Friday, March 19, 2010

Boston Rob bromance

It'd be too harsh to call it a drawback, but the one unfortunate part of the NCAA Tournament on Thursday night was no Survivor.

So without a new episode to contemplate, I thought I'd reflect a bit on one of my all-time favorite castaways, Boston Rob.




Quick intro to this clip I'm encouraging you to watch: Boston Rob, frustrated with his tribe and feeling a little ill, decides to take a walk and get some air. Not long into his walk, he collapses. When one of his tribe mates finds hims and can't wake him up, she calls in the show's medical team.

The entire 3-minutes is pretty darn entertaining, but the meat of the clip is from about the 1:25 to 2:10 mark.

and .... action!

••••••••

That, my friends, is sound advice you can take to the bank.

Quit trying to be something you're not. Suck it up, put on your big boy pants and go to work.

Crybabyitis. Gotta love it.

Hopefully my man goes far and the third time is the charm. It scares me that Russell is dead set on knocking him out soon, but I'm going to be pulling for my namesake as long as he's around.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

March Gladness

It started a 9 a.m. with me, my friend Matt, two donuts and half a jug of orange juice.

13 hours, 16 games and one fantastic buzzer-beater later, it was over.

Regrets? None whatsoever.

With the day off work, a projection screen at my disposal and my laptop ready to spring into action when I needed a new game to watch, I sat down on the couch and perfectly executed a marathon of college basketball viewing.

The best part of the day was the first game on the docket, thanks to Jimmer Fredette and this guy.



What a relief for Cougar nation.

What a shame that I'll be back on the clock for Friday's first round games.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Celebrity status

I've tried to keep a low profile in Yuma. Kept a tight circle of friends. Avoided public places. Shopped late at night. Dated only when necessary.

That's all over now. I've got a household name like Tiger, a household face like Seacrest, and a household voice like Regis. :)

For the past couple months I've had the opportunity to play a little part of the local NBC affiliate's news broadcast. The sports anchor wanted to do a weekly 3-minute segment about the Arizona Western College basketball teams and bring me on as the "expert." (His term, not mine.)

Here's a taste of my work. (I tried to post the video directly into the blog. The little video screen appeared, but it was blank and nothing happened when I clicked the play button. Sorry.)

There's about seven or eight more of these if you're interested. Which one's the best? Guess that depends on whether you consider "best" as Emmy-worthy stuff or Boom-goes-the-dynamite stuff. I've never watched them and tried to erase from my memory any and everything I said.

However, I'm sure if you decide to watch them you'll recognize some of these faces/expressions/reactions:

• "You didn't tell me you were going to ask that question."

• "Sit straight. No, too tall. Cross your ankles. No, too lady-like. What do I do with these bean stalks!!"

• "Better not say that. (awkward pause.) Better say something."

• "Why did I say that?"

• "Hey look, I can see myself on the monitor! Am I REALLY that pale and pasty?

• "Probably should smile. (Smile, pause). Oooh, that was cheesy."

• "Stop staring at Tommy. Stop staring around the room. Look into the camera!!"

• "Why did the camera guy's face just get really serious?"

Couple observations from this experience:
1. People love to tell you they saw you on TV.
It's fun being a celebrity and all, but I just didn't expect this kind of notoriety. Excluding the haters who me leave voicemails when I fail to include their precious all-star prodigy child's name in a story, it's rare when someone tells me they read my article in the newspaper.

2. 3 minutes goes by in a jiffy.
Before going to the news studio each week, I probably spent 45 minutes - 1 hour preparing myself with stats, records, tends, quotes, and ideas. Then the lights go up, the video starts running, and bang, it's over.
I imagine the gobs of nervous energy pushing me along had something to do with it too.

Seacrest out.