Who would you pay to watch?

We used to come up with all manner of things to do to pass the many hours we spent in the press box at what was then known as Royals Stadium.

One night, Rick Gosselin, who now writes for a Dallas newspaper, came up with a question that was a pretty good for those in our chosen profession. "Who would you pay to watch?," he asked.

I have at times pondered that one and at the same time thought about those few players who are so good at what they do, you can watch them in lieu of what's going on around them. People throw the term "superstar" around these days to where they have cheapened the true meaning of it. Just to make it to the big leagues brings star status with it. Excelling at the sport, elevates it to superstardom.

But at times I'm the patient sort and have to be because the really special players don't come around that often. To me, a true superstar is a rare bird.

Look at basketball.

You can name all kinds of really great players, but I can think of only two whose mere presence created a certain electricity and all eyes remained riveted on them. The first was Pete Maravich. He'd routinely score 40 points for LSU in college and later in the NBA without the aid of the three-point goal. The entire front court was within his range and I'd love to purchase a "Pistol Pete" highlight film if one is available. The only other basketball player at that level was Michael Jordan. The two were not at all alike in style of play as Jordan somehow learned to defy gravity, which was the only thing that defeated Maravich.

To me, there was one football player like that. His name was and remains Joe Namath.

Not that I liked Namath all that much because he beat the Chiefs, which was something I often held against anyone who accomplished it, reserved mainly but not wholly to Oakland Raiders such as Marv Hubbard, Jim Otto, et al.

People talk about the ability of quarterbacks to run the two-minute offense but rarely take into consideration the personnel with which he is surrounded. Namath often had teammates of less than stellar ability.

His greatness was forever cemented into my mind on the afternoon of Sept. 15, 1968, as I sat in the press box at Kansas City Municipal Stadium for the second game of the season -- opponent the New York Jets.

The Jets led 20-19 in the fourth quarter when the Chiefs punted.

I think everyone in the stadium save one person figured the defense would hold and the Chiefs would get the ball back with time to kick the game-winning field goal.

It never happened as Namath executed one of the best drives I've ever witnessed with short passes and runs that produced short yardage and devoured the clock. When time expired the Jets still had the ball and Namath's Super Bowl III guarantee became a part of sports history. Had the Chiefs won that day, they would have finished the season at 13-1 and played the Jets for the AFL championship instead of the Raiders in what has always been known as the "Heidi Game" when no one got to see the Jets come back and defeat Oakland because NBC cut away for a telecast of Heidi that resulted in so many calls that the NBC switchboard burned out.But that's what made Namath great and something to watch.

It had been a while since baseball had produced such a player. But it has one now and his name is Albert Pujols, the guy the Kansas City scouts missed while he played high school baseball in nearby Fort Osage.

It has been a long time since I've seen a player with the clutch hitting ability of Pujols, the last being George Brett. When Pujols blasted the home run that kept the Cardinals alive for another game in their ill-fated pennant run, it was one of those dramatic moments that will live as long as baseball.

If you have not taken the time to watch Pujols play you have missed a treat. He is worth the price of admission.