I don't do confrontation well and I don't stand up for myself.
I'll avoid making a scene or getting into arguments at all costs. Unfortunately, it doesn't always work out. And when it doesn't, I sit and simmer and ponder and think about the whole thing. The things I wish I'd said. The possible scenarios-- how things could have played out. What would've happened if I'd done/said X. How I feel I'd have to watch my back if I did stand up.
Our society seems to thrive on conflict. Not constructive conflict that makes our world a better place, but silly, meaningless Jerry Springer-type stuff. I don't even do conflict on TV well. Conflict scenes in shows or movies? Can't do 'em. I guess I put myself in the position of the oppressed. Perhaps it has something to do with being in that position many times in the past.
Spending time dwelling on negative things is not healthy. I tense up and my temples tighten and I'm sure my blood pressure spikes. Not to mention the positive things or productive things or 'advance the ball' things I need to be focusing on. The negatives are all I can think about.
It's part of the ride-- you spend time around people and there will be differences. I understand that. It's the dealing I have trouble with. Even with things that happened 25 years ago. Even with something as small and trivial as what's in my head tonight.
So in the absence of coherent and organized thoughts, maybe getting this out in the open will be a catharsis somehow and help me figure things out.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Back to Work
Following last Wednesday's tornado, I had four consecutive days off. There was no work, since there was no way to get to the running store. The First Lady and I have spent some time volunteering at our church, though we both admit we can do more. There will be chances for us to pitch in.
But Monday, I went back to the store I started at-- basketball and children's shoes. Relearning where things are, since the stockroom had been reorganized. Though the two store are owned by the same people, working at each is vastly different. Pulled three shifts there-- Tuesday and Wednesday as well.
This morning, I opened the running store-- my first time back since about 3:45 the previous Wednesday afternoon. My first time going south of the campus since that storm cut a swath through my state and my city. Intersections were unrecognizable, vans on the wrong side of the street from the not-there-anymore restaurant, fractions and splinters of trees still standing, gas stations blown away... It was all amazing, in a way. That one single event could do this much damage.
But I also saw things to be encouraged by-- construction types and clean up crews on the job at 8:45 (though I'm sure they'd been there a while already), a major laundry detergent company setting up its free washing machines, battery companies setting things up, and more. People moving forward.
Elsewhere in the news...
I'm starting to get back into the running groove, after a minor injury. It's difficult to start back up after a break. Something about an object at rest tending to remain at rest. Working our way back slowly.
And the tornado also brought my spring semester at UA to a screeching halt. I had an accounting assignment due the next day, and a test scheduled this past Monday. Both were canceled, with students choosing to take the final or take their grade as of April 27. So after much gnashing of teeth, I took my B in Intro to Accounting and ran. And I'm also not giving up on this as a potential career path.
But Monday, I went back to the store I started at-- basketball and children's shoes. Relearning where things are, since the stockroom had been reorganized. Though the two store are owned by the same people, working at each is vastly different. Pulled three shifts there-- Tuesday and Wednesday as well.
This morning, I opened the running store-- my first time back since about 3:45 the previous Wednesday afternoon. My first time going south of the campus since that storm cut a swath through my state and my city. Intersections were unrecognizable, vans on the wrong side of the street from the not-there-anymore restaurant, fractions and splinters of trees still standing, gas stations blown away... It was all amazing, in a way. That one single event could do this much damage.
But I also saw things to be encouraged by-- construction types and clean up crews on the job at 8:45 (though I'm sure they'd been there a while already), a major laundry detergent company setting up its free washing machines, battery companies setting things up, and more. People moving forward.
Elsewhere in the news...
I'm starting to get back into the running groove, after a minor injury. It's difficult to start back up after a break. Something about an object at rest tending to remain at rest. Working our way back slowly.
And the tornado also brought my spring semester at UA to a screeching halt. I had an accounting assignment due the next day, and a test scheduled this past Monday. Both were canceled, with students choosing to take the final or take their grade as of April 27. So after much gnashing of teeth, I took my B in Intro to Accounting and ran. And I'm also not giving up on this as a potential career path.
Friday, April 29, 2011
One Was Too Many
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.
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.
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.
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