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The 1999 Grand Turkey Banquet has become the grandest of all, for there are two tasks: One, we must uphold the tradition of honoring the Turkey of the Year; and two, we must recognize our moment in history, by honoring the Turkeys of the Millennium.

There are so many Turkey statuettes to distribute today that the potential existed for a ceremony lasting longer than the Academy Awards. So, we have to go to speed-up rules here.

Concerning the 1999 Turkey: There were presentations made on behalf of several individuals who would have been considered for Turkey immortality, if this had been a normal year. The nominees included:

Dimitrius Underwood. The No. 1 draft choice showed up in Mankato wearing battle fatigues, saying he was ready to go to war, then lasted one practice with the Vikings.

Eugene Robinson. The veteran safety made it to the Super Bowl with Atlanta. On Saturday morning, he received a plaque honoring his work as a Christian athlete. That night, he was charged with soliciting sex from an undercover policewoman.

Richie Phillips. This union chief came up with the idea that all major league umpires should resign to increase job security.

Red McCombs. Buy a championship-caliber NFL team for $250 million less than an expansion team because your team has a lease in a low-revenue stadium, then complain about playing in a low-revenue stadium. That's our guy Red.

Stephon Marbury. He was offered the maximum salary by the Timberwolves but demanded a trade because he couldn't take being in the same locker room with a teammate, Kevin Garnett, making more.

These nominations were a formality. The winner was going to come from the Gophers basketball scandal. And so many from this ugly episode were worthy:

Alonzo Newby, the academic adviser who wanted money for the truth; Jan Gangelhoff, the tutor with a late-breaking conscience and an ever-changing story; Elayne Donahue, the spiteful head of academic counseling who didn't ask questions as Gangelhoff typed players' papers under her nose; Russ Archambault, the cheating, fighting, rules-breaking ex-player, and Mark Yudof, the self-serving university president who paid off the villain and ran off the "honorable men with integrity."

Still, when historians look back at the Turkeys at the end of another century, it would render the Turkey of the Year awards meaningless if the list read other than this:

1999 — Clem Haskins.

It seems the banquet crowd is getting restless. So, here to introduce the Turkeys of the Millennium is our master of ceremonies (and candidate), Mr. Sid Hartman. Roll 'em, Sid:

Chick Gandil. He was the first baseman for the 1919 Chicago White Sox. Gandil was the main contact with gamblers in fixing the World Series, then kept the money intended for five of his fellow "Black Sox," went to California and retired. We can take some local pride in Chick, a St. Paul native.

John Cox Stevens. He was the head of the New York Yacht Club in 1870. When his club was challenged by an English sailor for a racing cup, Stevens required the British vessel to sail against the entire New York YC fleet of 14 boats. This set the stage for another 130 years of cheating in the America's Cup races.

Bob Meusel. The Yankees' surly right fielder of the 1920s set a standard for noncooperation with fans and reporters that continues with ballplayers today. Late in his career, Meusel became more friendly, leading to the greatest sportswriting line ever, from Frank Graham: "He has learned to say hello, when it's time to say goodbye."

Arazi. Secretariat has appeared on most lists of the 20th Century's top athletes. The Turkey Committee figured it should have a horse, too, so we went with Arazi, the 2-year-old champion that went off as a 4-5 favorite in the 1992 Kentucky Derby and finished eighth.

Tonya Harding. She had her main figure-skating rival hit in the leg with a baton.