RUGator

When they hired him, I had my suspicions.

Sure, Ron Zook hadn’t been Steve Spurrier. But the hiring of Urban Meyer to replace Zook by the University of Florida in 2005 struck me as another episode of college football’s version of “Catch a Rising Star.”

Now, as an alumnus, I’m hearing (and seeing) some disturbing sounds (and sights) that might put me in line for a reprisal of the Yoda role.

To wit:

http://www.cbssports.com/columns/story/12585042/meyer-going-to-nfl-believe-it-numbskulls

My friend told me that Davey Lopes reminded him of me. Even as a die-hard Yankee fan, I thought that was cool.

I wrote to my coach and told him that this picture of Rutgers head football coach, Greg Schiano reminded me of him.

I saw this picture and it reminded me of how hard my heart was beating last night.

And then I saw this picture and was reminded that he’s only a freshman:

Here’s the New York Daily News perspective on last night’s ALCS game. For those who don’t live in the NY Metro area, the News has always been my “go to” sports section when it comes to the Yanks.

http://www.nydailynews.com/sports/baseball/yankees/2009/10/17/2009-10-17_new_york_yankees_los_angeles_angels.html

Look. I’m a Gator fan.

As such, it’s bred into you never to pull for Georgia. Yet, watching the Bulldogs lose to L.S.U. yesterday, had me thinking that they got screwed.

Big time.

After scoring the go ahead touchdown with just under two-minutes remaining in the game, they were assessed an “excessive celebration” penalty. Now, instead of having to kick off to L.S.U. from the 30 (as is customary after scoring), they had to kick from their own 15 yard line.

A decent return by the Tigers put them in field goal range. Down by two at this point, a FG would have won the game. As it so happened, they ended up running the ball in for a touchdown to win the game, crushing the spirits of those hardy fans packed into Georgia’s stately Sanford Stadium.

So now L.S.U., which went into the Georgia game ranked number 4, will host the number 1 Florida Gators this Saturday on CBS.

That excessive celebration penalty had to make the CBS sponsors (and God knows who else) very happy.

For me it’s about once a month.

And that’s enough.

A migraine headache and its curse.

They haunt me. Always just on the horizon. Lurking. Waiting to take a few days from me. Usually it’s some combination of lack of sleep, not eating the right foods in the right amounts at the right times, and changes in the weather.

Barometric fluctuations (usually from high pressure to low pressure, i.e., “good weather” to “bad weather”) are my nemeses. Today, in the northeast, I faced my body’s perfect storm.

So I came home from the golf course (where I caddy and don’t play), loopless after a five hour rain induced wait, with the onset of a migraine.

Into a hot shower (running the water via shower massage on my temples) and into bed.

Migraine sufferers know too well the other “pain” of these headaches. Trying to convince your beleaguered family that you’re again under its spell. They often just don’t understand. It’s so frustrating.

To myself (and after having to hear about “another headache” from mama bear), I mused, “What would I like to do on this fine day? Let’s see. Relax with my family and perhaps watch some football or crawl under the covers with ice on my head and my brain pounding away pleading for sleep? I think I’ll opt for the latter. Just because. Yeah, that’s what I’d rather do.”

And now, hours later, I feel as though I spent the previous night losing a quarters match with some 27 year old German Octoberfest guzzling triathlete named Sven.

Tomorrow the weather clears. But I’ll be forced to play catch up with this curse’s after effects.

This is what I’m talking about.

http://videos.nj.com/star-ledger/2009/04/phillipsburg_and_easton_replay.html

According to former Green Bay Packer great, Paul Hourning, there were two “times,” when playing for coach Vince Lombardi.

Regular time vs. “Lombardi Time.”

Regular time was what most people followed.

Lombardi Time was always fifteen minutes earlier. And it was adhered to by winners.

If a Packer meeting was scheduled to begin at 8:00 am, astute players would know to arrive and be ready to go at 7:45 am.

Every time.

http://www.amazon.com/WHEN-PRIDE-STILL-MATTERED-Lombardi/dp/0684844184

I don’t know what made me do it.

Never thought I had much in the cajones department. But I picked up the phone. A few times.

Goodman Stadium the home field of the Lehigh University Mountain Hawks (nee “Engineers”) and I’m reminded of a past life I had as a self-invented sports reporter. I thought I’d talk a little about this as a way to inspire some of you out there who want to do this sort of thing for a living.

For some time (a long time ago), I wrote and published my own college football newsletter. Because I couldn’t get anyone to actually pay for a subscription, I sent it out to anyone I could think of who I thought was even remotely interested in college football. Many of these folks were sports information directors at various universities and colleges. I was hoping to “get discovered.”

Well I was never actually “discovered,” but it did lead to some interesting and important relationships. Two of the individuals I “met” were the SIDs at both Lehigh and Lafayette College, located in Bethlehem, PA and Easton, PA respectively. These two gentlemen gave me the idea of requesting “press credentials” so I could attend games. I was dumbfounded. These guys were taking me seriously. I was legit in their eyes!

And so I did ask and I got them. Now what did this mean? What does it mean to have “press credentials?”

Guess I sort of had an old story on my mind. Goes like this: a baseball broadcaster calls the last out on his team’s unsuccessful season and breaks down crying. A colleague tries to comfort him. “It’s o.k. There’s always next year.” To which he replies, “Yeah, but what am I gonna do now? I  have to go home to my wife?”

“Hello, may I please speak to Bruce Johnson?” I asked the receptionist. For years I had listened to his calls of Rutgers football and basketball. RU had taken me in after I left my heart in Gainesville years earlier. He connected me.

An interview was set up. I was writing a college football newsletter and I wanted to learn about his game day preparation. “This was too easy.”
Speaking to him in his office that day reminded me that people are behind what we see on television and hear on the radio.

I’ll always remember him telling me, “Well it’s not brain surgery, but I won’t go antiquing with my wife on the day of a game.” “The best way to describe what it’s like in the booth is that you have to experience it first hand. Would you like to watch me do a game?”

You had to pinch me.

So there I was, in the pressbox for Rutgers against Virginia Tech on a rainy Saturday years before Rutgers became Greg Schiano’s Rutgers. In a dreadful downpour I watched and listened over Bruce’s shoulder as he broadcast that game. I learned that a “spotter” was a guy standing behind him pointing to the name’s of players making tackles and running plays so he could readily bring that information so smoothly to the listening fans. It gave me some ideas.

Press credentials are basically tickets to games which allow the recipient access to the “press box,” the sidelines (in the case of football), and the post-game press conferences. So once approved, the press credentials would arrive via mail along with a parking pass. This was house money, dawg!

Upon arrival at the game, I would make my way “into” the press box. THE press box. Talk about primo seats. There’d be a seat for me along with a name tag, boxed lunch, and whatever materials I needed to “cover” the game. I was in flipping sports nirvana! People get “paid” to do this?

These were experiences I’ll obviously never forget. But more importantly, they helped me build self-confidence (always a struggle for me), legitimized my writing ability (and perhaps myself?), and allowed me to develop a professional portfolio which I used as part of my teaching/writing resume.

Sitting around yesterday watching the Super Bowl with some friends from another life, I couldn’t help but think that we were nothing less than a collective bunch of Neros fiddling as the empire went up in flames.

The commercials, the tattoos, the booze, the gambling, the bacchanalia of it all, the dancing, the screaming, the talking-at-you-while-pretending-to-talk-WITH-you nature of small-town/small talk USA, the scantily clad, the chips, the dip, the taunting, the pointing, the cursing, and the uneasiness of the dark clouds just over head.

All that was missing were the vomitoriums.

Panem et circences, i.e., bread and circuses: the opiate for the masses.

You’ve ever gotten out of the shower and grabbed a tube of Aqua-Fresh toothpaste instead of Preparation H and discovered the mistake too late.

A fun night out is the kids sleeping over a friends house, your wife sleeping over her mother’s house, and a frozen pizza in the freezer.

You see nothing wrong with watching your dog go number two in sub-zero weather while you’re wearing your sleep shorts and eating a large Tootsie Roll.

You change the channel, quickly, while watching the Giants play and a commerical for Cialis, Viagra, and or Vimax comes on. Even if your kids are already asleep.

You’d rather sleep with your pets than your wife because they don’t snore as much.

You go shopping for Gold Bond Powder.

You can simultaneously make multiple school lunches, feed cats and dogs, get dressed, and brush your teeth.

Nova, The History Channel, and Bravo Network are more viable options than Girls Gone Wild 8.

You identify with the characters on iCarly, The Suite Life of Zack and Cody, and Zoey 101.

Coffee and Diet Coke are adult beverages.

You shave your ears.

Someone had to explain “Brazilian wax” to you. And it was a guy.

You think Akon is a nut eaten by squirrels.

You can find obscure items that belong to your kids but have no idea where you left your keys.

You think a Mazda 5 is a sports car because it has a number in its name.

You find your daughter’s iPod and can’t tell the difference between the names of the songs and the bands.

Late is after 10:00 pm and early is before 5:00 am.

and finally, for now, you don’t trust a fart.