I don’t think there’s any argument that former UCLA quarterback Cade McNown and your sincere Page 2 sports columnist are a pair of L.A.'s leading babe magnets, but to be accurate, there is one significant difference.

I was invited to attend a party at the Playboy Mansion last night to share sports stories with the Playmates, but McNown has been permanently banished from bunnyland.

That’s some handicap for a babe magnet, so I’m guessing he has already applied for one of those parking placards back in Chicago.

The fans in Chicago, of course, would like to get rid of McNown for some of the wayward passes he has thrown, but it’s the misguided ones he made earlier in the Playboy Mansion that have left him keyless.


I know this, no matter how much the twins Sandy and Mandy come on to me, I’m not going to offer to take them places they have never been before, because NFL and major league baseball rules strictly prohibit outsiders in the press box.

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McNOWN WASN’T SO strong. The way the story goes, he was a regular mansion visitor until he broke up the triplets--maybe the single biggest love tale in years. It seems McNown ran off with Brande, who along with Sandy and Mandy had been sharing Hugh Hefner.

It’s just Hef, to me, of course, but it seems McNown slipped Brande Roderick right from under the big guy’s robe, and took her to Mexico, and when he heard about it, he came flying out of his slippers.


“You should have been at the mansion when Hef found out about that,” said an e-mailer with enviable insight. “Since then, as you know, Brande went to Hawaii to appear on ‘Baywatch.’ But the whole McNown affair was the last straw with her and Hef. And Hef has barred McNown from the mansion.”

Well, I called Hef to verify that McNown had indeed been the hutch wrecker, and to find out if I had to buy pajamas.

As you can imagine, he was a little busy, but in addition to the invitation to party Wednesday night like there’s no deadline to ever worry about again, or a wife for that matter, he passed a message to me.

“From what you have told me, that wouldn’t be wrong,” a spokesman for Hefner said. “Hef didn’t want to dignify anything having to do with McNown by commenting on it himself, but he said to tell you he would certainly not stand in the way of using it, and I would consider that a confirmation of everything.”


I’m guessing the Playboy Channel also has been permanently scrambled on any TV that McNown owns.

“We have all kinds of guests at the mansion,” the spokesman said. “Sometimes we must cast someone out into the darkness of the night, the transgressions ranging from the trivial to the more serious.”

How much more serious can you get than leaving Hefner in his PJs with only Sandy and Mandy to keep him warm?

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McNOWN, MEANWHILE, IS working his way through the calendar, and for a guy who seems to have so much trouble finding the end zone, he seems to have no trouble scoring . . . dates with Playmates.

I’ve been told that Brande was Miss April, and after checking it out on the Internet because I’m a reporter and demand accuracy, yes, I remember her now.

McNown’s latest squeeze is a Miss January--only 10 months to go, and he gets my vote for the NFL Hall of Fame.

I wanted to run everything by McNown to be fair, of course, and talk about the way he stepped in front of Cleveland quarterback Tim Couch to intercept the affections of the 1999 playmate of the year, Heather Kozar--his latest play. I figured it was all true, because if there’s anybody who knows something about interceptions, it’s McNown.


But funny thing, a Bears’ spokesman said McNown would have no comment.

I’m persistent, though, so I went to “The Cade McNown Page” on the Web, which invites fans to message him.

“I just love this page,” said Megan in an e-mail. “It’s cute! I never noticed how much Cade’s ears stick out. I still think he’s a doll.”

I’ve seen that Dumbo look before when trying to interview him, but it never dawned on me it was the ears. I don’t want to say that I spent the ride to the Playboy Mansion tugging at my own ears, but you can’t knock success.


I figured I might as well use the Web to contact McNown, and while I probably shouldn’t have typed in “anyone who sacks McNown” when it asked for my favorite football player, I went ahead and left the following message: “I’ll be at the Playboy Mansion later tonight . . . you want me to see if Miss March or June are going to be available any time soon?”

Still haven’t heard back from him.

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DEACON JONES, BILLY Kilmer and Roman Gabriel were among the notables at Matteo’s Tuesday night for the release of Jennifer Allen’s book, “Fifth Quarter,” about her life with her father, George Allen.


In a tribute to Allen’s wife, Jones said, “I played for him, but I would not have married him. Let me tell you, George’s wife paid her dues.”

With the emphasis on Allen’s desire to win above most anything else, Gabriel recalled a story when Allen’s car came upon a funeral procession. Allen’s driver said, “The poor bastard is dead.” And Allen replied, “The poor bastard? He doesn’t have to think about ever losing again.”

Actor Dabney Coleman, who has Allen’s mannerisms and voice down pat, tried to pitch a movie on Allen’s life many years ago, but came away from his meeting with Allen urging him to coach again. He even had him lined up to coach at Virginia Military Institute, until VMI became concerned that it would be known as “George Allen University.”

When Allen was offered the Long Beach State job, Coleman was one of the first people Allen called.


“He’ll always be the ‘Coach’ to me,” Coleman said.

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TODAY’S LAST WORD might have come in an e-mail for all I know, but what do you want me to do, miss the party?

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T.J. Simers can be reached at his e-mail address: t.j.simers@latimes.com.