LOCAL ANGLES: SIMPSON, SANDBURG: ONLY ONE LOOKS TRULY RICH

I know, I know, I left sports behind, so why do I feel compelled to write about O.J. Simpson?

It's not really just O.J. Simpson I find fascinating. Actually it's the country's obsession with his every move. I must admit, I'm no different.

Each time he does or says something, or new evidence in the case turns up, it seems like we've got to know. USA Today is giving us television ratings on "the chase," Simpson's attempt to elude handcuffs by taking a 60-mile trek across the freeways of Los Angeles.

People were actually chanting "Go, Juice, Go" as the white Bronco made its way back to the driveway of Simpson's mansion.

Suddenly we know about Al Cowlings, O.J.'s longtime friend who was willing to commit a crime to keep Simpson from committing suicide.

We're wondering just how Simpson got a gun and what became of that weapon. And where is the murder weapon? Did someone actually see the crime take place?

We're taking polls. Did O.J. really murder his ex-wife and her friend? Was there anything going on between Nicole Simpson and Ronald Goldman? Perhaps they were just friends who became unwitting victims to O.J.'s jealousy and rage.

Some are saying The Juice was the real victim because he's being framed. Some are willing to sell their souls for a spot on prime-time television.

Regardless of what happens to Simpson, we learn something about ourselves by our very reaction and attention to the sad saga. We know that we're far more interested in knowing about a Hall of Famer's connection to a grisly murder than a baseball player who walked away from $15 million because he fell below his own standards of excellence.

Ryne Sandburg announced he could no longer wear a major league uniform because he just didn't have it anymore. This from someone who had the goods to merit Hall of Fame status and could have let the Cubs pay him on his reputation alone.

We called Sandburg's decision noble and curious. We paid tribute to one of the best second basemen to ever play the game. Then we quickly turned our attention to other matters of sport.

We probably feel more compelled to follow Simpson's ordeal than ponder the rare quality of someone who thought the game of baseball was bigger than him because we know more about violence than noble gestures. We have become more accustomed to deception and subterfuge than integrity and honesty.

We see violence every day. We read and hear about drive-by shootings and murders and child abuse. But we rarely see someone walk away from a fortune because it was the right thing to do.

We long for the day when we hit the jackpot, when we pick the lucky numbers that will change our life forever.

But we rarely talk about how good it felt to be complimented or to spend a compliment on a job well done.

I wish I could say that I would like to know more about Sandburg than Simpson, but the sad truth is that, like everyone else, I await the next day's news on O.J.

I can take some solace, however, in knowing which man is really rich.