MOMENTS, MEMORIES and MADNESS with STEVE CAMERON: Cigars used to be nothing to blow smoke at

The topic today is cigars.

Well, not cigars specifically, but the photos that accompany my columns — the shots that recently have/have not shown me with a cigar.

You’ve just about broken all records for emails, with strong opinions on whether a shot in which I’m smoking a cigar seems like a good idea for publication.

I had no idea my silly little picture would urge so many people to write.

NOTE: When I say, “broken all records,” I’m not including all the votes cast three years ago for your 10 favorite songs of the previous half-century. That one was a blockbuster.

And in case you don’t remember, the No. 1 song chosen by our readers was “Unchained Melody,” by the Righteous Brothers.

That awesome ballad was released in 1965, and only one song on the final list debuted within two decades of our poll (“My Heart Will Go On,” Celine Dion, 1997).

I didn’t include that note about your favorite songs (or, at least, the songs that moved you enough to include on a ballot) just to congratulate you all for participating — although I was, and still am, thrilled that you made it such a success.

No, the other point here has to do with these Sunday “Memories” sports columns.

In fact, this is the important one.

Cigars and sports simply belonged together — at least for journalists covering various events, or while banging out a follow-up story in your hotel room.

Or, uh, just about any time.

And almost anywhere.

IT’S VERY obvious I’ve been in sports journalism for quite a while — I mean, I’ve written about Lou Piniella in his playing days with Kansas City — so there are plenty of clues.

So, clearly, I’m in that age group where I can augment my handsome paycheck from The Press with a nice little addition from Social Security (the minimum age is 62).

Now, that brings us back to cigars.

Assuming that I don’t have a quarter-million readers who just graduated from college (pretty unlikely), I’m guessing that an awful lot of you remember an age when cigars occupied a completely different place in society.

For a good portion of my professional life, dining at a classy restaurant meant several courses, then a post-meal cognac (or similar type of sipping liquor).

As soon as that drink was served, a waiter would come to the table with a box of VERY fine — and quite expensive — cigars, giving each of the gentlemen present a chance to pick out a favorite.

NOW, I’M not talking about the rare upscale establishment.

Almost all decent restaurants offered top-quality cigars for your post-meal pleasure.

Imagine your favorite restaurant filled with cigar smoke.

It seems unthinkable now, but back in the day it was very, very common.

Cigars were not considered poor form by the general public.

Winston Churchill was almost NEVER photographed without a cigar, and he lived to age 90.

The summary here: An awful lot of men in my age group spent years enjoying cigars — and honestly, although I only get to smoke a quality cigar occasionally (on the golf course, at the Bulldog Lounge), I still love the experience.

So how, you ask, does all this tie in with sports?

Well, it’s a wonder how any reporters for many of my years in the business could see any game action clearly, since almost every press box was downright blurry from all the smoke.

Of all the cities I visited regularly, Chicago comes right to mind as a place where, if a reporter (almost all were men in those days) did NOT have a cigar while covering any outdoor game, he might as well have been naked.

PLENTY of athletes smoked cigars — some when celebrating a great game, and some pretty much celebrating life in general.

In other words, all the time.

My favorite cigar aficionado was former Cleveland and Boston pitcher Luis Tiant.

“El Tiante” was popular with players on opposing teams, as well as his own.

Occasionally, he’d pop into the other team’s clubhouse, gold chains rattling, massive cigar filling the room with smoke, hugging everyone — including staff, media and anyone who happened to be available.

Side note: I think Tiant should be in the Hall of Fame, but maybe I’m just a tad biased. He’s come close on a few occasions, though, so I’m not dreaming up his 229 wins or other accomplishments.

Tiant was hardly the only cigar smoker in Major League Baseball.

There were fewer in the NFL (unless you count staff and the media), almost certainly because football teams are run like military units – so cigars would have been considered a breach of rules.

I can imagine Vince Lombardi smoking a cigar during the routine victory parties at his house, but surely he never allowed his players to have the same pleasure.

I THINK my favorite story about cigars and sports came during the final weekend of the 1972 NFL season.

My role that year was to cover both the Kansas City Royals and the Chiefs.

The Royals, just in their third year of existence, had taken a step back after winning 85 games in 1971 — but the town could overlook the disappointing baseball season because the Chiefs were opening their gleaming new Arrowhead Stadium in early fall.

Instead of non-stop excitement, though, the Chiefs lost their first three games at Arrowhead, were out of playoff contention far earlier than expected, and owned a desultory 7-6 record when they went to Atlanta for the last game of the ’72 season.

Now, Chiefs public relations execs Bob Sprenger and Doug (Radar) Kelly always handed out giant cigars to each member of the Kansas City media.

The plan was always the same, and it involved lighting up right at kickoff, in what had become something of a ceremony.

When about a dozen reporters fired up these monstrous cigars in Atlanta, though, the smoke was briefly so thick that some security officers on the field thought the press box had caught fire.

Cue the sirens.

Cue firemen with hoses and axes bursting into the media area.

Cue chaos.

WHEN THE Falcons’ team authorities discovered it was only a few guys with cigars, they thought it had to be impossible.

But hey, those cigars — which the PR guys called “gamers,” were gigantic.

And brother, they were common.

By the way, that otherwise meaningless game (neither team had a shot at the playoffs) had a highlight besides our fire drill.

Falcons running back Dave Hampton was shooting for a thousand-yard season, and he got to 1,002 midway through the fourth quarter.

The game was stopped so the game ball could be saved, the Falcons all gathered around to celebrate with Hampton, etc.

But then…

Hampton later got trapped on a sweep, lost seven yards and suddenly was back at 995.

Atlanta coach Norm Van Brocklin — one of the surliest individuals in sports — never let Hampton carry the ball again, and the crowd booed every play.

Fans threw objects at Norm when the Falcons were escaping to the locker room.

Madness.

Time to light ‘em up, lads!

Email: scameron@cdapress.com

Steve Cameron’s “Cheap Seats” columns appear in The Press on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. “Moments, Memories and Madness,” his reminiscences from several decades as a sports journalist, runs each Sunday.

Steve also writes Zags Tracker, a commentary on Gonzaga basketball, once per month during the offseason.