This must have been early on, because everyone looks happy, and they can still jump.
DAVENPORT, Calif. — I have so much to catch you up on, including my fear of heights tested on a famous bridge and our van allegedly making contact with another van and phone numbers and license plates being exchanged. We are, after all, good citizens who do not leave the scene of an alleged accident. And, the other van’s occupants were right there.
CALISTOGA, Calif. — We haven’t had a van breakdown, as my headline would imply. The vans themselves are trouble. Let me explain. Each team has two vans, with six runners in each. Today, for instance, before we’d even gotten to the starting line, we missed a turn and went 10 miles the wrong way. That’s how it is for two straight days. You’re basically lost, driving a boat on wheels with six smelly, annoyed people in it. All the while having to stop constantly to provide cheers and water and an appropriately upbeat song for your runner on the course. (Again: No course. Running on side of road.)
The back half of the van is usually car sick. The front half of the van is sick of hearing the back half complain about it. By Sunday, you can feel the tension. Or sometimes people just scream at each other. The Relay usually starts out as the most team-oriented, feel-good event you’ve ever done, and by the end you find yourself punching someone for eating Doritos too loudly. It’s the dynamics of a marriage, condensed into one weekend.
NAPA, Calif. — I’ve tried on several occasions to explain the Relay for Organ Donation and it always comes out sounding crazy. There could be a reason for that.
It’s a race, of course, but I’m not exactly sure how it raises money or awareness for organ donation, other than each runner pays a mandatory $50 donation. On the awareness side, I’m sure there will be several drivers who over the next two days say, “Holy crap! I about hit a bald guy on the side of the road. Did you see that, Liz? What the hell was that guy doing?! Hope he’s got his things in order.”
This is a sad day. We have arrived at our final Hawaiian WAC Tennis Tournament update from Brett Frank, full-time basketball coach, but more importantly, part-time entertaining blog correspondent. You may or may not have heard the Fresno State women’s team won the title this weekend in a wild, thrilling final. Brett’s back from Hawaii and I can’t wait to hear the full report.
I must admit I am slightly relieved there will be no more updates simply because my Roman numeral counting is somewhat limited, and we were getting close to having to change headlines. It’s a little like Spanish. I count really loud and strong, right up to about ocho, and then I start trailing off and mumbling. Major thanks to Brett for taking time to update us while on vacation. He did a great job. Enough stalling, here is Brett’s final report:
I’m starting to think this won’t end well. I feel like I just invited a guy in a ski mask to escort me to the ATM, or Tom Brady to tag along on my honeymoon. You know how this turns out. Later I’m probably going to be sobbing and wondering why I didn’t see it coming.
Brett Frank, our Fresno State tennis correspondent in Hawaii, is now reporting on food. And TV shows. He’s whiplashing from one subject to another. He’s using asterisks to insert useless information. In short, he’s stealing my act.
I’m always confused about standard time versus daylight savings time, but especially when it concerns Hawaii. The state of Hawaii, and pretty much the entire Hawaii-Aleutian Time Zone, ignores daylight savings time altogether. Doesn’t even recognize it. If Hawaii and daily savings time got on an elevator together, it would be awkward. Historically, it’s thought to be because of a long-standing Island guideline that, roughly-translated, states: “What do we care what time it is? We’re in Hawaii!”
But seriously, Hawaiian standard time is based on – as well all know – the mean solar time of the 150th meridian west of the Greenwich Observatory. As you can see, I’ve gotten really good at copying and pasting. If I had to guess, I’d say the problem is offshore ripples in the space time continuum. Frankly, I think this is what happened to Amelia Earhart. Whatever the reason, there is no daylight savings time in Hawaii, so during the winter, it’s two hours earlier in Hawaii than in California. And from March to November, it’s three hours earlier.
Already, this blog is more successful than anyone could have imagined. The internet hasn’t crashed. The F.C.C. is still not involved. I haven’t been fired from the job that actually pays money. It’s pretty much Jelly-of-the-month bonus time from here on out.
With that in mind, the blog proudly presents something completely fun and unexpected: We have a correspondent! I was as schocked as you are. His name is Brett Frank, an assistant coach for the Fresno State women’s basketball team. More importanly, one of the 10 coolest people you’ll ever get to meet. OK, chances are you won’t get to meet him, but I have, and you should be jealous. He’s single-handedly changed my thoughts about people from Oklahoma.
YOUR DAILY PROOF THAT PEOPLE HAVE TOO MUCH FREE TIME
My only question here, well, besides the robot reading the Bible on a park bench, is … Sports logo bloggers? Really? Talk about your specialty professions.
Oscar De La Hoya retired this week, his dad on stage with him in Los Angeles as he made the announcement. He took months making the decision. It is tough, as he said, for the great ones to know when to quit. I suspect it is the same in other professions as it is for athletes. Architects. Supreme court judges. Columnists. A lot of us hold on a little too long*. The skills slip with age, at least for everyone who isn’t Clint Eastwood. We notice it most in sports, though, probably because we care so much and the end comes so quickly.
*Remind me sometime to do an entire blog about my hometown dentist, an aging man who died while still practicing. My family had to switch dentists, obviously, and on the first visit, the new guy said I had 10 cavities that needed to be filled. It might have been 12. I can’t remember. It was not a fun two weeks. Point being, Willie Mays wasn’t the only one who hung on to long. It’s hard for all of us to move on from what we love and what we know.
