Meeting of great minds? That leaves Clippers out

So I’m talking to my good buddy Don the other day and he says he’s going to the Super Bowl with Al Davis.

“So am I,” I tell him, “but I don’t think Al and I will be together.”

“Well, that’s because of your decision, and not because of Al’s decision or mine,” Don says, and for years Clippers owner Donald Sterling had a standing offer with Davis to invest $100 million in the Raiders, so he knows Al as well as anyone -- and he would know if Al wants to get together again.

It has been years since Al & I had a civil chat, Al pulling me aside the last time to give me “the scoop” on the Marcus Allen/O.J. Simpson/Nicole Brown Simpson relationship.

I told him I didn’t care, and then wrote about the hot dog slathered with yellow mustard he was eating, while talking and spitting like he does -- none of it landing on his white running suit.

He refused all future interviews after that, saying the same thing: “I can’t get that hot dog out of my mind.”

BUT NOW Al is going to be at the Super Bowl, and whoever thought that would happen again?

“I’m going to have lunch with Al,” Don says, along with Bulls owner Jerry Reinsdorf and Cowboys owner Jerry Jones.

“Am I invited too?”

Right away my good buddy Don says, “Yeah.” What a great chance to sit with four people and listen to one great sports mind explain what happened to the Cowboys this season.

I’m also thinking what to wear so I don’t clash with Al, which these days kind of rules out any of my USC stuff.

“You have to promise me you will only say nice things,” Don says, and I wonder if Mike Garrett and Don are related.

Almost immediately Don begins to backtrack.

“I’ve got to talk to everyone and see how everyone feels about this,” he says, as if they wouldn’t be thrilled to hear what’s going on with the Bagger. “The trouble is, you will want to provoke them.”

Now I happen to think Jones belongs in the Hall of Fame, and has been the voice of reason in dealing with the NFL void in L.A., and I have written all that, and Don says, “if you wrote that, then I think I can get you an invitation for lunch.”

“But I want to sit next to Al,” I say.

Don groans. “Oh, poor Al.”

DON TELLS me where he’s staying in Arizona, tells me to call him next week, and so I start making a list of all the dead people I know. There’s one thing that throws Al off his game besides football senility, and it’s hearing someone has died. He just falls apart, and so Georgia will be the perfect appetizer.

Then I run into my good buddy Don again. We had a nice chat Monday where he came off looking almost human. Talked to him again Wednesday night. He stormed into the Chick Hearn Press Room, angry and beside himself, which meant he almost trampled team President Andy Roeser, who never leaves Don’s side.

The Clippers were getting beaten, Coach Mike Dunleavy wasn’t playing rookie Al Thornton, and like I’d told Don a day earlier, he’s got to stop hanging around Davis so much because now he thinks he knows more than the coach.

At this point the Clippers’ PR guy, Joe Safety, says, “Do I have to say everything is off the record?”

Now that I’ve got the McCourts’ attention -- because they’re always looking for a PR guy looking to keep things from the public -- I can’t think of a better Dodgers PR guy than someone with the name “Safety.”

I tell Safety, “I’m not working.” I’m here because I’m trying to firm up my date with Don & Al. I’m worried it might conflict with the Super Bowl Chunky Soup news conference.

But I am also curious to know why Dunleavy lies to the media. Before the game Dunleavy tells reporters about his talk with Don earlier in the day.

“We had a good conversation,” Dunleavy tells the media -- a conversation that never took place.

Now I can picture Don talking to imaginary friends, but not Dunleavy. He prides himself on telling it like it is, or apparently how he imagines it.

I ask Don, why would Dunleavy lie? But since it’s off the record, I can’t tell you what Don says.

As usual Roeser is attached to Don’s hip, and although he’s usually not one to keep his mouth shut, he says nothing when I ask Don why Dunleavy might lie.

I would ask Elgin Baylor what he knows, but I think I already know the answer.

I leave the arena thinking Dunleavy is a liar, which he is. Instead of saying, “It’s my understanding, after talking to Roeser, everything is OK with Don,” he takes Roeser’s advice and makes it sound like he’s the one who talked to Don.

Given the chance to take Dunleavy off the hook while I’m standing there, and explain how he advised Dunleavy what to say, Roeser stays silent -- sticking a knife into Dunleavy’s back while letting Don and me think the coach is lying worse than he is lying.

“I’m not going to comment on it,” Roeser says when I call Saturday to ask why he left Dunleavy to get roasted.

And I thought The Times had management problems. When we don’t get along around here, at least someone gets fired.

I WANT to believe what Dunleavy says. Or Roeser, or anyone else with the Clippers. I don’t like the team’s chances for success with everyone inside working on their own agendas, but if they’re going to self-destruct, do so with integrity.

But it all starts at the top, and now my good buddy is telling me there’s a problem with the Super Bowl lunch.

One minute he’s saying “yeah,” you are invited, and since I’ve already taken a ride on Jones’ private plane, I would expect that.

Then things change, and Don is fibbing/saying, “I never said I’d invite you; I need to check,” getting back to me later to say he’s talked to Al, and Al has a real problem.

What Lane Kiffin has to do with lunch, I don’t know.

“It’s you,” Don says -- as if I can believe anything he says.

Until I hear it from Al at this week’s luncheon . . .

T.J. Simers can be reached at t.j.simers@latimes.com. To read previous columns by Simers, go to latimes.com/simers.