Utility Infielder, post 2/25/09

The relocation of Utility Infielder

Job search: Mission Accomplished. I'd hang a sign off a ship, but it's been done.

So to find future Utility Infielder posts, go to my new workplace, TX.CoachesAid.com. I promise to blog more often (OK, it's a job requirement).

Thanks to everyone for their support during the unemployment phase. And please check out the new Web site. CoachesAid.com Texas

Writers write

The title of this post is sage advice that's been passed along to me more than once since the Express-News decided it was better off without me.

So I am. Writing, that is.

I have become part of a couple of Web sites that should keep me plenty busy.

• Examiner.com: This is an interesting site blending news and current events and what  have you, using correspondents from major cities all over the country. The San Antonio part is still getting up to speed, but is growing fast. 

When I sent in my application, the reply made me do a double-take. It came from Gregory Hunt (aka Greg), a Reagan High School graduate and editor of the Radar (the school newspaper) who was a freshman when I was a senior (and was kicked off the Radar staff while serving as editor, but that's another story).

Anyway, I decided against being the Spurs Examiner because ... well, I just don't care about the Spurs that much. I follow them in a cursory fashion at best. Instead, I chose UTSA because a) it's a Division I school, whether it acts like one or not; b) I've always preferred college sports to pro; and c) the addition of football makes the whole athletics program more exciting.

So follow along as I update here.

• College Football Explorer:  A fellow UT alumnus, Bert Hancock, set this history-oriented site up, and I loved it at first sight. I messaged him that he was "doing what I should have done. Excellent so far." He replied that he was open to "combining abilities and interests."

So we've been in contact recently, and I've sent him a story on the day in 1934 that Texas and Rice put the Southwest Conference on the national map by beating, respectively, Notre Dame and Purdue on the road. 

While I know I'm mainly writing this blog for my own amusement, I encourage anyone else who stumbles upon it to check out these two sites. And, yes, Web hits do matter, especially regarding Examiner.com.

Un(bleep)ingbelievable

Texas 3, Boston College 2.

25 innings.

7 hours, 3 minutes.

Longest baseball game in NCAA history -- postseason, regular season, whatever.

Austin Wood: 13 IP in relief -- he's the CLOSER, for cryin' out loud -- 2 hits, 14 Ks. No hits allowed in his first 12⅓ IP. 

Texas had 20 hits ... and went 23 innings between runs. 

See post title. I am still shaking my head.

Connor Rowe scored the go-ahead run after reaching third on a walk, sac and wild pitch before Travis Tucker drove him in. Tucker and Michael Torres (whose ears probably are still burning after my comments from afar every time he left runners on base) set the NCAA record with 12 at-bats each.

This analysis from my old friend Kendall Rogers lists some of  the other records that fell. But the most amazing feat was one that won't show up anywhere but the box score, and even then as a no-decision.

Folks, Wood's performance had to be seen to be believed. Of course, this being baseball (love ya ESPN; you only have, what, 12 networks to utilize, and we get one for college baseball?), you had to watch online to see it (and even then, the streaming video was wonky all night and unavailable for several innings). Good defense behind him, and he made some great plays on "D" himself. But think about it: A CLOSER goes 13 innings; throws no-hit ball for the first 12⅓ K's 14. 

I spent most of the night cursing Torres, Cameron Rupp (6 K's -- Augie Garrido actually said in the postgame news conference that the last guy to do that was Ray Charles ... funny, but yikes; enjoy that fine, AG) and the inept Longhorns offense, which left 23 men on base.

But in the end, this was a pitching masterpiece by both teams. And the better staff eventually won.

And Army licks its chops, since BC now plays the Black Knnnnnnniggets an elimination game that begins less than 11 hours after this one ended. Or, more accurately, after this two-and-seven/ninths ended.

---

• Morning-after update: I am still shaking my head over what I saw. 

An excellent recap by former D'Hanis star and my old E-N compadre Mike Finger.

A spirited debate on Barking Carnival on the decision to let Wood throw 169 pitches, especially after he'd thrown in relief the night before. I am TXexpress among those commenting.

Oh, and you'd think that after last night, BC would at least get a small break. But nooooo, at least not officially. ESPNU at about 2 a.m. reported that BC's elimination game vs. Army would start at 1 p.m., rather than noon as originally scheduled. But I've seen no other confirmation, and the NCAA's official bracket still says noon.

It cures what ails ya

My self-pity and sadness over missing out on the DCTF job lasted ... oh, about seven hours.

For that (the quick recovery, not the sadness), I have Colleen to thank.

Some background: At 15, Colleen understandably was the least receptive to the move to Dallas/Fort Worth that getting the DCTF job would have entailed. So she wasn't exactly broken up when we passed along the news that I didn't get it; again, perfectly understandable.

Besides, she had her own issue on which to focus. O'Connor High School's "Spring Spectacular" choir performance was that night, and she for the first time had chosen to sing a solo. We knew it would be special, based on her excitement over it after the tryouts. We also noticed it was the last solo in that night's show, which had solos interspersed with the various group performances (in all, Colleen was part of eight songs that night).

My mom came up from Weimar to lend support, and through Jeanette's participation on the choir's parents board we wound up sitting front row center. The show wowed us, and as usual everyone got all teary-eyed when the seniors honored their parents. The emotion of that moment was a tough act to follow ... and Colleen followed it.

Here's how:

So to Colleen, I say: Thank you. You and your talent saved a lousy day. Your dad couldn't be prouder of you, your talent and the young woman you've become.

Horseshoes and hand grenades

What are the only two endeavors in which close counts, Alex. I'll take "Back to Square One in the Job Search" for $1,000. Better yet, screw the question; I'll just take the $1,000.

I can now say that I was one of two finalists from among about 100 applicants for the job as managing editor of Dave Campbell's Texas Football magazine. You probably have guessed by now that I finished second in that particular two-horse race.

After first inquiring about the job in early March, then interviewing over the phone, in Carrollton, in Lexington, Ky., and over the phone again, the news came this afternoon. It was not unlike a breakup speech, with "we've decided to go in a different direction" replacing "I think we should see other people." It also included the obligatory "it's nothing you did or didn't do" that comes with either speech.

For one of the rare times in my life, I am dumbfounded and speechless (this typing notwithstanding) -- even more so than when the Express-News lowered the boom. In my eyes, the fit could not have been more perfect; hell, I have every DCTF summer edition since 1965. I have quite frankly more experience than was needed for the job. I honestly don't know what else I could have done, short of jumping in the wayback machine and emerging 10 years younger.

Nothing quite like being 45 and feeling obsolete. Guess this is how the dinosaurs felt when God used a meteor to announce the first downsizing.

In the meantime, it's back to Square One, wherever and whatever the hell that is. Any ideas?

Tom Petty was right

The  waaaaaaaaaaaaaaitin' really is the hardest part.

That's a backhanded way of apologizing for the fact that it's been more than a  month between posts. It's not that nothing has happened in that time; quite a bit has, in fact. It's just that the most important event has yet to happen, despite two months of anticipation.

I still don't feel at liberty to reveal in this forum the name of the organization with which I've now had four interviews. If you're reading this, you almost certainly know. Anyway, I am still waiting to hear whether I'm getting the job I covet. To say I'm a little tense would be to say that LeBron James may have a future in the NBA. Nawwwwwwwwwwww, really?

The word is supposed to come this week, which as of this writing is 40 percent complete in a business-days sense. I promise a more detailed update whatever that word may be, and whenever it comes.

Nothing to do with the job dept.: The Texas baseball team won the Big 12 regular-season championship by taking two of three from A&M despite playing far from its best (and benefiting from some, at best, questionable umpiring calls; ask an Aggie, then prepare for a 30-minute dissertation). Now, SEBaseball.com says the Longhorns will be the No. 1 seed in the NCAA tournament.

I want to agree, but just can't. While the defense is solid, the offense is woefully inconsistent. And while the pitching staff leads the nation with a 2.66 ERA, there are signs of erosion. Closer Austin Wood looks to be wearing down a little after a season filled with relatively long outings. Texas has four solid starters in Chance Ruffin, Cole Green, Taylor Jungmann and Brandon Workman, but each has had some shaky moments recently. And the bullpen -- these days consisting of Austin Dicharry and Wood and pretty much no one else -- is paper thin, yet has been called upon more and more. Watch for more innings from Stayton Thomas; his performance the remainder of the season could be crucial.

Bottom line: This team will go as far as its pitching carries it, unless the offense regains the form it showed in a recent three-game, 43-run stretch.

  

Meet the new Boss, better than the old Boss

Please speak up. I still can't hear. Oh, and forgive the voice.

Last night was Boss Time in Austin. And of the five Bruce Springsteen shows I've attended, this one was the best in many ways.

The E Street Band's act is far more polished than it was in the late '70s/early '80s, when I watched two shows while ostensibly working concessions on behalf of the Reagan Band. The show's focus has changed since the self-consciously commercial Born in the USA tour. To compare last night to those shows would be apples and oranges in a sense.

But an easy comparison is to the group's last visit in March 2003 to promote The Rising. The tone of the album, released soon after and largely based on the events of 9/11, was borderline somber. The crowd was surprisingly sparse for a Springsteen show in Austin; maybe 8,000-10,000 tops after a five-month postponement caused by Clarence Clemons' eye problems. The show was a reflection of all that: good, but lacking something.

In a nutshell, last night's performance kicked its ass.

For starters, the Erwin Center was nearly full all the way around, including behind the stage on both levels. And it wasn't a "oh, yeah, let's go see the guy who played halftime at the Super Bowl" crowd, either — the fans were into it from the opening notes of Badlands up through the encore's seventh and final song, Glory Days.

The setlist only had a few changes from this tour's opening two nights, but grew to an impressive 28 songs. Again, from Backstreets.com:

Badlands
Outlaw Pete
My Lucky Day
Prove It All Night
Out in the Street
Working on a Dream
Seeds
Johnny 99
Youngstown
Working on the Highway
Sherry Darling
She's the One
Because the Night
Waitin' on a Sunny Day
The Promised Land
The Wrestler
Kingdom of Days
Radio Nowhere
Lonesome Day
The Rising
Born to Run
* * *
Hard Times
Jungleland
Tenth Avenue Freeze-out
I'm a Rocker
Land of Hope and Dreams
American Land
Glory Days

Some notes:

• Johnny 99 was transformed into a blues-rock, full-band arrangement from its sparse Nebraska roots, and it worked.
• Two youngsters -- a girl and a boy, each in the 9- to 12-year-old range -- got star turns during Waitin' on a Sunny Day. The girl joined Bruce on the stage and nailed her solo part; the boy did the same later in the song as Bruce lowered the microphone toward him.
• Like band and its 59-year-old leader, Born to Run never will grow old. It brought the house down in anticipation of the encore.
• Audience requests led to Sherry Darling, I'm a Rocker ("I can't remember how this one starts," Springsteen said as the band semi-improvised its way into the song) and Glory Days. 

For the third show of a tour, the band was tight and focused. Bruce, as always, threw in a little "great to be in Austin" rap to open the encore (once more, from Backstreets.com)

"We've had some crazy times here since 1974," Springsteen told the Austin crowd, recalling the days when he found an important early fanbase in the Lone Star State. "We were from New Jersey, of course -- the Corruption State -- and Texas was a long way away." Bruce talked about taking the train all that way, unable to fly, and getting seats instead of berths, to come and play Houston's Liberty Hall and here in town at Armadillo World Headquarters. "We have lots of great memories playing in Austin."

And with my beaming wife by my side, I added a few of my own last night.

Catching up

On the wild assumption that anyone except me is reading this, here's what's been going on.

• On the job front: I'm still without one, but some doors are beginning to slowly crack open. Recently, the city's PR community reached out to those on The List by buying us lunch at Alamo Cafe. Well, yesterday I was contacted by one of them via e-mail. I was unable to reply until this morning ... because I was in the Dallas area interviewing for another position. Stay tuned.


• On the "riding off into the sunset" front: Thanks again to Julie Vera at 210SA for throwing a great party in honor of those on The List. Thankfully, my wife and I left before we gave into the urge to break into song once the karaoke machine came out. That song likely would remain broken even today.
  


• On the sports front: Both Texas basketball teams made early NCAA tournament exits — the women in the first round to Mississippi State, the men in the second to Duke. Oh, and the previously No. 1-ranked baseball team lost four games in a row (including a sweep at Kansas) before winning its past two. 

This time for sure

This e-mail went out to the E-N Sports Department yesterday, my final work day (I gave myself today off, which I thought was damned nice of me). Thought I'd share it with anyone who might be reading this and hasn't already seen it (I've edited out a couple of things, just because editors do that):

Colleagues (for another few hours, anyway):

With all the the time that's passed since Feb. 25, I feel like I've ridden off into more sunsets than Randolph Scott (reverent music now plays, a la "Blazing Saddles"). With the exception of a few individual notes to come, this is it. I promise. (Oddly, the idea of dinner on the second floor tonight sounds strangely unappealing.)

I will be in the office briefly tomorrow morning to surrender my badge and FOB, and we're not going anywhere for the foreseeable future. Nonetheless, reality says I've seen some of you for the last time. Sucks, but there you go.

I've never spent 16 years in one place other than my parents' house growing up, so I don't know how or what you're supposed to feel in a situation like this (never mind the forced eviction). Suffice to say, it ain't good in a lot of ways, but it's OK in many others. I've bounced like an EKG reading between optimism and melancholy a few zillion times the past three weeks; even though I know everything will work out eventually, I keep peeking at the end of the book to see when "eventually" is, only to see blank pages. Life's funny that way. ... 

There's no way I could possibly single out all the people I want to; invariably, I'd screw up and leave someone out. So please consider this a blanket "thank you" to you all, for whatever part of those 16 years you've been involved. Thanks go particularly to those who have called or with whom I spoke at Bombay last week and Audry's yesterday. I could not have a better "support group"; in that, I know I speak for all of us who made (cue dramatic, spooky music) The List. ...

And one, final word of advice: Have a backup plan ready. I freely admit to being blindsided by all this and feel like I'm playing from behind. Each of you is a professional; I have no doubt you all will continue to put out quality products. But in this climate, each of you owes it to himself or herself to be prepared for any contingency.

Oh, and cancel my subscription. (I've always wanted to do that.)

GRK

To quote the blowfish in "Finding Nemo" once all the aquarium fish had maneuvered their baggies into the ocean: "Now what?" All the pertinent goodbyes have been said; all the hugs and handshakes have been exchanged. On with life.

Today's checklist: Pick up dry cleaning. Check. Now what?

Riding off into the sunset

I wrote this for the March 18 editions of the Express-News. This (with the exception of five words in the first sentence) is how it appeared on Page 2 — my final one:

In journalism, or what’s left of it, it’s called the –30– column. Simply put, it’s the last one the writer writes at a given newspaper before riding off into the sunset.

Some sunset rides are more voluntary than others, but we won’t get into that right now.

The –30– column (and, by the way, there’s no consensus on the origin of –30– as story-ending symbol) ranges from sappy to acerbic, from bittersweet to bitter, hold the sweet.

Hopefully, this one falls somewhere in between.

30 (or –30–) is …

• The number of consecutive football games Texas won between 1968 and 1970. The first UT game I can recall attending in person was No. 14 in the streak — a 31-0 Longhorns victory over Rice. The seats in which my dad and I sat no longer exist; they were in Memorial Stadium’s north-end horseshoe.


• Steve Worster, the first Wishbone fullback. For what do you remember him: his two first-team All- America seasons, or his multi-fumble game in the 1971 Cotton Bowl, in which Texas’ 30-game winning streak ended?


• Terrell Davis, a wonderful example of what could have been. He was the 1998 NFL MVP and a two- time offensive player of the year whose injury-plagued career lasted just eight seasons.


• Mike Rozier, the Heisman-winning star of Nebraska’s unstoppable offense on a team best remembered for blowing the national championship by losing to Miami in the 1984 Orange Bowl.


• Dan Reeves as one of the all-time great Dallas Cowboys (though Mr. Cowboy he was not; look to Bob Lilly for that title). You probably know him better as a coach who is 0-4 in Super Bowls, or as a pitchman for Dry Idea and Zocor.


• Symbolic of what’s happened to rushing in the NFL. Only seven of 32 teams last season averaged more than 30 carries per game (six of the seven reached the playoffs). By comparison, Ricky Williams alone averaged 32.6 during his 1998 Heisman-winning season.


• Nolan Ryan, though only to Mets and Angels fans. He shed the number upon joining the Astros; you probably know him better as No. 34. The Angels retired the No. 30, anyway.


• Tim Raines. Great baseball player, but often is remembered for being the guy who used to slide head- first so he wouldn’t break the vials of cocaine he carried in his back pocket.


• Maury Wills, who was setting stolen-base records when that white powder on Raines’ bottom was made by Johnson & Johnson. Later known as a manager whose blunders were “unparalleled,” according to one writer.


• Orlando Cepeda. Like Ryan, his 30 has been retired (by the Giants) and he’s now in the Hall of Fame. He also was busted in 1978 on drug-possession charges.


• Double the fun in the 30-30 club, which once was fairly exclusive but now includes 32 players with a total of 52 seasons of 30 home runs and 30 stolen bases. Are you shocked to see Jose Canseco, Barry Bonds and Alex Rodriguez as members?


• The pitching-victories barrier last broken by Denny McLain, who totaled 31 in 1968. McLain went on to do jail time for for drug trafficking, embezzlement, and racketeering.


• The number of runs the Rangers scored on Aug. 22, 2007, setting a modern-day MLB-record. Texas finished the season 75-87, 19.5 games out of first place in the AL West.


• The number Ken Griffey Jr. wore when he and his dad, Ken Sr. (No. 30 in his Big Red Machine heyday), became the majors’ first father-son player combo. On Sept. 1, 1990, when they played their second game together for the Seattle Mariners, I was at the Kingdome along with my wife of eight days, Jeanette. (Griffey Jr. returned to Seattle this season. Jeanette and I, now approaching 19 years together, have yet to go back.)


• The number of times (and then some) I probably will regret choosing this format before all is said and done. Fifteen down, 15 to go.


• Not a popular basketball number. Too round; too inelegant. Bernard King probably is the best of a mediocre lot.


• … unless it’s George McGinnis. Like I say, pickings are slim.


• Allen Bristow, the best Spur to wear the number ...


• … unless it’s Terry Porter. Did I mention that pickings are slim?


• The number of NBA teams, far too many of which make the playoffs (but then, of what pro sport can’t that be said?).


• Points (plus .6) Kevin Durant averaged in 12 February games for the woeful (and woefully named) Oklahoma City Thunder. The kid is all right, in much the same way as water is wet.


• The number of seconds on the shot clock in women’s college basketball. To me, that’s ideal — 24 is too rushed, 35 seems awkward.


• The length, in seconds, of a quickie timeout in football and basketball. You know, the good ones that don’t completely ruin the flow of the game for the sake of two minutes’ worth of commercials.


• Martin Brodeur. Since we’re in Texas, you probably don’t know him at all (he’s among the best NHL goalies, perhaps ever).


• … someone, I’m sure, in NASCAR. I need to call Mom and Dad, now rabid racin’ fans in retirement. Dale yes!


• … someone, I’m sure, in soccer. Moving on …


• The number of days hath September, the month of my birth in 1963; June, the month of my older daughter’s birth in 1993; and November, the month of my younger daughter’s birth in 2004. Oh, and April, too.


• When life used to “begin,” until all the thirtysomethings turned 40. At 45, I’m about ready for the bar to be moved upward again.


• The approximate number of names (unprintable) I was called by caring readers after a Page 2 installment poking fun at Cleveland, and another in which I had the gall to not have Bill Simmons’ “Patrick Ewing Theory” memorized and etched in stone tablets on my desk. Or, rather, what was my desk.


• Me. Signing off. It’s been a fun, 16-year ride. Now the sunset’s so bright, I gotta wear shades. They also mask tears.
  
  –30–