Wednesday, April 27 started with a bang. Loud thunder and a lot of lightning roused us from a cold sleep about 5 am. An hour and a half later, I woke up, sent my dear wife off to work and went out for a short 3.5 mile run. It was a nice morning-- just a little breeze a little humidity. My right Achilles had been bothering me (due to overtraining) and I was just starting to work my way back into shape. I also took note of power crews that were already out at 9 am cleaning up after the storm.
I then cleaned up and headed off to our prospective new home for final walk through, after which I headed off to The Athlete’s Foot in Midtown Village for my 12-4 shift. I passed through the intersection of McFarland and 15th street as I hit McDonalds. Since I’m starting to run up against time, I hit the drive through and head to work.
Now we’d known that the day would be eventful from a weather perspective, because of the advance warnings that technology gives us. We’d heard about the havoc this system caused in Arkansas, so it was hard to stay focused. Get a little work done, look at the radar. Work, radar. The wind started to blow more intently. Finally, the radio station we listen to ran EAS tones, signifying the start of the weather situation for the state of Alabama. My blood ran a little cold. Tuscaloosa had a brief tornado hit the southern parts of town a few weeks earlier, and we considered ourselves lucky.
About 3:15, the boss called. We discussed the situation, and he said he’d call back. Our stores will shut down if the weather’s nasty. Happened a few times back in December, with winter weather. A few minutes later, I got instructions to close the store. About 3:35, we’re out of there. My coworker Chris and I have no idea what’s coming. Just that there’s a southwest-to-northeast flow to these storms, and they seem to be gaining strength.
So I start home by turning onto McFarland from 15th street. The same intersection I used nearly four hours earlier. I call Ann, who is headed for a basement on campus at the University of Alabama. She asks me to join her. I readily agree. She is my wife and I want to be with her, but the place we’ll be is much safer than the second-floor bathroom in our apartment. I drive in on University Boulevard and notice that a giant tree has fallen on some power lines in front of a frat house that is under construction. Crews are on the scene. It’s close to 4 pm. Some traffic lights are still out, traffic is a little slow and I’m getting a little anxious, so I turn left onto Hackberry, in front of Canterbury Chapel, where we worship. I see college kids in flip flops, shorts and ball caps returning from class, at a somewhat leisurely pace. Meanwhile, the TV weatherman simulcasting on the car radio is not mincing words in saying that he hasn’t seen a storm like this in the 32 years he’s been on the job. Most times, they deliberately speak clearly and calmly so as not to alarm people unnecessarily. Not this time. James Spann is very stern in his warnings in that this storm has the chance to make history. The students I see seem to have no sense of urgency. I am incredulous.
I get parked and go meet my wife and we hunker down in the basement in Doster Hall at the University of Alabama, literally across the street from Bryant-Denny Stadium, where the Crimson Tide plays football. It’s a touch after 4 pm. We are happy to be together as we are joined by about ten other people, mostly students. It’s a pretty loose environment—we’re watching Spann online and we see the storm stay together and start to take aim on Tuscaloosa. More students join us, upping the total to about 25. We hear warnings on the campus-wide intercom—the first two or three tell of a tornado warning. The next… says a tornado is heading toward campus. The weatherman says it could be headed for the stadium. Swell. The vibe in the room becomes more serious. Then the lights go out, and along with the power, the intercom system is done. Ann and I start to hold hands. A few minutes later, we lose the wi-fi connection. So we’re literally in the dark and have no way of knowing what’s happening. Faces in the room are lit up as people use their phones to find out what’s going on.
Last word we had before wi-fi went out was that the tornado warning expired at 5:45. About six, we’re able to learn that the coast is evidently clear. We start to poke our heads outside and decide to head home. Though we have two cars, Ann and I go home together. On our way to the car, three students start to fill us in on what went down. The hospital and 15th street are torn up. The gravity of the situation creeps in. The store I left a few hours earlier is a half-mile away from sheer, complete and utter destruction. And there’s plenty of it.
We know not to go back up University, so we go home through downtown. All we see are some power outages and some small branches in the street. We get home to find out that we have electricity but not cable TV or Internet. But we do have our phones, and we do the Facebook and Twitter thing, telling the world of our safety, and starting to learn what happened, and the true gravity of the situation. This monster missed us by about 500 yards. Way too close for comfort.
We see pictures and some video. People dying. Widespread serious damage. Buildings demolished kind of damage. Serious damage to the McDonalds where I got my lunch. The tornado seemed to head east on 15th street. Restaurants and strip malls do not exist anymore. Places where we’ve eaten. The intersection I drove through twice earlier in the day is unrecognizable. I contact a few coworkers at the running store and learn of their safety. So we park on the couch and try to unwind and process.
Now Wednesday night is trivia night, and we initially decide we don’t want to go—the situation is too serious. However, we start to think that human contact is needed. Since the outage hit the bar where we play, we go to the store for provisions. Our friends call and invite us to their place for a spell. Salt of the earth, these friends of ours. We bring beer and pizza and crank the oven and at about 7:30 start to think about supper, when someone knocks at their door.
It’s a man and his wife and about six-year-old daughter. They can’t get to their home or car because of tornado damage, and got a ride to the neighborhood thinking they had some help lined up. When said help wasn’t home, they came here. The four of us don’t know who these people are—it could be anyone. But our friends did not hesitate to let them in. The man was trying to get in touch with his mother a little further up the road so they’d have a place to spend the night. I’m ashamed to say I spent a lot of the time in or near the kitchen, frightened of people I don’t know and what they might want. But my wife and my friends showed them much kindness, sharing our food and drinks and offering fellowship. Eventually, I warmed up and joined the crowd.
The gentleman contacted relatives, and soon, they were on their way. I wonder what kind of courage it took for him to knock on the door. He doesn’t know who’s on the other side, whether they’ll even be willing to help. So the four of us go on with our evening. And as we thought, we needed our friends. It was good for us. But this episode was very powerful for me—watching my friends display the love of Christ without hesitation.
About 11 that night, we went home to further decompress. Hanging out on Tweetdeck, and spending more time learning from the outside world what happened in my own backyard. An hour and a half later, Ann and I went to bed, becoming more and more thankful. We had each other, our health, and the tornado stayed south of the river. Nothing we own was damaged. But life as we know it will never be the same.
I find myself drawing parallels to the ice storm that hit Kansas in December 2007. Nasty stuff. Power outages, trees snapping in two under the weight of the ice, and ice-covered roads. My apartment had no issues. Heater worked, I had power and hot water and my automatic coffee maker came on every morning. I had it easy compared to folks who went to the armory for a shower. We have it pretty easy now, as well.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Playoff Hockey
Everyone seems to think that the NBA and NHL playoffs take too long. And in the case of hoops, I tend to agree. I'm not a real big NBA fan. But I do enjoy watching the NHL playoffs. I'm no expert, but I enjoy the intensity of two teams slugging it out for an entire best-of-seven series and shaking every hand of every opponent at series end.
The genesis of my love for hockey comes from the den in my childhood home in El Paso, from my living room in Levelland, and elsewhere along the way. ESPN was my only outlet for NHL in the mid-1980s, and they'd show every minute of every three and four-overtime playoff game. It didn't matter which teams played-- I couldn't get enough as a teenager. If we had company, I'd go be sociable with guests (and stay out of trouble) during the intermissions and then go back when play resumed. I found myself drawn to the desperation with which the two sides played. One goal. Sudden death. Somebody's season ends tonight.
I found myself drawn to the Calgary Flames in those days. I respect the hell out of Wayne Gretzky and those great Oilers teams, but I liked that Calgary seemingly gave as good as they got. The Cs even hoisted the Stanley Cup in Montreal in 1986, which is a big thing, given Montreal's tradition.
In Levelland in the late 1990s, The Dallas Stars were really good, after coming south from Minnesota. My good friend Sean and I would watch the game, he from his living room and I from mine. When the Stars scored, my phone would ring. I knew who it was, and as soon as I picked up the phone, I'd mimic the sound of the 'goal' foghorn, which Sean joined in on.
And living in Clay Center, I followed the Flames making it all the way to the Cup Finals in 2004, losing to Tampa Bay. I recorded game seven and watched it when I got home from church league softball.
So, needless to say, I love watching playoff hockey, and the stories and memories that are created. And my dear wife has been very patient as my hockey Jones is sated.
The genesis of my love for hockey comes from the den in my childhood home in El Paso, from my living room in Levelland, and elsewhere along the way. ESPN was my only outlet for NHL in the mid-1980s, and they'd show every minute of every three and four-overtime playoff game. It didn't matter which teams played-- I couldn't get enough as a teenager. If we had company, I'd go be sociable with guests (and stay out of trouble) during the intermissions and then go back when play resumed. I found myself drawn to the desperation with which the two sides played. One goal. Sudden death. Somebody's season ends tonight.
I found myself drawn to the Calgary Flames in those days. I respect the hell out of Wayne Gretzky and those great Oilers teams, but I liked that Calgary seemingly gave as good as they got. The Cs even hoisted the Stanley Cup in Montreal in 1986, which is a big thing, given Montreal's tradition.
In Levelland in the late 1990s, The Dallas Stars were really good, after coming south from Minnesota. My good friend Sean and I would watch the game, he from his living room and I from mine. When the Stars scored, my phone would ring. I knew who it was, and as soon as I picked up the phone, I'd mimic the sound of the 'goal' foghorn, which Sean joined in on.
And living in Clay Center, I followed the Flames making it all the way to the Cup Finals in 2004, losing to Tampa Bay. I recorded game seven and watched it when I got home from church league softball.
So, needless to say, I love watching playoff hockey, and the stories and memories that are created. And my dear wife has been very patient as my hockey Jones is sated.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Tornado Warning
The last two Mondays at the running store have included some type of severe weather. Mainly heavy rain and wind, but nothing too bad, even though the tornado sirens went active on Monday of this week. All we do is watch the rain and watch the radar, since very few customers come to a specialty store in that type of weather.
Friday was another severe weather day in Alabama. A little background: I was scheduled to cover my last Mountain Brook High School baseball game. I was out and about at noon, following class, and learned that schools in Tuscaloosa had already dismissed, and that all MBHS afternoon events were canceled, including my game.
So I had a rare afternoon off. Knowing something was coming, I watched the radar and saw the storms race across Mississippi and trigger storms in Tuscaloosa around 2:30 or so. I turned on the weather guy, one on TV and one online. I heard the warning sirens twice, and the weather wonks were talking about a twister heading my way, so I decided precautions were in order. I've seen damage in Cordell, Oklahoma and heard about it here as well as in Chapman, Kansas. So, respecting the storm, I fetched two couch pillows, my jacket, a blanket and UTEP football helmet all went to spend time in a second-floor bathtub. Yes, I put on a football helmet.
Thankfully nothing really came near our apartment, although apparently a tornado touched down for a bit in the south part of town. Some damage and no injuries. The TV types spoke of the storm heading to the east, so I went on with my day.
But storms raged eastward, and there was a lot more severe weather where that came from. The way I understand it, the meteorologist-types at the TV stations were on the air nonstop, from about 2:30 to 8 or so. This makes a lot of people upset, since they're missing ER or the ball game or whatever, and the weather doesn't affect them. Me? I used to work at a TV station, and I was (and still am) astonished at how people complained. I'm glad we have the technology that lets those guys spend all afternoon on the air.
And to be sure, we rag on those guys a lot. Even the guys on The Weather Channel seem to get pretty excited whenever there's nasty weather. I was even one of those guys for a few years, covering severe weather on the radio in North Central Kansas, and know how the adrenaline starts to flow. For me, it's all good fun. I like knowing, and I'm glad there are people with resources who want to tell me.
Friday was another severe weather day in Alabama. A little background: I was scheduled to cover my last Mountain Brook High School baseball game. I was out and about at noon, following class, and learned that schools in Tuscaloosa had already dismissed, and that all MBHS afternoon events were canceled, including my game.
So I had a rare afternoon off. Knowing something was coming, I watched the radar and saw the storms race across Mississippi and trigger storms in Tuscaloosa around 2:30 or so. I turned on the weather guy, one on TV and one online. I heard the warning sirens twice, and the weather wonks were talking about a twister heading my way, so I decided precautions were in order. I've seen damage in Cordell, Oklahoma and heard about it here as well as in Chapman, Kansas. So, respecting the storm, I fetched two couch pillows, my jacket, a blanket and UTEP football helmet all went to spend time in a second-floor bathtub. Yes, I put on a football helmet.
Thankfully nothing really came near our apartment, although apparently a tornado touched down for a bit in the south part of town. Some damage and no injuries. The TV types spoke of the storm heading to the east, so I went on with my day.
But storms raged eastward, and there was a lot more severe weather where that came from. The way I understand it, the meteorologist-types at the TV stations were on the air nonstop, from about 2:30 to 8 or so. This makes a lot of people upset, since they're missing ER or the ball game or whatever, and the weather doesn't affect them. Me? I used to work at a TV station, and I was (and still am) astonished at how people complained. I'm glad we have the technology that lets those guys spend all afternoon on the air.
And to be sure, we rag on those guys a lot. Even the guys on The Weather Channel seem to get pretty excited whenever there's nasty weather. I was even one of those guys for a few years, covering severe weather on the radio in North Central Kansas, and know how the adrenaline starts to flow. For me, it's all good fun. I like knowing, and I'm glad there are people with resources who want to tell me.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Running Store
I've returned from an eight-hour shift at The Athlete's Foot. My store is one of four owned by the company, and is specifically a running-oriented store. Shoes, apparel, fuel, advice, etc. I've worked for the company for 4 1/2 months, and at my store about six weeks, at about 35 or so hours a week. I like working there. The people are nice, and I get to meet a lot of cool folks and help them pick out a good pair of running shoes.
In January 2002, I found a new radio job and moved to Clay Center, Kansas, following an unsuccessful five-month stint in Northwest Oklahoma. But that's another show. My new coworker invited me up to the middle school to play a little basketball with some friends of his. Rocky was very kind to me in this way, and in making sure I met a lot of people and getting me out there.
But as far as the hoops was concerned, I never was very good, and hadn't really played since playing at 'The Park' with my friends, and infrequently at that. But I went anyhow, and soon found out I couldn't get up and down the floor without gasping for air. Full court, side courts-- it didn't matter.
That night was a night I remember, because it inspired me to work a little harder to get into shape. I tried the stair master and stationary bike, but I never saw the results there that I saw when I ran. I got into shape and could run well, but didn't really lose a lot of weight. When Ann and I got married and I started to eat (a lot) better, the weight really came off.
So I love running and like getting a chance to help others do the same. I've been on a bit of a hiatus because of a little tendinitis in my Achilles tendon, and will be back on the roads myself here in a day or two. I'm ready.
In January 2002, I found a new radio job and moved to Clay Center, Kansas, following an unsuccessful five-month stint in Northwest Oklahoma. But that's another show. My new coworker invited me up to the middle school to play a little basketball with some friends of his. Rocky was very kind to me in this way, and in making sure I met a lot of people and getting me out there.
But as far as the hoops was concerned, I never was very good, and hadn't really played since playing at 'The Park' with my friends, and infrequently at that. But I went anyhow, and soon found out I couldn't get up and down the floor without gasping for air. Full court, side courts-- it didn't matter.
That night was a night I remember, because it inspired me to work a little harder to get into shape. I tried the stair master and stationary bike, but I never saw the results there that I saw when I ran. I got into shape and could run well, but didn't really lose a lot of weight. When Ann and I got married and I started to eat (a lot) better, the weight really came off.
So I love running and like getting a chance to help others do the same. I've been on a bit of a hiatus because of a little tendinitis in my Achilles tendon, and will be back on the roads myself here in a day or two. I'm ready.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Story time: football
For three seasons, 1998-9 and 2000, it was my treat to cover Levelland High School ball games. Football, baseball and hoops. Our station also covered some games involving area teams. Earlier, I promised to tell some ball stories, and here are a few more.
I want to say the first event took place in 1998. LHS at Andrews, home of Shaud Williams and the Andrews Mustangs. Shaud would eventually sign as a running back with Texas Tech with Spike Dykes, then leave when Mike Leach came to town. He eventually wound up at Alabama, and I've been able to play that card a few times, telling the locals in Tuscaloosa that I got to see him way back when.
Anyhow, anyone who knows me knows that I'm chronically 15 minutes late for everything, including games. And at the station where I started out as half of the full-time staff, I was now the full-time staff. So I never had enough hours in the day. Not a good combination for someone like me.
On this night, I was strangely ahead of schedule, and arrived at a good hour to get ready for the Friday night broadcast. I found a booth, which seemed rather spacious, and started to set up. My control board, legal pads, dry-erase markers, all ready. Everything in its place. I felt good about the upcoming broadcast.
Then the Andrews broadcast team showed up and proceeded to tell me that I had set up in their booth. Swell. It was four against one, and it was *their* home, so I had to pick up and move to a broom closet of a broadcast booth, where things were suddenly much more cramped, and my broadcast partner, Mel Gierhart and I were basically shoulder to shoulder. And I ran about 75 feet of cord for my crowd mic, and the closest place to put it was the entrance to the press box, where we heard the crowd, sure, but everybody coming and going.
So I kind of felt like a moron. It's one of those things I wish I could do over.
As for the game, Andrews took the opening kickoff and absolutely drilled the clock, taking the opening possession down the field for a touchdown, taking ten minutes off the clock, enroute to a 35-7 win over Levelland. I don't remember the number, but I'm sure Shaud Williams had a nice game.
One other quick story. LHS played Estacado on a Thursday, due to field availability. So that left an open Friday for us, which we filled with a broadcast of Sundown at Hale Center. Roughnecks vs. Owls. I don't really recall much about this week 10 matchup, other than seeing a great friend from college at the game. Jacky married his college sweetheart and moved to Midland, where he was on the coaching staff at Lee High School, helping with the first steps of the football career of some guy named Cedric Benson. But by now, I think he was coaching at Greenwood HS, and was up for a scouting trip, since the playoffs started next week.
Anyhow, he poked his head in the window and scared the crap out of me, which was (and still is) completely in character. I responded by threatening to put him on the air at halftime. I believe Sundown beat Hale Center and made the postseason. We did the SHS game the next week, at Denver City, where they lost a lead late and fell in the first round.
So-- that's all for Woodrow's Tales From the Broadcast Booth. More to follow.
I want to say the first event took place in 1998. LHS at Andrews, home of Shaud Williams and the Andrews Mustangs. Shaud would eventually sign as a running back with Texas Tech with Spike Dykes, then leave when Mike Leach came to town. He eventually wound up at Alabama, and I've been able to play that card a few times, telling the locals in Tuscaloosa that I got to see him way back when.
Anyhow, anyone who knows me knows that I'm chronically 15 minutes late for everything, including games. And at the station where I started out as half of the full-time staff, I was now the full-time staff. So I never had enough hours in the day. Not a good combination for someone like me.
On this night, I was strangely ahead of schedule, and arrived at a good hour to get ready for the Friday night broadcast. I found a booth, which seemed rather spacious, and started to set up. My control board, legal pads, dry-erase markers, all ready. Everything in its place. I felt good about the upcoming broadcast.
Then the Andrews broadcast team showed up and proceeded to tell me that I had set up in their booth. Swell. It was four against one, and it was *their* home, so I had to pick up and move to a broom closet of a broadcast booth, where things were suddenly much more cramped, and my broadcast partner, Mel Gierhart and I were basically shoulder to shoulder. And I ran about 75 feet of cord for my crowd mic, and the closest place to put it was the entrance to the press box, where we heard the crowd, sure, but everybody coming and going.
So I kind of felt like a moron. It's one of those things I wish I could do over.
As for the game, Andrews took the opening kickoff and absolutely drilled the clock, taking the opening possession down the field for a touchdown, taking ten minutes off the clock, enroute to a 35-7 win over Levelland. I don't remember the number, but I'm sure Shaud Williams had a nice game.
One other quick story. LHS played Estacado on a Thursday, due to field availability. So that left an open Friday for us, which we filled with a broadcast of Sundown at Hale Center. Roughnecks vs. Owls. I don't really recall much about this week 10 matchup, other than seeing a great friend from college at the game. Jacky married his college sweetheart and moved to Midland, where he was on the coaching staff at Lee High School, helping with the first steps of the football career of some guy named Cedric Benson. But by now, I think he was coaching at Greenwood HS, and was up for a scouting trip, since the playoffs started next week.
Anyhow, he poked his head in the window and scared the crap out of me, which was (and still is) completely in character. I responded by threatening to put him on the air at halftime. I believe Sundown beat Hale Center and made the postseason. We did the SHS game the next week, at Denver City, where they lost a lead late and fell in the first round.
So-- that's all for Woodrow's Tales From the Broadcast Booth. More to follow.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Podcasts
I'm taking an intro to accounting class at the University of Alabama, Tuesdays and Thursdays. 9:30 and 12:30. I'm enrolled in one class but not the other. I started the spring semester taking two classes and working two jobs, which left very little time to spend on schoolwork or with my wife. The first casualty was Calculus I, nearly two months ago.
So there became a void, which I filled by finding an accounting class to sit in on, hoping to pick things up a little faster. And it was on the way to this class that I heard a Writer's Almanac podcast by Garrison Keillor (yes, *that* Garrison Keillor). He briefly discussed a writer, Donald Barthelme, who said to write what you're afraid of.
I've not been able to find anything that could expand on the meaning behind that phrase, but I did find meaning in it.
Because while I feel I've carved out a bit of a niche for myself in Alabama and have more of a sense of stability these days (in contrast to the months following our move to Tuscaloosa), I still look around and wonder what direction to choose. Accounting doesn't feel like it. I've picked up a little work doing high school hoops and baseball for some folks around here, but I've been ready to make broadcasting a second option for a while now.
So I'm searching for something. I don't really know what to look for or where I'll find it. I just know I'm trying to get out there and learn things and meet people and see what happens. Maybe that's what frightens me. The unknown. Fear of what I could find. Fear of how I perceive myself and how I blend into the world, and how that perception hinders my progress.
I don't really know if any of this makes sense, as it's more of a spontaneous post today, but these are the things I think on-- it's how I feel and where I'm at right now.
So there became a void, which I filled by finding an accounting class to sit in on, hoping to pick things up a little faster. And it was on the way to this class that I heard a Writer's Almanac podcast by Garrison Keillor (yes, *that* Garrison Keillor). He briefly discussed a writer, Donald Barthelme, who said to write what you're afraid of.
I've not been able to find anything that could expand on the meaning behind that phrase, but I did find meaning in it.
Because while I feel I've carved out a bit of a niche for myself in Alabama and have more of a sense of stability these days (in contrast to the months following our move to Tuscaloosa), I still look around and wonder what direction to choose. Accounting doesn't feel like it. I've picked up a little work doing high school hoops and baseball for some folks around here, but I've been ready to make broadcasting a second option for a while now.
So I'm searching for something. I don't really know what to look for or where I'll find it. I just know I'm trying to get out there and learn things and meet people and see what happens. Maybe that's what frightens me. The unknown. Fear of what I could find. Fear of how I perceive myself and how I blend into the world, and how that perception hinders my progress.
I don't really know if any of this makes sense, as it's more of a spontaneous post today, but these are the things I think on-- it's how I feel and where I'm at right now.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Yeah, yeah.
Okay, so it's been three months since I posted here. Really busy around here, and much to catch up on. Work, school, basketball, baseball, etc. Hopefully I'll get to it all.
But that third day in New York for the my inaugural K-State bowl trip was as awesome as the previous two. We walked from our Chelsea hotel with some of Ann's friends (she knows someone everywhere, it seems). Cafe Martinique (just off Broadway, between 31st and 32nd), followed by a brief trip to a snow and icy Central Park, and then off to the Bronx for pre-game.
The bar the KSU types had reserved apparently got a better offer from the Syracuse crowd, so we were adrift for beer. Went to the bar next door, which still had orange, just not as much. Drank a beer and then went to the Hard Rock Cafe, which is attached to the stade. And from the 'small world' department, we ran into a high school football coaching buddy from Kansas (he coached at Linn and just completed a run to the state finals with Hill City), as well as some folks from Randolph, KS, who were also wearing purple. Then I sang a verse of Wildcat Victory in the ticket line. And my dear wife, who sings with a group in town, a double KSU graduate, who got props from the AD, jumped in at the very end. That's it.
But we somehow made it to Monument Park and to our seats in time to see the K-State band do their pre-game thing. I watch their youtube video regularly, and to see them in person was music to my eyes and ears. We sat down the right-field line, at about midfield. The field was way the hell out there. But we had a great time. We even had some magic potion to help keep us warm during the game. It wasn't nasty cold, but cold enough to cut through you if you're sitting in it for four hours.
The element of the game that will be remembered most was 'the salute.' Adrian Hilburn scored a KSU touchdown late in the game to bring us to within two points (sadly, our defense also made the trip) at 36-34. Adrian's a military brat and thought it'd be a nice idea to salute the K-State partisans in the end zone seats. A game official decided he was cold and wanted to go home, so he flagged us 15 yards for unsportsmanlike conduct. I missed it live, and didn't see the replay, but I did see it on TV afterward. I also saw no fewer than three celebrations during the Tennessee-North Carolina game that were worse, and also weren't called. So yeah, I thought (and will always think) that we got screwed. Ann and I couldn't really commiserate together, since we were enjoying things so much. We weren't gonna let that ruin our fun.
The next morning, we walked around the neighborhood, since we had time to kill before our plane left. School was out at General Theological Seminary, so the few folks that were there let us have the run of the place. Not as memorable as Trinity Church, but we visited the sanctuary where they've trained and ordained priests since 1817, including our own parish priest at Canterbury, Tuscaloosa. We also wore purple this day, and ran into a local couple who remembered the salute from the night before, and pretty much were in agreeance. Then a quick stop at Starbucks (they grow em on street corners in NY) and back to the hotel to gather up and go home.
Again, our flights were on time. We had no issues whatsoever. Our travel was so hassle free, we almost, *almost* felt bad for the folks who didn't make it. The rain in Alabama was something to contend with, and was the only weather-related issue for us. We made it home about 8 that night, and settled in for New Year's Eve. On the couch, together. A couple of homebodies, we didn't care if we didn't go out. We'd had our fun. What a trip.
But that third day in New York for the my inaugural K-State bowl trip was as awesome as the previous two. We walked from our Chelsea hotel with some of Ann's friends (she knows someone everywhere, it seems). Cafe Martinique (just off Broadway, between 31st and 32nd), followed by a brief trip to a snow and icy Central Park, and then off to the Bronx for pre-game.
The bar the KSU types had reserved apparently got a better offer from the Syracuse crowd, so we were adrift for beer. Went to the bar next door, which still had orange, just not as much. Drank a beer and then went to the Hard Rock Cafe, which is attached to the stade. And from the 'small world' department, we ran into a high school football coaching buddy from Kansas (he coached at Linn and just completed a run to the state finals with Hill City), as well as some folks from Randolph, KS, who were also wearing purple. Then I sang a verse of Wildcat Victory in the ticket line. And my dear wife, who sings with a group in town, a double KSU graduate, who got props from the AD, jumped in at the very end. That's it.
But we somehow made it to Monument Park and to our seats in time to see the K-State band do their pre-game thing. I watch their youtube video regularly, and to see them in person was music to my eyes and ears. We sat down the right-field line, at about midfield. The field was way the hell out there. But we had a great time. We even had some magic potion to help keep us warm during the game. It wasn't nasty cold, but cold enough to cut through you if you're sitting in it for four hours.
The element of the game that will be remembered most was 'the salute.' Adrian Hilburn scored a KSU touchdown late in the game to bring us to within two points (sadly, our defense also made the trip) at 36-34. Adrian's a military brat and thought it'd be a nice idea to salute the K-State partisans in the end zone seats. A game official decided he was cold and wanted to go home, so he flagged us 15 yards for unsportsmanlike conduct. I missed it live, and didn't see the replay, but I did see it on TV afterward. I also saw no fewer than three celebrations during the Tennessee-North Carolina game that were worse, and also weren't called. So yeah, I thought (and will always think) that we got screwed. Ann and I couldn't really commiserate together, since we were enjoying things so much. We weren't gonna let that ruin our fun.
The next morning, we walked around the neighborhood, since we had time to kill before our plane left. School was out at General Theological Seminary, so the few folks that were there let us have the run of the place. Not as memorable as Trinity Church, but we visited the sanctuary where they've trained and ordained priests since 1817, including our own parish priest at Canterbury, Tuscaloosa. We also wore purple this day, and ran into a local couple who remembered the salute from the night before, and pretty much were in agreeance. Then a quick stop at Starbucks (they grow em on street corners in NY) and back to the hotel to gather up and go home.
Again, our flights were on time. We had no issues whatsoever. Our travel was so hassle free, we almost, *almost* felt bad for the folks who didn't make it. The rain in Alabama was something to contend with, and was the only weather-related issue for us. We made it home about 8 that night, and settled in for New Year's Eve. On the couch, together. A couple of homebodies, we didn't care if we didn't go out. We'd had our fun. What a trip.
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