From The Bull pen: Growing up with Chicago sports

I was young when I realized I would not have a career as a professional athlete. Despite my best efforts and a basketball coach for a dad, I was just plain bad. It didn’t help that I was slow, short and more likely to get hit by a ball than catch one.

I tried my hand at volleyball, soccer and cheerleading but the results were always the same. I am just not cut out to be an athlete, unless you count rodeo but that is another story.

So, I became a fan. My family has always been very into sports. There are countless pictures of me as a baby wearing Chicago Bears and Bulls outfits. In all the family videos of my birthday parties, you can hear and see a Chicago Cubs game in the background, where, unfortunately, they are often losing. … Continue Reading

Open Mouth, Insert Football: Time to go

And just like that, it’s time to graduate. Time to finish up and move on to what is next.

It’s time to go.

Time for the next guy to take my place while I exit stage left. As I glance back and survey my experience here at my alma mater, the melodic tones of Green Day’s Billie Joe Armstrong replay in my mind:

Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road,

Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go.

I’ll be making my way to Bowling Green, Ky., to see what the next phase of my life holds. … Continue Reading

Swing and a Drive: Nine Months

I never realized how much can happen in nine months.

|| Kylie Townsend/The News

I mean sure, I know a lot of things could happen; a house could be built, a sports season could come and go – heck, even a baby could be made. But really, I’ve been on this earth for more than 19 years. How much could happen in just nine short months?

You see, nine months ago I was sitting on the couch in my house in Nashville, Tenn. I was probably watching the Atlanta Braves game and texting six or seven of my friends while simultaneously trying to decide who I would be hanging out with or whether or not anyone had a couple of extra tickets to a Predators hockey game.

Nine months ago I was asking my mom what was for dinner and grumbling at the fact that my favorite pair of jeans were still dirty because laundry hadn’t been done yet. I was racing home at 12:09 trying to make it back before my dad realized I was late for my curfew again.

Nine months ago I knew the Braves were going to win the World Series and that Chris Johnson was the best running back in the NFL. I knew I hated the Phillies and Yankees more than anything else, and I knew Murray State had a new coach and probably wouldn’t have such a good season my freshman year.

I also knew hanging out with friends and making a lot of money someday were the two most important things in life. I knew I was a generally nice guy who had a lot of friends and a job and didn’t really need to worry about anything or anyone else.

Nine months ago, I knew just about everything.

Much can change in nine months. I now have a much smaller home where I don’t even have a couch or a TV with all the channels on which the Braves play. I have to wash all my own clothes and pay for all my own gas. I’ve had three different majors and I’ve seen all of the friends who used to live fewer than 15 minutes away spread out from Louisiana to Utah and everywhere in between.

I saw the Braves collapse and fail to even make the playoffs and I saw the “best running back in the NFL” single handedly destroy my fantasy team by only rushing for 1,000 yards and four measly touchdowns.

More importantly, I learned there is a lot more to this spinning ball of earth than Jonathan Ferris and his friends. I learned I’m not always the easygoing good guy I thought I was and that I am entirely too blessed to complain as much as I do.

I learned I could have more love and excitement for an unknown college basketball team from small town western Kentucky than I’d ever had over any of the major league teams I’d watched my entire life.

Indeed, I’ve learned so much these last nine months, and my life has changed in ways I couldn’t have imagined. However, I keep reminding myself these last nine months, which have seemed like a lifetime worth of change, are only one-fourth of my Murray State chapter. I’ve got a whole new chapter starting in August, as I’ve been blessed yet again with the chance to be the sports editor for The News and for you the student, athlete, coach, alumnus or fan.

Here we are at the end of another year at Murray State where we’ve all experienced some of the most genuine joy and sincere sorrow – all in just these last nine months.

We sat captivated, watching our basketball team shock the nation and shatter records, and we all deeply mourned as we lost those dear to our hearts. We laughed, cried, cheer, prayed, and lived our lives together.

Nine months ago, we all started this journey together, not knowing what would come our way, and look where we are now. We’ve all had experiences we won’t ever forget and made friendships that will last a lifetime.

So, whatever your story may be and wherever you are in life right now, just remember – a lot can happen in just nine months.

Open Mouth, Insert Football: Let me tell you…

There are three sports stories from the week that stood out to me, and I want to ask you about them. Did you see the elbow? How ‘bout them Saints now? And what’s up with the BoSox?

It’s not enough to just sit back and watch the games anymore, is it? We’ve got to have drama. New drama. Not yesterday’s headlines, but some juicy new storyline that, once again, focuses attention on the off-field activities of sports figures.

Ah, well. I guess that’s where we are. Let’s just look at what this last week has given us sports fans.

Metta World War

Let me ask you. Is it official? Is the old Ron Artest back? If he ever left, that is. After years of NBA fans acting like the Malice at the Palace never happened, Artest (ahem, I mean Metta World Peace) has found himself again on the business end of Commissioner David Stern’s suspension gavel, this time netting a seven-game sentence of watching from the front row in a suit.

You might have seen World Pea…

I can’t do it. He’s Ron Artest. Especially now that he’s shown that Ron Artest never really left.

As I was saying, you might have seen Artest experience about 1.5 seconds of absolute lunacy on Sunday when he planted his left elbow behind the ear of Oklahoma City Thunder’s James Hardin.

The worst part is it came off a breakaway dunk on top of Kevin Durant. It was a great play – right until the part when Artest ended his post-dunk Tarzan impression by losing his blooming mind and throwing some bows.

As of this column, Hardin is still shaking the cobwebs out of his head. Hardin, the player about to be dubbed the NBA’s sixth-man-of-the-year, got assaulted right at the start of the playoffs and is still out dealing with the concussion. His loss will hurt the Thunder more than the Lakers’ temporary loss of their thug.

The Lakers – Thunder matchup was supposed to be a pre-playoffs indicator of where these teams stood. It was supposed to be a game that jockeyed for playoff seeding position. It was supposed to be a scoring bonanza between the two best scorers in the league, Kobe Bryant and Kevin Durant, and their competition for the scoring crown.

Nobody is talking about that now.

More drama.

Sinners or Saints?

Let me ask you. Is there a broken law, misdeed or faux pas the New Orleans Saints haven’t committed lately? Any more skeletons lurking back there? Any handicapped people denied access to games? Any kids get knocked down the Superdome steps? I’m still waiting for Drew Brees to do something stupid and finish off the franchise.

Seriously. What’s next?

Time will tell if the recent report is true. No, not the one about the bounty system. No, not the resulting fallout of the Saints losing their coaches, even the coach they used to replace the ousted head coach. No, not the report speculating all the players the Saints will lose because they wanted to hurt people instead of play straight-up football.

I’m talking about the latest report that has the FBI and the Justice Department lurking around New Orleans as they attempt to determine if Saints’ General Manager Mickey Loomis listened in on opposing coaches during games.

This is pathetic. And what’s worse? This is my team.

Having grown up as a kid in Mississippi, I loved the Saints when they were the ‘Aints.

Loomis and the rest of the Saints’ brass deny the report. As a fan, I certainly hope it’s bogus. But this just stinks.

ESPN’s Michael Wilbon said this Saints team has managed to go from being everyone’s second favorite team to a poorly run – even deceptively run – team. No matter how this latest wave of scandals plays out, the New Orleans Saints are in serious need of help.

Boston Red Sux

Let me ask you. Can you think of anyone out there who is getting more boos than Ron Artest will get on his next trip to Oklahoma City?

I can think of only one guy: Bobby Valentine.

Fresh off the record collapse of last September, Valentine swaggered in to save the day for the franchise that forgot it didn’t have Manny or Pedro any more.

Or Francona. Or Varitek. Or Theo.

Right now, Boston sits dead last in the American League East. When you find yourself four games behind the Orioles, you know you’ve started on the wrong foot. Or maybe just picked up where you left off with that abysmal end to 2011.

Last Saturday’s collapse against the Yankees was topped off with the Fenway crowd booing Valentine every chance it got.

My opinion? He deserved it.

Valentine looked lost when the Yankees started hitting. He walked guys intentionally with the lead and looked shell-shocked when they crossed the plate moments later. He left bullpen pitchers in way too long, and basically made every wrong move possible.

Valentine was quoted after the game as saying, “I think we’ve hit bottom. If this isn’t the bottom, then we’ll find some new ends to the earth or something.”

Not exactly the kind of leadership expected of someone ready to turn everything around.

Gotta feel for those Sox fans out there. This is going to be a long, painful season.

Centershots: Impacting Others

Last week I received an anonymous card at work from an 80-year-old Racer fan. The delicate writing was signed by “One of the Racer Nation,” and encouraged me on my journey to greater challenges. It was one of the top 10 moments for me as sports editor and reminded me of what each of us do every day: impact others whether we realize it or not.

The anonymous Racer fan was impacted greatly by the men’s basketball team this year, as were thousands of others. But the team is not the only thing making an effect this year.

When I sat down to write this, my final column for The News, I was going to write about the impact and influence Murray State has had in my life during my time as sports editor but I couldn’t seem to put it onto paper. So many things have happened over the last year that I can’t seem to orchestrate the letters or form the words to best articulate what this University and the people who make up Racer Nation mean to me. … Continue Reading

Open Mouth Insert Football: For Devin

I keep rewriting this, trying to remind myself this is a sports column, not an obituary. It’s a space for commentary regarding the latest events in the sports world, not a therapeutic exercise for the writer. But every time I delete the copy and try to force myself into “sports mode,” it just falls flat. So I’m just going to write what my heart will let me write.

First, I need to go sit under the stars. Clear my head.

That’s better. Where was I?

Oh yeah. I was just about to tell you about Devin, about how we lost Devin.

I suppose some background is in order.

Devin and I graduated from a small private school with, I believe, a grand total of 23 other people. (Yes, Micah was there too. He wasn’t able to stand with us, but he was there.)

Those of you unfamiliar with the small class dynamic may not appreciate the unlikely connections that are made there. Even when we didn’t know it, our class formed a peculiar identity – and yes, peculiar is the right word.

Jocks, nerds, rich, poor, popular, outcasts – it didn’t matter that much to us. Oh, there were the typical high school theatrics and soap operas that immediately revealed themselves to be ridiculous the moment we graduated. But we bonded, even when we didn’t know it. We were the class with its own identity. Unfortunately, we were also the class that never stayed in touch.

We threw our caps in the air and never looked back. There’s something funny about riding off into the sunset, though. Once the sun comes back up, you’ve got to keep riding.

High school became memory and I settled into the next phase of life. I sometimes wondered who I would run into as time went on, but you’d be surprised at how seldom that happens.

It seems forever ago now, although it hasn’t been that long really. I don’t do a good job keeping in touch. Like many high school friendships, Devin and I shared a million laughs at the time but forgot to say where we’d meet up after graduation.

Life’s been busy since then. I didn’t just go away to college; I went to college, got married to a crazy hot chick, had two amazing little boys and came back to finish college. Like I said, I’ve been busy.

(Note to self: you lose a lot of connections that way.) … Continue Reading

Centershots: Rolling back the tarp

It’s that time of year. The time of flip-flops, grill-outs and frozen lemonade. The time when the trees bud, the flowers bloom, pale people like myself buy stock in sunscreen and the grass in center field is the most attractive shade of green there ever was.

It’s baseball season.

I adore March Madness and the incomparable thrill of NCAA basketball, but baseball also captures my heart. I mean, there’s a reason it’s called America’s Favorite Pastime.

No, for real. There’s a reason.

Back in the late 18th to early 19th centuries, people used to spend almost all their free time playing baseball (as legend goes, anyway) and thus it obtained the title. Pretty simple.

Some of my most cherished moments with my parents are watching America’s beloved sport. We love the St. Louis Cardinals, and cheering on any division within the Red Birds organization means taking a plethora of pictures and making memories. … Continue Reading

Open Mouth, Insert Football: Hypocrisy in sports

What’s this? NFL players are hitting each other hard – on purpose? What’s this? NCAA coaches are going over their minutes when calling or texting new recruits? What’s this? A coach known for his rotten personality is caught wrecking his motorcycle with a girl half his age on the back? What’s this? A baseball manager known more for his mouth than his baseball insight is now in trouble for flapping his yap?

No! Say it ain’t so! My faith in humanity is shattered!

OK, not really. But if the sports channels can be sensational, why can’t I?

The reports scrolling across ESPN’s non-stop “BREAKING NEWS!” screen would have us sports fans in a constant tizzy, forever astonished at the new lows to which people will go.

You know, crimes against humanity like New Orleans Saints’ linebackers trying to crush other football players. (Hey ESPN! Why did you suddenly stop running your “JACKED UP!” montage on NFL Live?) … Continue Reading

Centershots: For the love of quotes

Sophie McDonald
Sports Editor

I’ll admit it: I could be obsessed with quotes. And by “could be” I mean I definitely am.

A quote from someone with more experience or who has tapped into a fountain of insight can offer a quick burst of wisdom, inspiration and motivation for athletes and non-athletes alike and can serve to push them to the next level of whatever goal they’re reaching for.

The following are a few of my favorites from some familiar and not so familiar names.

… Continue Reading

Open Mouth, Insert Football: The dead zone

Ben Morrow
Sports Columnist

I heard ESPN’s Tim Cowlishaw say on “Around the Horn” that he thought this was the best time of the sports year. He cited the Masters, the NBA, the NHL playoffs and MLB Opening Day as his reasons. Apparently this guy likes spring.

Allow me to disagree slightly.

The excitement of a thrilling college basketball season is finished. As great as it was, we have now entered into the twilight zone of sports.

To put it bluntly, this is garbage time. This is the part of the ball game when you put in the scrubs. This is when the crowd leaves in droves even though the buzzer has not sounded. As far as I’m concerned, this is the part of the sports calendar that just dies.

Welcome to the dead zone. … Continue Reading