Ron Kantowski sees the possibilities for the South Point arena with former Orleans Arena director Steve Stallworth in the mix

Friday, June 27, 2008 | 2 a.m.

It was Tuesday, Steve Stallworth’s seventh day on the job as the new general manager of the South Point Equestrian Complex and Arena, and he still was unloading keepsakes acquired over a career spent in sports — and the sports business — from a big plastic tub.

A mini Oakland Raiders helmet, a game ball signed by Frank Kush and the old Arizona State Sun Devils, an official West Coast Conference basketball ... to paraphrase the late, great George Carlin, Stallworth was having trouble finding a place for his stuff.

“I’ve got six tubs of this stuff,” said the former UNLV quarterback, who spent the past five years attracting first-class sports and myriad other events to the Orleans Arena as its first director.

You’ve heard about cramming 10 pounds of ... stuff ... into a five-pound bag? Well, Stallworth’s first task on his new job is going to be cramming six tubs of personal ... stuff ... into what looks to be a two-tub office.

In a way, that also sums up his new gig. Whereas the Orleans, with its permanent seating capacity of 7,773, is a six-tub arena capable of hosting diverse events from ice hockey to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir (now there are two entities you don’t often see in the same sentence), the South Point Equestrian Complex, with its 4,400 oversize seats, is a two-tub arena built solely for things that go whinny in the night.

At least for now.

“You know, we could do basketball in here if we had to,” Stallworth said as he surveyed the arena’s dirt floor, which was meticulously manicured in the manner of the infield at Yankee Stadium. At the other end of the building, a solitary worker was methodically making her way down the wide aisles, dusting seats.

You normally don’t think of rodeo arenas as being neat and clean, but those were the words that popped into mind upon seeing the two-year-old facility for the first time. I also should have expected it. It’s owned by the same guy who used to own the well-appointed Orleans Arena — and the hotel-casino connected to it.

Together, Michael Gaughan and Steve Stallworth transformed the Orleans Arena from an idea on a cocktail napkin into one of the nation’s premier midsized sports and entertainment venues. So when his old boss called — for the third or fourth time — with an offer of a nice paycheck and a new challenge, Stallworth finally caved.

Did somebody say challenge? When you consider the guy Stallworth succeeded as UNLV’s starting quarterback was Randall Cunningham, getting a few thousand Roy Rogers-types to mosey up to the South Point arena should be a walk in the park — er, corral.

Although being reunited with his old boss sounded enticing, Stallworth said at first he didn’t think he was the right man for the job.

He told Gaughan he didn’t know anything about the equestrian business.

“Michael said, ‘That’s OK, you don’t know anything about hockey, either,’ ” Stallworth said, alluding to the Las Vegas Wranglers, the chief tenant of the Orleans Arena.

“He was right. I’m from Yuma. What do I know about hockey?”

We were still tooling around the giant barns under the South Point in a golf cart. These barns are so vast that you almost need a golf cart and directions from Wilbur Post to get around them. They are climate controlled — Big Brown and his pals would just love this place — and there’s room for 1,200 stalls.

Perhaps Stallworth should change his name to “Stallsworth.”

The coolest thing — besides the temperature — about the barns is that you can drive a horse trailer straight into them, and if you want, a bellman will meet you at your stall and take your saddlebags to your room.

Randall Cunningham could throw a football from the entrance to the barns to the entrance to the casino. It would probably take Stallworth three downs. But the incongruity of having a world-class barn not more than a football field from a world-class casino takes a little while to get used to. This is especially true when the air filtration system goes into hibernation mode.

As for his previous job, Stallworth is proud of what he accomplished in five years. He said the Orleans Arena is in good hands with Darren Davis, one of his former assistants, and that he left a lot of signed multiyear contracts in his top desk drawer.

Like Gaughan, Stallworth is long on people skills, so I couldn’t get him to say anything negative about the people from the Boyd Gaming Group he reported to. Maybe if you held a gun to his head you could get him to admit he didn’t like having to clear everything with four guys wearing tailored suits. But I couldn’t find a gun, not even a rusty six-shooter in Saturday Night, the honky-tonk that sits above the South Point equestrian center like steer horns on a Cadillac.

On Tuesday, I met Stallworth for lunch in the South Point coffee shop. By the time he’d ordered an Arnold Palmer — iced tea and lemonade — Michael Gaughan had joined us. Followed by his posse.

For the next two hours, Gaughan and his “board of directors,” comprised mostly of his old friends and college pals, carried on an animated conversation, adding at least two or three words to the seven that George Carlin said you can never say on television.

It was fun listening to them chew the fat, although not literally, because Gaughan has lost 60 pounds and mostly chews on NutriSystem products these days.

There were eight men around the table. Only two were wearing ties. Stallworth’s shirt was open at the collar and there was a thin layer of dust on his shoes.

I think he’s gonna like this place.

Read Ron Kantowski’s blog, “Now and Then.”