football


21
Jan 12

The Joe Paterno story

This looks like a great classroom exercise. I’ve been compiling the chronology of events worth pointing out to young scribes.

There are no winners there, no successes or celebrations. Just a few giant errors and important lessons.

I have a note out for Devon Edwards, the profoundly upset former managing editor of OnwardState, a student-run news outlet. (Read his Twitter account and you can’t help but feel for the guy. I’ve also written Adam Jacobi, the CBS writer who passed along what OnwardState reported. Hopefully they’ll reply to add a bit more perspective and give some insight into what went wrong and what can be learned from the experience.


18
Jan 12

Just the links

Don’t spend too much time trying to understand what is going on here, just let it soak all in. The first thing you’ll want to notice is how great Kirk Sampson is in dealing with the media. Good thing, that’s his job and all. The second thing is how ESPN, CBS et al fall all over themselves to … fall all over themselves.

That link is a selection of the emails Sampson fielded from media during the 2010 Auburn national championship and manufactured Cam Newton scandal. Deadspin asked for the emails, and the forensic analysis began the moment the university complied:

ESPN’s Joe Schad and Sampson have the following exchange in which the former pronounces himself “so jacked,” pimps his own Twitter feed, and generally expresses himself in such a way that it’s difficult to tell the reporter from the flack.

[…]

Our scare-quoting TV person is back, still determined to show Cam Newton taking his “softer side” for a spin around a local elementary school. He writes: “Possible pitch to Cam: When people see ‘high-profile’ folks giving back, it might encourage them to do the same….” (And thus did the flack get flacked.)

I shared a joke with a friend of mine, a prominent journalism professor, that he was close to mistaking sports reporting for journalism. Universities — intent on controlling their message and protecting their student-athletes — need to control their message, and generally do a great job of it. It is surprising they don’t go it alone more often. Consider: they have a devoted audience, multi-million dollar TV deals and the same dissemination tools as you or I. And yet there is always ESPN, playing kingmaker and empire destroyer almost within the same series of emails.

Deadspin may have captured the moment perfectly in two sentences. “This is how sports scandals unfold now. ESPN creates and amplifies the controversy from which ESPN alone can provide the safe haven.” The local guys were far more decent about the thing.

Read that link. It will all make sense.

I’m so glad this expression has become acceptable for use in headlines. The comments, as a joy, are the state’s pride and treasure.

We often talk about juxtaposition in a news design sense. This is now the best example ever. It was discovered by Napo, former classmate of mine, who went on to be a great designer and program developer.

This is better than it sounds:

It’s quite easy, really. You don’t even need any heavy equipment. In 1988 the Ostry family in Nebraska wanted to move their barn to higher ground.

Ostry’s son Mike showed his father some calculations. He had counted the individual boards and timbers in the barn and estimated that the barn weighed approximately 16,640 pounds. He also estimated that a steel grid needed to move the barn would add another 3,150 pounds, bringing the total weight to just under 10 tons.

The next step is to gather about 350 of your best friends and invite them to come lift your barn. The video shows the result.

They should show that video at team-building conferences.

Almost two dozen years ago 344 men and women moved that barn by hand. I wonder how the building and the family are doing these days.


11
Jan 12

You still have to lick envelopes?

I sent letters today. Actual correspondence. With stamps and everything!

Now I’m exhausted.

I also had to prepare new copies of my transcripts for the dean at Samford. Once upon a time you walked into an office or made a phone call and started the process. These days, of course, it is all online. Also, this costs money. I have three colleges to send away to, so it costs a few bucks.

Interestingly the price varies. It seems my grades at one school are more valuable than the other two.

So, to review, you pay tuition to have the privilege to go to classes. You earn your grades. You pay to graduate. Years later, you must pay again, to retrieve the grades you earned.

Terrific scam.

One of my schools charged $11. Another $12. Another $15. The third-party firms will ship an electronic version of your grades, a PDF, which will self-destruct after three views. Printed “allowed.” Copying? Not allowed.

Linky things: Somebody had to do it, may as well be John Archibald, writing the “if only everything else were as important here as football” column:

And never, ever, accept mistakes you could correct.

Alabamians — Alabama and Auburn fans alike — accept no less from their football teams. It’s amazing what they accept off the field.

Alabama was fourth-worst in the nation last year in robberies, and fifth-worst in murders, according to CQ Press.

It ranked in the bottom five in overall health last year, according to the United Health Foundation. It was 49th in obesity, infant mortality and premature deaths.

The state was 47th in teaching math and science, according to the American Institute of Physics.

It was in the bottom 10 in traffic fatalities per vehicle mile, in poverty rates and energy consumption per person, according to the census.

Alabama is not No. 1. Unless you count our highest-in-the-country rate of diabetes.

If life in Alabama were football, somebody would be fired.

Alabama’s last daughter of the confederacy has died. Someone in the comments of the last daughter story says that her father was 81 when she was born. Apparently they have pictures, too. One presumes of sometime after her birth. She is survived by, among others, her brother, who is the last surviving son of the confederacy.

That’s a lot to wrap your mind around, but then the last Civil War widow died just eight years ago.

State of the Media: This is from Vocus, a media software firm:

152 papers ceased operations in 2011. Of the papers that closed, not one major daily went under—the first year since 2009 that a top-tier paper didn’t shut down.

[…]

(T)here were a total of 195 magazine launches in 2011 with the unveiling of new consumer titles taking a modest hit.

[…]

(O)nline streaming of television shows and newscasts continued to increase.

[…]

(T)raditional radio continued to prove it’s a survivor, despite evidence that the majority of people prefer to get their news elsewhere. In all four quarters, reports showed growth in radio listenership.

Vocus’ full, optimistic, report will be out later this month.


9
Jan 12

Steamy January Monday

Went downtown to take pictures of a building today. It was a darkly overcast and muggy 69 degrees.

There was a rumor that the name of a restaurant was changing. It would have been one of those generational, epochal turning moments. One crowd would understand the now 40-year-old reference, but it didn’t stick with the younger set in quiet the same way. Institutions can only be institutions until the paying crowd asks for an explanation. And that’s a chilling moment for a merchant. If you have a clever spelling but it is misinterpreted, people may start going across the street.

Or that would have been the thinking. And thinking like that in a college town is important, especially when you’re dealing with timely cultural references. But this particular restaurant was not changing their name. They were just painting their facade. And, also, they’d hung a new sign referencing another, newer cultural touchstone. But they were not renaming the place.

You could see the confusion, however. New paint, new temporary sign, updated context.

“We may,” the guy said “name the porch that though.”

No you won’t, because that makes even less sense.

So there was that.

Got to play with a friend’s two daughters. The youngest is just a smile machine. She also likes her jumper contraption, the lowest setting of which she has outgrown as of today. His oldest daughter is in elementary school and is a budding entrepreneur. She planned out a lemonade standing, a hot chocolate stand and a petting sitting service all in on conversation. Meanwhile her younger sister was chattering and banging plastic things together and always bouncing. The older girl never missed a beat. It was remarkable, and just a little bit exhausting.

Otherwise just computer things and housework, which interrupted the computer things. Did some laundry. Discovered a hazard.

It seems the vent from the dryer had come disconnected. It was a little too hot and dryer-like standing in the laundry room. Look behind the thing and, yep, there’s a great big silver hose going nowhere while the dryer is happily spinning away.

So I turn it off. Pull out the washer and dryer. Unplug it. The outlet is covered in condensation.

If there’s one place you don’t want condensation it is on your fine wood furniture. But if there are two places you don’t want condensation it is on your fine wood furniture and glass tabletops. And if there are three places you don’t want condensation it your fine wood furniture, glass tabletops and electrical outlets.

Dry that off, clean the floor, connect the vent and count my blessings. Only thing could I get back to the laundry.

And the rest of the day was tinkering on the computer, Chinese food and the big game, which was only slightly riveting. But, hey, that’s a Monday for ya.


6
Jan 12

An ode to some pickles

Updated and edited my vita, which was a job that was past due.

Rode 25 miles on my bike, enjoying the beautiful January afternoon. The afternoon was the best part about it. It’s going to take three or five good long rides to start getting my form back. My only complaint about riding is that just when I hit my stride events overcome me. Something will come up to preoccupy me for too long and all that hard work is undone.

Around finals I had a nice 45 mile ride and just started to get back into a good pace and comfort level. Then I got sick for a week and change, and then there were 10 days of holiday travels.

So this week has been a return to square one. (I’m not a very good cyclist.)

Visited the library this evening. Thought I’d do a little historical research. This is an issue of the 1914 Orange and Blue, Auburn’s student paper that preceded The Plainsman:

Orange and Blue

Note the championship-wining football team’s headline. The story included this argument for facemasks:

Babe Taylor, Auburn warrior, and by the way, Birmingham-bred, displayed a vast amount of gameness yesterday afternoon. In the early part of the first quarter someone, unthoughtedly of course, kicked in the upper section of Babe’s face, in the neighborhood of the left eye. Babe’s face wore an expression of agony and the blood trickled down his features in doublequick time, but he stood by the fort and played a grand game of football.

Sixty percent of the front page is devoted to football, which happened pretty regularly, even in 1914. Note, also, that the band played Touchdown Auburn, which was a tune that pre-dated Jim Fyffe’s famous call by many decades. There’s a note that students from Alabama telegraphed their congratulations on the championship — you have to wonder what their angle was.

There’s a poem on the right hand side, a dream of a beautiful young woman, and “An Ode to some Pickles.”

Upon a night long ago
Three fellows sat at ease
And tried to soothe their inner man
With pickles and with cheese.

The cheese, by nature yellow,
Met quick and sure defeat;
But the unassuming pickles
Were very green and sweet.

The eats were good and everything
Seemed lovely for a while —
Till a feaster’s flesh, turned wan and pale
In the middle of a smile.

His face began to shudder,
A twitch and then a jerk;
We looked at him and realized
The pickles were at work!

A private, and not especially good, joke 97 years ago was published in a newspaper. And you’re reading it today. None of this would have been conceivable to the poet who wrote those lines.

Didn’t find what I was looking for — though I have a feeling I’m getting close — so I’ll have to go back. No problem there, the old microfilms are great fun.