For anyone outside of my nimble little world, it is simply impossible to misconstrue the madness that composes my young self. For anyone to walk through the personification of my wistful mind would be to conjure up the most vivid nightmares of your past.
Indeed, I am a freak.
The things that enter my mind are not for the weak-hearted, mild-mannered or polite - I'm about as politically correct as slavery.
So it is with a heavy heart that I bid NIC's great newspaper goodbye. I have spent the past five semesters on The Sentinel, serving as sports editor the past four.
Perhaps the greatest benefit of this lustrous position is the "sports column."
Thanks to "Boing," I've made a few enemies, lost a few friends, built some bridges while undoubtedly burning even more. However, when I look back, I don't regret a single article.
We've examined my incredibly lackluster coaching career over the past two years.
My downright awful all-time record of 19-32 (covering baseball, basketball and soccer) is at the same time a trademark to my coaching philosophy: "Conditioning is something you do after you shampoo."
In reality, I wish they didn't keep score for youth athletics - and not just because my teams lose.
We learned more than most other teams, and one of the greatest pieces of advice I was ever christened with was that 10 years from now, the kids I have coached won't remember whether they won a certain game or not, but they will remember whether they sat on the bench or not and how much fun they had. Long story short: We have fun.
In the spring of 2005, you went with me to "the almighty perennial powerhouse of a basketball cathedral" to witness Ronny Turiaf's last home game as a Gonzaga Bulldog before getting drafted by the Lakers. Thanks to my younger sister, I received a student "ticket" and posed as a Gonzagian to enter the game.
That fall, we met Geno, and I was introduced to the wide world of hunting.
Driving around the mountains just outside town, with a shotgun in one hand a beer in the other, I was taught the rituals of road hunting, where I dropped my first bird from a moving vehicle:
"I've never scored the winning touchdown in a football game, but I have played co-ed recreational softball ? Yet all those pale in comparison to shooting a grouse. Worst yet, I bought a deer tag this year, too. If they're at all like shooting a grouse, than may God have mercy on the whitetails of North Idaho. Bambi, prepare to die."
Little did I know, Bambi would prove harder to drop than originally thought.
So I may have finished my first deer season with an empty tag, the same wouldn't be said for this season: "I may not have butchered Bambi, but I murdered his mom," I wrote in last issue's column.
Yet there was so much more than just coaching and killing.
I became a student in the religion of Pong, Ping Pong. I witnessed the University of Oregon's football team come from behind in one of the most controversial comebacks of our time when they beat Oklahoma in Eugene this fall.
I had a press pass to last season's Mariners-Tigers game in Seattle, and actually stepped on Safeco Field - a childhood dream-come-true!
Speaking of baseball, I was just outside the gates of Busch Stadium this fall when the Cardinals beat those same Detroit Tigers in St. Louis, winning the World Series and bestowing upon me the necessity to riot with the city.
Indeed, the past two-and-a-half years have been quite overwhelming.
I will remember The College By The Lake for some great sporting moments: I was here when the wrestling team finished second in the nation; I was there when both men's and women's basketball teams held their respective district tournaments in Christianson Gym; and this year, our volleyball team placed fourth at nationals - a school first!
NIC has a lustrous athletic department. and I feel privileged to have worked with them.
No comments:
Post a Comment