eve party at the apartment we know as belonging to Oscar, and she caught him with another woman -- but, to borrow the cliché, it really wasn't "what this looks like." Blanche didn't "throw him out, requesting that he never return": She walked out on him.

Also, there were 3 separate episodes that explained how Felix and Oscar met: One while they were on jury duty, one when they were in the Army in World War II, and one when they were children.  The names of Felix's children also differed.

It's also worth noting that the TV show exists in a different "universe" from the play and movie. In the latter, Felix's name is spelled "Ungar," and he's a writer for a local TV station's news broadcasts.  Also, in that version, Oscar has kids. Both formats would do reunion movies, with both having the plot of Felix's daughter getting married: In the movie version, Oscar moved to Florida, they hadn't seen each other for 17 years, and they were reunited when Felix's daughter is marrying Oscar's son.

In the TV version, which came 5 years earlier (1993-1998), both men still live in New York, they're still friends, and Felix is still, for the 2nd time, married to Gloria. Their daughter Edna is getting married, but not to Oscar's son, as TV Oscar had no children.

But Felix does too much in trying to plan the wedding, so Gloria yet again kicks him out, just until the wedding is over. Different actors, including Dick Van Patten, play the old poker buddies Murray, Roy and Speed, and Gloria is now played by Barbara Barrie.

Oscar, as Jack Klugman then was in real life, is recovering from throat cancer surgery, having had a vocal chord removed, reducing his voice to a rasp. The two old chums help each other through their respective difficult times, but not without reintroducing their old difficulties.

Most TV shows set in real cities use fake addresses, to keep tourists from gawking at the buildings so that the real-life residents can be left alone. However, the Couple's apartment was established as being on Park Avenue, and the number 1049 can easily be seen on the awning. 1049 Park Avenue is a real address, and except for a different awning, the building looks pretty much the same as it did when the show debuted on September 24, 1970, over 43 years ago.

And while the show did a lot of location shots, including in front of that building (including 3 different angles of the scene of the taxi pulling up behind an orange Volkswagen), it was filmed at Paramount Studios in Hollywood.

Top 10 Odd Couples In Sports

These are all people in sports who, at least for a time, plied their trade together, but seemed opposites, and often feuded. In some cases they eventually made up, in some they did not.

In each case, the "Felix" analogue is listed first, the "Oscar" equivalent second.

10. Al Kaline and Denny McLain, Detroit Tigers, 1965 to 1970. Kaline has been Detroit's most popular living sports figure for over 50 years – more even than Gordie Howe and Steve Yzerman. For 5 years, McLain was a talented pitcher who tried to get away with a lot – but not everything they said he tried to get away with in Year 6.

Without McLain's remarkable 31-6 season in 1968, Kaline would have retired without appearing in a World Series. But McLain alienated so many of his teammates with his annus horribilis of 1970 that few had anything good to say about him when he was gone.

And even in 2007, when the twice-imprisoned McLain published his memoir I Told You I Wasn’t Perfect, he still took shots at Tiger teammates like Kaline, Bill Freehan and Mickey Lolich. Tug McGraw may have thrown the pitch and used it as the title of his first autobiography, but if there was ever a pitcher in baseball who was a true screwball, it was Denny McLain.

9. Terrell Owens and Donovan McNabb, Philadelphia Eagles, 2004-05. McNabb is no slob, but in being willing to do whatever it takes, including risking injury, he is the Oscar here. T.O. is the Felix because he's so whiny and needy and has to have everything done his way. They were only together for 2 seasons, and with injuries to both it added up to maybe one season's worth of games. But if you're an Eagles fan, it probably felt like longer. A lot longer

T.O. last appeared in an NFL game with the Cincinnati Bengals in 2010, and was cut by the Seattle Seahawks last year, but has not officially announced his retirement. McNabb has, having last appeared with the Minnesota Vikings in 2011, and a few weeks ago the Eagles retired his Number 5 and inducted into their Hall of Fame.

McNabb will be eligible for the Pro Football Hall of Fame in the election to be held in January 2017, and he will almost certainly get in, although perhaps not the first time. T.O. had over 1,000 catches and nearly 16,000 receiving yards, 2nd all-time behind Jerry Rice, and is the only player to have scored a touchdown against all 32 teams currently in the NFL. He will be eligible a year before McNabb, but he generated a lot of bad blood. I'll bet you any money you like that, in order to avoid an awkward situation, they don't get elected the same year.

8. Julius Erving and Moses Malone, Philadelphia 76ers, 1982-86. Doctor J was the most stylish player in NBA history – on the court, anyway. (Off the court, even the Doctor couldn’t touch Walt Frazier.) By comparison, Big Mo was, to use a hockey term, a grinder. He wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty, which is not the same thing as playing dirty. (He was a 1980s Sixer, not a 1970s or '80s Flyer.) The 76ers reached the NBA Finals with Julius in 1977, 1980 and 1982, and the Conference Finals in 1981, but they couldn’t get over the hump.

Philadelphia fans have often mocked the pretty boys of sports, long-haired quarterbacks, the mulleted hockey snipers, the bee-ballers who were more flash than dash. Dr. J was a rare exception, because they say that he worked hard to make those beautiful moves. But the Sixers needed that blood-sweat-and-tears type to get them to the title. Andrew Toney was one, Bobby Jones was another, but Moses Malone was a special player.

Few players have ever had the kind of season he had in 1982-83. Dr. J got his ring, but I hope he at least took Moses out for a nice dinner at Le Bec Fin afterwards.

7. Michael Jordan and Scottie Pippen, Chicago Bulls, 1987-98. I'm not sure I have to explain this one. I suppose I could list Kobe Bryant and Shaquille O'Neal. Kobe would definitely be the "Felix."

6. Punch Imlach and Frank Mahovlich, Toronto Maple Leafs, 1958-68. Punch (real name George) was the coach and general manager of the Leafs team that won 4 Stanley Cups in 7 years from 1962 to 1967. Mahovlich, a.k.a. the Big M, was his best player.

In the NHL's official 75th Anniversary book, hockey historian Charles Wilkins wrote, "It has been postulated (by, among others, Frank himself) that Punch drove Frank nuts. It has also been postulated that Punch was one of the few people who understood Frank. It stands to reason that one extraterrestrial – one, albeit, from the opposite end of the galaxy – should understand another." For the record, Imlach was Toronto born and raised, while Mahovlich is from Timmins, Ontario.

But Wilkins wasn't kidding about Punch driving Frank nuts: Twice, Frank was admitted to Toronto General Hospital for "chronic fatigue" -- in those days, a clinical diagnosis of depression was still a stigma. But, much like Yankee Fans with Frank's contemporary Mickey Mantle, the Leaf fans went from booing him to cheering him upon his return, because now, he was the underdog.

Eventually, Punch had enough of him, and, in the process of dismantling the dynasty, traded Frank to the Detroit Red Wings. It didn't work out for Frank there, and they traded him to the Montreal Canadiens, where he was reunited with his brother Peter, and together they won 2 Stanley Cups.

Frank later served with the Senators in Ottawa – but not the hockey team. He was appointed a member of the Canadian Senate. (Their government is a bit different from ours.) He is now retired from politics, and if he isn't the greatest player in the Leafs' 96-year history, he's certainly the most popular living one. Punch died in 1987.

5. Jerry Jones and Jimmy Johnson, Dallas Cowboys, 1989-94. True, Jimmy is quite fussy about his hair, but that's about it. And Felix would probably have found Jerry to be an incredibly crass, classless individual. Well, let me put it this way: "New York class" and "Dallas class" are two very different things. Jerry is definitely the "Felix" here.

4. George Steinbrenner and Billy Martin, off and on from 1975 to 1988. This might have been Number 1 if it could ever have lasted. Phil Pepe of the New York Daily News has compared it to Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton: When they were together, they couldn't stand one another; when they were apart, they missed each other terribly. Liz and Dick married and divorced twice, while the Boss and the Brat split up five times.

But they will be forever linked. Without George, Billy would never have managed the Yankees; without Billy, George might never have won a World Series. Actually, you could throw in Reggie Jackson and make this an Odd Trio, although there wasn't a comparable character in The Odd Couple to Mister October.

3. Vince Lombardi and Paul Hornung, Green Bay Packers, 1959-67. Hornung was one of the greatest all-around football players who ever lived. Just ask him. Lombardi never bragged about his achievements, though they were legion. His greatest achievement may have been reining in his natural conservatism (personal conservatism, that is -- like most Catholics of his generation, Lombardi was very much a Democrat) and getting along with Hornung, and getting him to make the most of his talent for the sake of his team.

2. Christy Mathewson and John McGraw, New York Giants, 1902-16. It doesn't seem right to list the player first and the manager second, but, in this case, the player was the Felix and the manager was the Oscar.

This was the total opposite of the Lombardi-Hornung relationship. McGraw was the short, nasty, profane, hot-tempered bastard, and a devout Catholic in spite of this, a combination which makes him sound a lot like Lombardi. But Lombardi would never have cheated to win. McGraw, as a player, was proud of the corners he cut. (iterally: If he was on 1st base, and he thought the umpire wasn't looking, he'd run right to 3rd base without going for 2nd. He got away with it a few times in those days of just 1 umpire.

By contrast, Mathewson was tall, handsome, and a superb all-around athlete like Hornung (his alma mater, Bucknell University, named its football stadium after him), but would have been totally out of place in a red-light district, never needed a curfew, and the only time he ever gambled was on checkers. (But he was a hustler at that game, and very good at it.)

McGraw used to say, "The main thing is to win," while Lombardi said, "Winning isn,t everything, but it's the only thing." Still, I think Lombardi would have appreciated Mathewson more than he would have McGraw. Hornung? He definitely would have liked McGraw better.

1. Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez, New York Yankees, 2004-present. Okay, maybe A-Rod isn't a slob, but his personal life, his contract issues and his on-field performance have often been quite messy.

But, as with the TV show – which ended in 1975 with Gloria taking Felix back and Oscar getting the 1049 Park Avenue apartment all to himself again – things have worked out: Derek and Alex have won a World Series together, and have been publicly supportive of each other since.

Oscar Madison, 1922-2012

Within a few days of my imagined lunch with Oscar Madison, the actor who played him, Jack Klugman, passed away on Christmas Eve.

Jack Klugman was the last surviving actor from the 1957 film Twelve Angry Men. He appeared on 4 episodes of The Twilight Zone. He won an Emmy Award for a guest role on The Defenders, starred on The Odd Couple for 5 years, and starred on Quincy, M.E. for 7 years. He lost a vocal chord to throat cancer... and lived another 23 years, and was acting for another 20.

He was married to Brett Somers, who played Oscar's ex-wife Blanche, but they split up during The Odd Couple's run. They had 2 sons, David and Adam. It was only after she died that he married his longtime girlfriend, Peggy Crosby, who survives him.

If Oscar was a real person...

(Some of these details are a match for Klugman's details -- for instance, I used Klugman's actual birthdate and birthplace, and made his real first name Oscar's middle name. Some are based on the show -- including the fact that ex-wife Blanche's last name was Brett's, Somers. None of it is based on the original play and movie, which had a number of differences, including Felix's job, the spelling of his last name -- Ungar instead of Unger -- and what happened to them after, as both the movie and the TV show had "reunion movies" that were very different. It's also worth noting that the show had 3 different stories as to how Oscar and Felix, played by Tony Randall, met.)

*

Oscar Jacob Madison was born on April 27, 1922, in Philadelphia. He grew up lower middle class in The Bronx, New York, and was a fan of baseball's New York Giants. Although he barely got through Theodore Roosevelt High School, he read newspapers voraciously.

He got a job as a copyboy at the New York Herald in 1940, hoping to become a sportswriter with the paper. World War II led to his being drafted, and it was in the U.S. Army that he met Felix Unger, who would thereafter be his best friend, though that friendship would often be strained.

After the war, Oscar went to New York University on the G.I. Bill, graduating in 1949, and was hired by the Herald. He remained with the Herald until the paper folded in 1981, and moved to the Daily News, and remained there until his death.

In 1951, Oscar discovered the signaling system set up at the Polo Grounds that seemed to give the Giants an unfair edge and led them to the National League Pennant. Although he was a great fan of the club, he felt it was his journalistic duty to report it, but his boss killed the story, for fear of inciting fans of the archrival Brooklyn Dodgers. Oscar saw the point, but swore he would never compromise his integrity again.

In 1959, he doggedly pursued a story of game-fixing in local high school basketball. This led to him getting his own column. He soon became one of the most-read sports columnists in New York City, and became nationally known through his appearances on New York-based TV shows like What's My Line (first as a guest, then as an occasional panelist) and Password.

In 1944, while he was in the Army, he married Blanche Somers. The couple had no children. They split up on New Year's Eve 1965, after some drunken escapades at their Park Avenue apartment. Contrary to the oft-told version of the story, she walked out on him, rather than that "Madison's wife had thrown him out, requesting that he never return."

For the next four years, Oscar lived alone, eating whatever he wanted, throwing his clothes, food, and other trash all over the apartment. A compulsive gambler, he tended to lose. His gambling debts interfered with his ability to pay his alimony, and both interfered with his ability to pay his rent. He was in danger of losing his apartment.

Then, on November 13, 1969, his old friend Felix was asked to remove himself from his place of residence. That request came from his wife, Gloria. Deep down, he knew she was right. But, he also knew that, one day, he would return to her.

(Note: No, he didn't know. Throughout the show, it was clear he wanted to return, but his confidence in that was shattered.)

With nowhere else to go, he appeared at Oscar's home. Oscar took a despondent Felix in, and Felix, with his steady income as a commercial photographer -- portraits a specialty -- began paying half the rent, cleaning up after Oscar, and cooking him some sensible meals.

But Felix's neatness, and his health difficulties (real and imagined), got on Oscar's nerves every bit as much as Oscar's sloppiness, and the other unpleasant aspects of his lifestyle, got on Felix's. It was odd enough in the early 1970s -- even in liberal New York, called "Fun City" by the Mayor at the time, John Lindsay -- that two divorced, middle-aged men would share an apartment; it seems that they could not do so without driving each other crazy.

For a time, the two men dated a pair of sisters who lived in the same building, Cecily and Gwendolyn Pigeon. Sometime thereafter, Oscar picked up a long-term girlfriend, a doctor named Nancy Cunningham. Felix also began a long-term relationship, with a woman named Miriam Welby, who also lived in their building.

The roommates enjoyed playing poker, and had a regular game at their apartment. But that was about all they had in common. Oscar's tastes were decidedly lowbrow, as he enjoyed sports and silly humor; while Felix was highbrow, preferring classical music, especially opera, and "legitimate theater."

Oscar was comfortable wearing anything, often walking around the apartment in a sweatsuit, or a bathrobe, and often wearing a New York Mets cap, once the Giants and Dodgers left in 1957 and the Mets arrived in 1962 -- as no self-respecting Giants or Dodgers fan would ever have switched to the Yankees. Felix was a clothes horse, and somehow managed to look elegant even when wearing short sleeves, and managing to make the wildly-colored jackets and shirts of the early 1970s look great.

On two occasions, they appeared together on game shows: On Password in 1972, in which Felix's odd playing cost them the game; and on Let's Make a Deal in 1973, in which they showed up in costume as a horse, with Felix as the head and Oscar, perhaps appropriately, as the other end. Password host Allen Ludden was a big fan of Oscar's, and Let's Make a Deal host Monty Hall was friends with both men.

Oscar also had a memorably bad trial as a substitute broadcaster on a 1974 preseason broadcast of ABC's Monday Night Football, with the New York Jets, whom he usually covered, visiting Cincinnati to play the Bengals. He tried to banter with Howard Cosell, with whom he'd occasionally feuded, and ended up getting shredded by his fellow bigmouthed New Yorker.

On July 4, 1975, in a ceremony in the apartment, Felix and Gloria remarried, and Felix moved back in with her. From that time onward, Oscar lived alone -- with the exception of a two-week period in 1993, when, shortly after recovering from surgery for throat cancer, Felix moved back in. He did so partly because he thought Oscar, who had lost a vocal chord to the cigars that he loved, needed help; and partly because, as Felix's daughter Edna was about to get married, Felix was driving everyone crazy with the preparations, and Gloria kicked him out again. Once Edna was married and Oscar was back on his feet, Gloria took Felix back.

Oscar never lost his touch. Even past his 90th birthday, he still managed to crank out a newspaper column once a week, using a manual typewriter. He never switched to a computer. "What do I need a word processor for?" he once yelled. "I can process my own words!" (To which Felix added, "I'll say.")

Felix died in 2004 after heart surgery. He was 84, and was probably as shocked as anyone that Oscar was still alive at age 82. Oscar died last week, his lifestyle finally catching up with him at 90.

Toward the end, since Oscar had no children, and his only sibling, a brother, had died years earlier, Dr. Cunningham returned to his side as his caretaker.

In the minutes before his death, Oscar began rambling incoherently. Nancy wrote down his last words, but they didn't seem to make any sense:

"He wants me to use a coaster... Rings, rings, rings... "

"He doesn't like pits, pits, pits, in his juice, juice, juice... "

"Felix, Felix, Felix... "

"The honking... the honking... "

Although he had no living relatives, Oscar Madison will be missed by his millions of readers. He was one of a kind.

No matter what Walter Matthau (were he still alive), Demond Wilson or Rita Moreno might say.

Oh, Oscar, Oscar, Oscar

So today I had lunch with one of the legends of New York sports, the ageless columnist of the New York Herald, the one and only Oscar Madison.

Okay, he's not quite ageless. He's 90 years old, and all that cigar smoking has long since robbed him of one of his vocal chords, reducing his voice to a raspy version of his old-time New Yawk tawk. But time has not dimmed his mind, nor dulled his wit. The guy has still got it, and still cranks out a column once a week.

And he still uses a typewriter. And not an electric one. Forget a computer: "I don't need a computer to do word processing," he says. "I can process my own words."

I met him at the Blind Pig on East 14th Street, which I introduced him to, even though it's quite far from his apartment on the Upper East Side. With its Prohibition-era decor, I figured he'd like it, and I was right. ("Blind pig" and "blind tiger" were both synonyms for a speakeasy, an illegal bar run during Prohibition, 1920 to 1933.)

Over a couple of beers, and with the Ohio State-Michigan game on TV (Ohio State won, 26-21), I asked him to give me his current thoughts on local sports.

On the NHL lockout: "What's the matter with the owners? They think they got leverage over the players? Like they were NFL team owners? They're idiots. The players can go off and play in Europe, and make lots o' money there. The owners are just shootin' themselves in the foot. And that can hurt. I know, my old buddy, retired cop Murray Greschler, did that once."

On the Knicks: "Boy, oh boy, I like the way the Knicks are playing. Carmelo Anthony is putting his ego in check, and the team is just cruising. I just hope nobody gets hurt. Knick players have a nasty habit of getting hurt at just the wrong time.

On what the Knicks mean to him: "I've covered the Knicks from the beginning, when the NBA began in 1946. I was the first Knicks beat writer for the Herald.  I loved covering basketball at the old Madison Square Garden. And when the new Garden really was the new Garden, it seemed so outta this world, and the Knicks were, too. You shoulda seen Walt Frazier back then. He was the coolest man in the galaxy, never mind the world. Even Joe Namath wasn't as cool as Frazier. I loved those Knicks. And, you know, they were a big thing to help get me through my recovery from cancer in 1993, with Ewing and Oakley and Starks. They really helped me bounce back. Them, and my old buddy, Felix Unger. Except the Knicks weren't hypochondriac neat freaks. And I never, ever heard Pat Riley honk with bad sinuses!"

On the Yankees: "Aw, you talk about Felix, that Derek Jeter reminds me of him. He's gotta be Mr. Perfect. And yet, sometimes I think Alex Rodriguez is more like Felix. All those, whatta ya call 'em, neuroses. A-Rod is ridiculous! All that money, and the Yankees can't hit in the postseason? What were they waiting for, an engraved invitation?"

On the Mets: "Let me tell you something, the Mets wish they had the Yankees' problems, and not their own! I coulda told ya from a mile away that Bernie Madoff was a no-good lousy bum! But Fred Wilpon? He couldn't see it. He always wants to see the good in people. But you gotta watch out, at all times. And now, the Mets can't see the Pennant from a mile away. They couldn't see the Pennant if they were in the Giants' new ballpark."

On the Jets: "You know, Mike, I read that piece you did on Rex Ryan, why you think he's failed. I'm not sure if he's the reason, or if the general manager, Mike Tannenbaum, is the real problem. But these Jets were so close to a Super Bowl, and they blew it. And now, they got no confidence. And it doesn't help that Darrelle Revis went out for most of the season with an injury. There's no way the Patriots woulda hung 49 on the Jets if he was out there. Maybe 35."

On Tim Tebow: "No. No way. He's not the answer. Unless the Jets are playing the University of Tennessee. Then, Tebow can win. He's not an NFL quarterback. He's not a guy with a million-dollar arm and a five-cent head. He's a guy with a minimum-wage arm and a five-cent head! And it ain't the religion, either. Terry Bradshaw talked about having faith all the time. He still does. And people thought he was dumb. But you know what? Terry got the job done. He had the skills. Tebow doesn't have Terry's skills, and he never will. No matter who the coach is. Firing Ryan and replacing him with somebody else isn't gonna turn Tebow into another Bradshaw, or another Steve Young, if you wanna use a lefty as an example, and a successful one. Firing Ryan might help Mark Sanchez, but it won't do squat for Tebow."

On college football: "I don't know much about college football. Ask me about college basketball."

On college basketball: "I think these kids who are doing the 'one and done' thing are hurting everybody. The NBA, 'cause they're gettin' there and they're not ready for it, so they end up sittin' on the bench, doin' nothin'. Their college teams, 'cause they get left in the lurch. Themselves, 'cause they're not getting the right training. And I'm not even talking about their time in class. I'm talking about listening to their coaches. You think Krzyzewski and Pitino and Calipari are teaching a kid everything he should know in one year? Baloney! Oh, that reminds me, I think I left a sandwich on the sofa. Or was it on my bed? No, that was a tuna fish sandwich on my bed. The baloney's definitely the one on the sofa."

You left two sandwiches out? Oh, Oscar, Oscar, Oscar...

"What are you, Felix's grandson?"

Well, one of my Grandpas was a bit of a neat freak. And a photographer. And a clothes horse. And a hypochondriac. But he liked sports, not opera. He and Felix probably wouldn't have gotten along.

"Yeah? Maybe I woulda liked him."

Oh yeah, you would've.

Just out of curiosity, Oscar, how did Felix die?

"You don't wanna know."

No, really, I do.

"Well, it was May 17, 2004. He was 84. He'd been slowing down for a while. Anyway, he lost his balance in the kitchen."

Yeah, that's right, he was a really good cook. So, what happened, he fell on his own knife?

"No. He was carrying a pot of gravy from the stove to the table. And when he lost his balance, he spilled the gravy all over himself."

You mean, he scalded himself to death?

"No! He got so angry at himself for spilling the gravy that he gave himself a heart attack. Boom, that was it.  No more Felix."

Felix died as the result of a mess that he made?

"Yeah. Talk about your irony."

*

In case you're wondering, I've been watching the DVDs of The Odd Couple. Felix was played by Tony Randall, who did die on the date in question, from pneumonia, resulting from heart bypass surgery. Oscar was played by Jack Klugman, whose own throat surgery and cancer recovery were written into The Odd Couple: Together Again, the 1993 TV-movie that was a sequel to the 1970-75 ABC series.

Oscar worked for the New York Herald. In real life, a paper by that name existed from 1835 to 1924, published by James Gordon Bennett Sr. and Jr. Its 1895 headquarters, across from the main Macy's store at the intersection of 34th Street, 6th Avenue and Broadway gave the intersection its name: Herald Square. That building was torn down in 1921.

When Bennett Jr. died in 1924, the sensationalist Herald was purchased by the far more sedate New York Tribune, and the resulting New York Herald-Tribune was one of the most admired papers of its time, the nation's leading mouthpiece of Northeastern-style liberal-to-moderate Republican politics, the kind espoused by New York State's Governor Nelson Rockefeller and U.S. Senators Kenneth Keating and Jacob Javits.

The 1962-63 New York newspaper strike doomed it (and also the broadsheets Journal-American and World-Telegram & Sun, and the tabloid Mirror), and on April 24, 1966, it published its final edition. But in 1968, its weekly New York magazine was revived, and is published under that name to this day.

The show's producers used the Herald name for their fictional paper because the real paper's former style seemed to fit Oscar's personality. (The New York Ledger, the tabloid shown on the current ABC series Castle, is also fictional.)

Tony Randall appeared on The Tonight Show more than any other performer, 105 times.

Jack Klugman is still alive, having turned 90 this past April 27. In fact, he is the only remaining one of the Twelve Angry Men from the 1957 film to still be alive. John Fiedler was the only other actor from that film to have also appeared on The Odd Couple.

Oddly enough, the show was not the first time Randall and Klugman had acted together: In 1955, when anthology series were all the rage on television, they both appeared on an episode of Appointment with Adventure.  In real life, they were great friends without, as the show's famed opening suggests, driving each other crazy.

All of Oscar's lines in this post are what I would imagine him saying, and are partly based on things Klugman said on the show.

And, no, I've never actually met Jack Klugman. Nor did I ever meet Tony Randall. I'm not sure I would have wanted to meet him. I don't carry a coaster. "Oh, rings, rings, rings!"

The DVD collection includes an appearance they made on The Mike Douglas Show to promote The Odd Couple, shortly after its 1970 debut. Turns out that Klugman was going bald, and wore a toupee for most of the show's run. That's why he was so often wearing a Mets cap: He didn't like wearing the toupee. But he wore one for his later series, the NBC crime/medical drama Quincy, M.E., so maybe he'd gotten a better one -- perhaps in consultation with Charles Nelson Reilly, who had a great hairpiece, and who was on Match Game with Klugman's then-wife, Brett Somers. (In fact, Jack was on the 1st episode of the 1970s revival of Match Game, on July 2, 1973, and occasionally appeared with Brett, although the nastiness that led to their breakup came through on the show.) Randall would also later appear on an NBC series, the sitcom Love, Sidney.

Here's a recent photo of Klugman.  In spite of his age, and surviving cancer nearly 20 years ago, he's doing fine.

UPDATE: Or so I thought. He died just a month after I posted this.

Top 10 Sports Odd Couples

On November 13, Felix Unger was asked to remove himself from his place of residence. That request came from his wife.

Deep down, he knew she was right. But he also knew that, one day, he would return to her.

With nowhere else to go, he appeared at the home of his friend, Oscar Madison. Several years earlier, Madison's wife had thrown him out, requesting that he never return.

Can two divorced men share an apartment without driving each other crazy?

That was the opening narration in the 1st couple of seasons of the TV version of The Odd Couple, a situation comedy based on Neil Simon's play. The play debuted on Broadway in 1965, with Art Carney as Felix and Walter Matthau as Oscar. (Simon said he wrote the Oscar part with Matthau in mind, but Matthau supposedly wanted to play Felix. It wouldn'’t have worked.)

In 1968, a film version was made, with Jack Lemmon playing Felix and Matthau again as Oscar. From 1970 to 1975, ABC aired the sitcom, and it has become next to impossible to imagine anyone but Tony Randall as Felix and anyone but Jack Klugman as Oscar – and while Randall went on to Love, Sidney and Klugman to Quincy, M.E., it has become equally difficult to imagine them in any other roles.

I have, however, seen 2 other productions of the stage version of The Odd Couple, one a high school play and one a professional from the "Plays In the Park" series at Roosevelt Park in Edison, New Jersey, and both were really good, especially considering that the high schoolers were playing middle-aged men. I really believed these 16, 17-year-old guys were Felix, Oscar, Murray, Speed and the others. (I also saw the "Plays In the Park" guys do a pretty good version of Grease, with a tricked-out golf-cart standing in for "Greased Lightning" the car.)

Now, the year that Gloria Unger asked Felix to hit the bricks has never been specified. But since the sitcom began in 1970, it could have been 1969. Which means it could have been 40 years ago today that Felix moved in with Oscar and the hilarity began to ensue.

Top 10 Odd Couples In Sports

These are all people in sports who, at least for a time, plied their trade together, but seemed opposites, and often feuded. In some cases they eventually made up, in some they did not.

The "Felix" character is listed first, the "Oscar" equivalent second.

10. Al Kaline and Denny McLain, Detroit Tigers, 1965 to 1970. Kaline has been Detroit's most popular living sports figure for over 50 years – more even than Gordie Howe and Steve Yzerman. For 5 years, McLain was a talented pitcher who tried to get away with a lot – but not everything they said he tried to get away with in Year 6.

Without McLain's remarkable 31-6 season in 1968, Kaline would have retired without appearing in a World Series. But McLain alienated so many of his teammates by his annus horribilis of 1970 that few had anything good to say about him when he was gone.

And even in 2007, when the twice-imprisoned McLain published his memoir I Told You I Wasn’t Perfect, he still took shots at Tiger teammates like Kaline, Bill Freehan and Mickey Lolich. Tug McGraw may have thrown the pitch and used it as the title of his first autobiography, but if there was ever a pitcher in baseball who was a true screwball, it was Denny McLain.

Mickey Stanley has to sit between McLain and Kaline.

9. Terrell Owens and Donovan McNabb, Philadelphia Eagles, 2004-05. McNabb is no slob, but in being willing to do whatever it takes, including risking injury, he is the Oscar here. T.O. is the Felix because he's so whiny and needy and has to have everything done his way.

They were only together for 2 seasons, and with injuries to both it added up to maybe 1 season's worth of games. But if you're an Eagles fan, it probably felt like longer. A lot longer. T.O. is the Buffalo Bills' problem as of this writing.

8. Julius Erving and Moses Malone, Philadelphia 76ers, 1982-86. Doctor J was the most stylish player in NBA history – on the court, anyway. (Off the court, even the Doctor couldn't touch Walt Frazier.) By comparison, Big Mo was, to use a hockey term, a grinder. He didn't play dirty, but he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. The Philadelphia 76ers reached the NBA Finals with Julius in 1977, 1980 and 1982, and the Conference Finals in 1981, but they couldn't get over the hump.

Philadelphia fans have often mocked the pretty boys of sports, and Dr. J was a rare exception. But the Sixers needed that blood-sweat-and-tears type to get them to the title. Andrew Toney was one, Bobby Jones was another, but Moses Malone was a special player. Few players have ever had the kind of season he had in 1982-83. Dr. J got his ring, but I hope he at least took Moses out for a nice dinner at Le Bec Fin afterwards.

Big Mo (left) was just what the Doctor (right) ordered.

7. Michael Jordan and Scottie Pippen, Chicago Bulls, 1987-98. I'm not sure I have to explain this one. I suppose I could list Shaquille O'Neal and Kobe Bryant – but they would both be "Felixes."

6. Punch Imlach and Frank Mahovlich, Toronto Maple Leafs, 1958-68. Punch (real name George) was the coach and general manager of the Toronto Maple Leafs team that won 4 Stanley Cups in 7 years from 1962 to 1967. Mahovlich, a.k.a. the Big M, was his best player.

In the NHL's official 75th Anniversary book, hockey historian Charles Wilkins wrote, "It has been postulated (by, among others, Frank himself) that Punch drove Frank nuts. It has also been postulated that Punch was one of the few people who understood Frank. It stands to reason that one extraterrestrial – one, albeit, from the opposite end of the galaxy – should understand another." For the record, Imlach was Toronto born and raised, while Mahovlich is from Timmins, Ontario.

Today, Mahovlich is with the Senators in Ottawa – but not the hockey team. He was appointed a member of the Canadian Senate. (Their government is a bit different from ours.)

5. Jerry Jones and Jimmy Johnson, Dallas Cowboys, 1989-94. True, Jimmy is quite fussy about his hair, but that's about it. And Felix would probably have found Jerry to be an incredibly crass, classless individual.

Well, let me put it this way: "New York class" and "Dallas class" are 2 very different things. Jerry is definitely the "Felix" here.

4. George Steinbrenner and Billy Martin, New York Yankees, off and on from 1975 to 1988. This might have been Number 1 if it could ever have lasted. Phil Pepe of the New York Daily News has compared it to Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton: When they were together, they couldn't stand one another; when they were apart, they missed each other terribly. Liz and Dick married and divorced twice, while the Boss and the Brat split up 5 times.

But they will be forever linked. Without George, Billy would never have managed the Yankees; without Billy, George might never have won a World Series. Actually, you could throw in Reggie Jackson and make this an Odd Trio, although there wasn't a comparable character in The Odd Couple to Mister October, despite several sports-connected figures having appeared.

Billy, George, Thurman Munson, Reggie.

Thurman is the only one not willing to smile.

3. Vince Lombardi and Paul Hornung, Green Bay Packers, 1959-67. Hornung was one of the greatest all-around football players who ever lived. Just ask him. Lombardi never bragged about his achievements, though they were legion. His greatest achievement may have been getting along with Hornung and getting him to make the most of his talent for the sake of his team.

Hornung, Bart Starr, Lombardi

2. Christy Mathewson and John McGraw, New York Giants, 1902-16. It doesn't seem right to list the player first and the manager second, but, in this case, the player was the Felix and the manager was the Oscar.

This was a total reverse of the Lombardi-Hornung relationship: McGraw was the short, nasty, profane, hot-tempered bastard, which makes him sound a lot like Lombardi, but Lombardi would never have cheated to win. McGraw, as a player, was proud of the corners he cut. (Literally: If he was on 1st base, and he thought the umpire wasn't looking, he'd run right across the infield to 3rd base without going for 2nd. He got away with it a few times in those days of just 1 umpire.)

By contrast, Mathewson was tall, handsome, and a superb all-around athlete like Hornung (his alma mater, Bucknell University, named its football stadium after him), but would have been totally out of place in a red-light district, never needed a curfew, and the only time he ever gambled was on checkers. (But he was a hustler at that game, and very good at it.)

The Little Napoleon and Big Six

McGraw used to say, "The main thing is to win," while Lombardi said, "Winning isn't everything, but it's the only thing." Still, I think Lombardi would have appreciated Mathewson more than McGraw. Hornung? Definitely would have liked McGraw better.

1. Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez, New York Yankees, 2004-present. Okay, maybe A-Rod isn't a slob, but his personal life, his contract issues and his on-field performance have often been quite messy. And Derek doesn't whine when a relationship ends. Or honk when things don't go his way. Then again, we don't know what he does when the cameras aren't on, do we?

But, as with the TV show – which ended in 1975 with Gloria taking Felix back and Oscar getting the 1049 Park Avenue apartment all to himself again – things have worked out.