No. 1 Bama. No. 4 Auburn.
This video plays. The horizon explodes. Time ends.
War Eagle.
Auburn
21
Nov 13
I did not write about meetings
Coca-Cola is getting set to dump press releases. They’ve found something better. Brand journalism, of which I approve, as it can be a powerful tool when used correctly. As this Ragan piece demonstrates, there is a paradigm shift coming:
Perhaps you caught the story in Mashable, The Daily Mail, Adweek, or The Huffington Post.
Coca-Cola’s Singapore team designed a novel double can that
splits into two, so customers can share the fizzy beverage with a friend.Fantastic PR. But one major reason it got so much play was “because we covered it,” says Ashley Brown, who leads digital communications and social media for The Coca-Cola Company.
The rest of the piece is worth reading, do check it out if you are interested in journalism, public relations or marketing.
Here’s something of an example at Auburn:
Nosa Eguae just graduated with his first degree and his pursuing a second while finishing up his playing days terrorizing quarterbacks. The guy is 22, telling you the children are our future. Here you see him away from the field, the roaring crowd and the mixed life of a student/celebrity, like he is pretty much everywhere in town.
Auburn’s athletic department is putting considerable resources toward telling stories like this, humanizing the young man behind the face mask:
I shot that of him at an equestrian meet last year.
Every team has at least a handful or more of hardworking, successful on-and-off-the field people like Eguae. We should see more of the great stories our institutions are producing in the young men and women that attend there. This is one of the great victories a university can demonstrate to the world, after all.
(Samford does a good job of this, too. They have an incredibly strong social media presence and interaction with all of the university’s various stakeholders. Freshmen are published on the university’s home page. The athletes are widely accessible. There’s even a reality show being shot on campus by the students in our department. There are plans in place to expand on those efforts, too.)
Here is the other side of the “branded” coin. One must find the right balance of telling stories to your multiple audiences and working alongside the traditional (and nontraditional) media. No one has arrived at a formula for this, but you have to develop a deft touch. Otherwise, you might hear about it, as you’ll see in the first of these two quick links:
Photojournalists want better access to the White House
Obama’s Image Machine: Monopolistic Propaganda Funded by You
And, finally, this: When an artist allowed her 4-year-old daughter to finish her drawings, something awesome happened. Great art there.
And that’s enough for one night. I’m tuckered.
16
Nov 13
Georgia at Auburn
I’ve been to a lot of football games. I’ve been happy. I’ve been thrilled. I’ve been pleased and surprised and shocked. I’ve been sad. I’ve been numb. I’ve sat through a 3-8 season and a 3-9 season. I’ve watched the slow, inevitable loss of a game to a rival you can’t control because you know your side has no answer. I saw a juggernaut produce an undefeated season. I watched a championship unfold in front of hopeful, too-nervous-to-believe-it eyes.
This game was altogether different than any of those things.
In the first half you abused the other team’s defense, gashing them for 246 yards rushing when they allow about half that per game. You had a 20-point lead, but you’ve lost all of the momentum. In the second half, your defense begins hemorrhaging yards and points against an incredible comeback helmed by the most prolific scorer in the history of the conference. There are six minutes on the clock. You have a narrow lead.
And you go three and out on three pass attempts. Those kids had played too hard and did not deserve to lose, and that’s what the play calling set them up for.
Very frustrating.
And then you punt. An ill-timed shank gives Georgia, and the best scoring quarterback in the history of ever, the ball on your 45. They score. Now you’re behind with under two minutes to go. That sequence starts here.
But these boys have a bit of John Paul Jones in them. And, of course, the perfectly insensible and the divinely improbable happened at the end. This is Rod Bramblett’s radio call, which is instantly a thing of lore:
We had a great view of the final scoring play, standing directly over Nick Marshall’s shoulder. He threw the ball and it was instantly recognizable that the flight path of the ball and the line the boy in blue was taking were not to meet. Hope sank immediately. Then the bounce and the deflection through the unholy Georgia trinity and Ricardo Louis, immediately a living legend as a freshman, kept running. Turns out he turned his head in the last moment of a hummingbird’s heartbeat to find the ball as it fluttered near him.
I covered my mouth. “What the War Damn?”
Angels didn’t sing. They roared. Jordan-Hare Stadium, at the end of the night, was as loud as it has been in the last 20 years. The old Tiger decibel lights on the south end zone scoreboard would have surged, flickered, browned out, returned and exploded. They would have burst into fireballs and landed on the Georgia sideline. There would have been nothing else to it.
How do you react to that play? A heaved prayer that should have never been answered was addressed in most convincing fashion. It happened at the end of an equally inconceivable series of events too dense to unpack and process, even during the tediously long CBS commercial breaks. You saw those young men realize what the writer and philosopher Joseph Campbell meant about not “looking for the meaning of life as much as they are looking for the experience of being alive.” That’s what they found. I turned to the lady behind and said “We should hug.” And we all did, we hugged everyone, everywhere, mostly because we couldn’t hug Ricardo.
And, in the end, it was the somewhat-maligned defense that sealed the day. Dee Ford’s crushing fait accompli, a bruising blow to Georgia’s Aaron Murray, ended the game as the Bulldogs were looking to score while the final flickering filament in the scoreboard shifted from 00:01 to 00:00. Some of the people there rated it a two on the Rapture Scale. Some folks in the Southern endzone saw it as a three.
Despite the questionable play calls, and an officiating crew no one on the field liked, Auburn won tonight because they never quit. A team that was accused of that and worst last year, showed their moxie and their talent and their grit. They fought hard. As hard as any team we’ve cheered. If they hadn’t already satisfied the sports cliche, they learned how to win. Tonight they deserved it.
We reflected on all of this in the stadium. At the tailgate. Watching it again at home. We reflect on all of this each time we watch the Jordan-Prayer. Still not sure what we all saw. Still anxious about the outcome, even as I watch it a third or fourth time.
My in-laws were here for this game. They are 4-0 across four seasons. They’ve seen a homecoming, a conference game and a cupcake. Today the weather was perfect, the tailgating was amazing, the friends charming and they were there for the most breathtakingly incredible finish of the year, and perhaps in the history of the Deep South’s Oldest Rivalry.
Now what do I do for an encore?
Here are the game’s Auburn-centric highlights, with more calls from the great Rod Bramblett:
13
Nov 13
I ran a lot, let’s just leave it at that
Here are two extra photos from last week’s fall foliage kick. This tree probably won’t have anything left on its limbs the next time I see it. But it is flaring beautifully:
This, more about the sun and the darkness, really, is at my grandparents’ place. While I prefer the longer days like everyone else, we do get some great angles from the sun this time of year:
Elsewhere, I ran my first 10K tonight. I was going to run the usual five, but everything felt OK, so I kept going. When I got to five miles, my previous personal best, I decided I could press on to get the nice round kilometer number. And everything felt more or less OK.
And that continued until I stopped running and took a shower. After that it all seemed like a bad idea. Since then, through the night various and different parts have been achy. My feet and my knees. My feet and my quads. My feet and my calves. Always my feet.
Clearly I have room for improvement.
Things to read …
Which brings us to this, from the Wall Street Journal, that bastion of considerate opinion and coverage of serious issues: OK, You’re a Runner. Get Over It. Once upon a time, kids, the Journal did write about serious things. Promise. I suppose we should blame the Internet.
I learned new terms today: “Snowplow parents” and “teacups.”
This young woman was on track to graduate early. And then she had a bad car accident, with a traumatic brain injury. She had to learn to walk and talk and feed herself again. And then she went back to school and graduate. That’s the short version of a remarkable story. Now her brother is trying to raise money for continued therapy. Read about it, and please share that link.
My friend Jeremy from The War Eagle Reader recites the greatest story ever written about a college football game. Worth a listen for football fans:
5
Nov 13
42 is no longer the answer
And now a quick study in shutter speeds. This first moody shot was taken in bright, filtered morning sun at 1/4000th of a second at f/6.3. This would fall under the category of “Usually looks better in the camera’s LCD than on the computer screen:
Now, the same shot. Just a few heartbeats later, the composition altered only by the vagaries of imprecise body movement. Our subject is still in the bright, filtered morning sun. I shot this one at 1/400th of a second at f/6.3:
Mostly I’m amazed she stayed perfectly still for that, even at high shutter speeds.
Actually, she doesn’t mind the camera so much. She will not cast her countenance upon your phone, however. Every shot I’ve ever managed with the phone has been by some means of deception or another. And the camera is much larger and has the always-popular swaying strap.
Today’s study in autumn foliage is to the opposite side of the dogwood, where we can study the new buds, already present and patiently waiting for next year. Even if you grow maudlin at the passing into winter, there is always a sign of escape. Dogwoods, then, can be instrumental for your morale, should you need them.
The paper is happening as I write. Who knows where the paper is when you read this. The next newspaper could be happening. Next year’s staff could be happening over a newspaper next year. This could be printed in a paper at some later date when you read this. This could be the first thing anthropologists pull up when they figure out how to connect their power with ancient power supplies a few millennia from now.
Cats and leaves. Yes, great-great-great-great grandchildren, this is what we often did with the Internet at a slow moment. It truly was a marvelous time. Now come grab some of this hard candy before promptly getting off my lawn.
Spent the morning in the office, pecking away at things. Spent the afternoon in the library, pecking away at things. Spent the evening on The Editing Of Things. Now this, and then back to pecking and editing.
The thing I am editing is the upcoming family present project, which I have sort of alluded to here in passing from time to time. We are presenting the finished product this coming weekend, which means I am now finishing up the actual project. I’m ready for it to be done because I am anxious to deliver it because I am uncertain at how it will be received.
You always are, when you make something, aren’t you? How will this go over? It isn’t the same if you’re just buying a thing. Doesn’t fit? Wrong color? No problem. I have a receipt. What’s one trip to the store? To make something, to envision it, and to put in the effort, to visualize and re-visualize the finished version, to contextualize and add and subtract from the context of what it all means, to put it all together, hoping there are no typos or that everything is straight or accurate or the right color or under the proper protocol and on and on. It can get to you, if you are a crafty person.
My friend Kelly, who is easily one of the two or three craftiest people I know, agrees with me about this. You start out doing something, decide to do a nice thing for someone and then you introduce a little anxiety and stress about this nice thing … it is amazing, I think, that anyone ever makes anything for anyone.
But, then, I am not especially crafty.
I do, however, admire those that are. Even more so than I usually do. Which is why it is hard to let go of things people occasionally make for you. Which is why I always look forward to when the leaves turn because behind that comes cooler weather and that means I can dig out the awesome blanket that Kelly made me years ago. It is colorful and warm and sturdy and it was made with love.
Which I think will be the theme of the inevitable speech that will surely be given with this project this weekend. As it should be. That’s what it has been, an exercise in searching and exploring and persistence and assistance and, ultimately, love.
So, really, I’m down to the giving. With the giving comes some receiving, he said, staring off into the future, but also the past, while in the middle of The Editing Of Things.
I’m not a crafty person, but there are few things I’ve looked forward to giving so much as this. All will be revealed this weekend.
Today I learned that there are believed to be some 8.8 billion planets in our galaxy alone that fit in what we think of as the Goldilocks zone for life, as we know it. Tonight I got to use the expression “If your mother tells you she loves you, check it out.”
I always smile when I get to use one of the old journalism cliches — which are the only ones you needn’t avoid like the plague, it seems. Even more with this. Verify what you’re told, being the point. If an astronomer tells you there are 8.8 billion planets, any of which could support life, just roll with it. “And the people that live on two or three of those planets, at least, are made of cookie dough. Hey, we’re astronomers. What are you going to do?”
Some of that is just how we perceive and conceive things. Comedian Steven Wright said “Tell a man that there are 400 billion stars and he’ll believe you. Tell him a bench has wet paint and he has to touch it.” Whether or not you look up that quote probably says a lot about how you perceive and conceive reality and me in it. Whether he stole it from someone else, says a different thing.
But we all like cookie dough.
And that conversation right there, that’s probably how quantum physics or postmodernism or postmodern quantum physics got started.
Things to read …
Look how transparent Apple is and is not in this transparency report. And scroll to pages three and four to see tables demonstrating what your government is doing in your name. Compare that to other countries. Come up with your own observations.
This may be another perspective on something I’ve already linked to here, but I’m of the opinion that all of these perspectives matter. So let us Kirsten Berg’s thoughts on America’s Shackled Press:
Since its establishment by a group of American correspondents in 1981, the Committee to Protect Journalists has focused on defending the rights of its counterparts abroad, naming and shaming the most egregious offenses against press freedom around the world. Incarcerations in Iran. Crackdowns in China. Retaliations in Russia. Slayings in Syria.
But now, for the first time in its history, the CPJ said it felt compelled to commission a special report on its home country: The United States.
It’s an irony that is not lost on Joel Simon, the organization’s executive director. But, as he told an audience at the New America Foundation last Thursday, the recent actions taken by the Obama administration—from its aggressive pursuit of leakers to the campaign-like media relations firewall it erected to control the information that comes out of government agencies—led them to conclude that there had been a fundamental, chilling shift in the ability of journalists in this country to report the news.
This is the second of such features I’ve read recently. I like these stories. Doing good in the community, giving people confidence, meeting police officers and beating them up in the name of science? Good stuff. Lee County Sheriff’s Office offers class aimed at empowering women:
Alicia Cohill delivered one final blow to the aggressors and ran back to a cheering group of women.
“It’s exhilarating,” she said, catching her breath. “You kind of go to that place. Especially the last one, when you have to close your eyes and rely on touch. Once they grabbed me, it was automatic… It takes you out of your comfort zone. You just kick butt.”
While the women also learned grappling and quick escape techniques, Jones said the course is not just about physical self-defense.
“It is not a self-defense course, per se,” he said. “It is also about awareness, giving women the tools they need to avoid becoming a victim.”
Plus you get to wear the cool pads.
More here. If you are tempted to leave now, dear anthropologists of the future, please scroll on through. Our society’s answers to the meaning of life are hidden in these pages. Hint: It is the cookie dough.
