Shameless real estate shill David Lereah is trading in his cheerleader's uniform for a business suit.  The chief economist for the National Association of Realtors will become an executive VP with Move Inc., which operates real estate related web sites. 

    You wouldn't think a bland economist could inspire blog sites devoted to him, but Lereah's unremitting words of love about the market fed the bubble, many believe, and people needed places to vent.  No fewer than four times did he predict the bottom of the housing market.  The business media enabled the guy by going to him as if he were real estate's equivalent of Mariano Rivera (for those who don't follow baseball, Rivera is the relief pitcher who closes games for the New York Yankees).

    I first caught Lereah's act four years ago when he shared the stage for a panel discussion about real estate on CNBC.  I didn't know him from a one-iron, but he sounded as if he were reading from a press release issued by the realtor's assocation.  I didn't trust him from the gitgo, but there were probably others who made some bad buying decisions based on his Pollyanna predictions.  Good riddance. 

    According to today's Wall Street Journal, Lereah's parting words were unusually candid:  "I represented realtors so I tried to be as positive as I could," adding that he "believed it [i.e. his own hype]."  Lets hope the NAR can do better than deceptive and dumb in their next hire. 

 

    When was the last time we read about a professional golfer drinking and driving his car into a tree?  The baddest boy the PGA tour can offer is John Daly, whose flaws seemed to give the tour a more human face, not a nastier one.  And how great it is that Daly seems on a strong reformation kick lately.

    Growing up, my favorite golfer was Champagne Tony Lema, but I don't remember Lema wrecking any cars (I do remember he drank a lot of champagne, though).   

    I thought of Champagne Tony today.  If you read the U.S. sports pages, you know that St. Louis Cardinals relief pitcher Josh Hancock was killed in a tragic car accident in the early morning hours a few days ago.  He was a well-respected and well-liked young man (too young).  In the days that followed his death, the media respectfully did not speculate about what caused the one-car accident.  But the media can be respectful only so long.  Today the specter of alcohol looms large in follow-up reports. (He ran into a tow truck with its warning lights blazing, so where's the surprise?)       

    Baseball has its alcohol and steroids problems and football has its convicted murderers.  And if we totaled up the number of children across the land that are carrying the DNA of their absentee NBA basketball player dads, we'd probably fill a small city (Heck, Wilt Chamberlain did that himself!).     

    Golf, on the other hand, is a game played by gentlemen whose adherence to the game's intricate set of rules and regulations is almost anal-retentive.  These are not perfect men by any means, but their flaws seem almost quaint compared with those of other professional athletes.  I loved playing all sports as a kid, especially the "major" ones but, on balance, I'm grateful my son is a golfer.