The thorn among the roses

My unintentional tour of baseball's best cities continued this summer.

'08 was Boston.

'09 was Chicago.

'10 was St. Louis.

Once again, baseball was not the reason for the vacation, nor was it the best part of my trip.

But there's certainly a thread developing here.

Who's going to take me to Dodger Stadium in '11?

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Got to spend a weekend earlier this month with the Jorgensens, who live about 20 minutes across the river from the STL.

Who, might you ask, are the Jorgensens? They belong to her.

Despite what my facial expression might indicate, I was thrilled Katie invited me to be a late addition to the "O'Fallon Fun Recital Extravaganza."

The Cardinals put on a great show (8-0 win, Wainwright's first-ever shutout, postgame fireworks), but the best performance and the real star of the weekend was Miss Heidi. People flew in from Arizona, Utah and Texas to see this girl dance!!

Here are the only stats you need to know from her ballet/dance recital:

• Dancers beside Heidi who rocked the role of Aurora in Sleeping Beauty: 0

• Tears/smiles/applause expressed following her solos: 347,000

Yes, I did my own interpretation of "Sleeping Beauty" a couple times during the show, but everything I saw was spectacular.

And yes, Mrs. Jorgensen, we see you back there. What, no bunny ears?

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Everyone got a chance to strut their stuff when Katie's dad set up the backyard obstacle course.

If any of the challenges look familiar to some of you out there, they should. The only thing this party was missing from a Weiler backyard shindig was the water relay with sponges.

Whiffle ball toss over the swing

Golf ball slide into the bucket

Knock over the wood blocks with the wood baton

Ring (formerly used as packaging material) toss

Dart throw into the firepit

How well can you arrange the Quorum of the 12 in order?

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Some of you may have noticed from the pictures the slightly uneven gender ratio at the Jorgy home that weekend.

5 women (plus 1 infant girl): 2 men. Not the kind of odds I'm familiar with. Trust me, it didn't take me long to make this observation.

So did one other gentleman, who said it best while sitting around before for Katie's dad was set apart as a counselor in the bishopric

"Well, aren't you the thorn among the roses."

Sure am, Mr. Stake President. Thanks for the encouragement.

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While no trip to the STL would be complete without some baseball, I got a double dose of America's pastime thanks to my own relatives. I forgot to take some pics of my cousin Jason (a.k.a. Willie Mays) playing in his baseball tournament, but here are some of the highlights of my time with the Lofgreens:

• Line of the day from cuz Grant: "Did you guys drive through the ghetto to get here?" (Yes, we did.)

• Line of the day from Grant No. 2: "Sweet. Got mom's credit cards."
• Cuz Emily (age 6) figures I'm about 15 years old (awesome). Big props to Emily also for pounding her way through an entire IHOP kids meal.
• Cuz Jason was on the money on both his relay throws from center field to second base at his game. Unfortunately, the second baseman was 0-for-2 in tagging out the runner.
• Cuz Grant's shock and disbelief over the local Dairy Queen's complete lack of hamburgers and fries on the menu
• Cuz Megan's anxiety to make sure Emily was on time for summer school and out of her hair for the rest of the day. Hang in there Megan. We've all been there.

A tribute to longevity

"If it ain't broke, don't fix it."

Simple enough, right?

But what happens when something is broken, and still working?

Well, this is what happens.



I broke the arm off my glasses about eight months ago falling asleep on the couch. Since the couch and the car are the only two places my glasses ever go, I used a one-armed balancing act for a while.

It worked well enough, but I finally went to see what the optical shop could do about it last month. After 15 minutes of free "lab" work, the arm was reattached. It doesn't collapse, but it stays on my face. Mission accomplished.




This is an oldie that dates back to my BYU days, but has run its course as a goodie.

I noticed a tiny crack in the battery about a year ago and thought nothing of it. About six months ago the crack was painfully obvious. The phone still worked fine, just so long as I kept calls to less than five minutes. Sorta lost that option not too long ago and had to make a change.








And then there's the shoes. Another BYU oldie. That's at least five years boys and girls, maybe more.

These puppies were already on their last legs when I arrived in Yuma. And it didn't take long for the cracks to become holes when they became my everyday work shoes because of the newspaper's dress code.

Seeing how it only rains about 10 hours a year in Yuma, shoes with holes really aren't a problem. They just become too pitiful, even by my low standards.

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There's no good explanation for holding on to Payless brand shoes with holes, cell phones with a 12-hour battery life and eyeglasses with one arm. But there is an obvious explanation:

I'm cheap, and lazy.

Worth a Tri

Every year the Boy Scouts from the Yuma stake host a triathlon, and this year I decided to give it a go.

How bad could it be? I'm young. I run regularly. No pre-existing medical conditions.

Then again, the last time I did a .25 mile swim was probably back in my days as a Boy Scout earning the swimming and lifesaving merit badges (a small miracle in itself). Same goes for the last time I rode a mountain bike 9.4 miles.

Oh well. No guts, no glory. What good is health insurance if you're not going to use it? Show me to the start line.

I apologize for not having pictures or video to illustrate what follows. I'm just as curious to know how tired, humorous and pathetic my performance appeared.

Before I go any further, I also want to mention that my only goal for the triathlon was to finish. And I did. Which I why I'm willing to detail the 1 hour, 54 minute journey to the finish line.

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7:30 a.m. - Into the water.
Things started off well by the mere fact that I was able to stand in the water without shaking violently, but quickly went downhill from there.
The 0.25 mile swim constituted swimming the length of the pool 16 times. By lap No. 4, my arms were already dead from swimming freestyle. This shouldn't have really surprised me, but it did. I switched to my back side and began using my own unorthodox stroke that relies heavily on a big kick from my right leg the rest of the way.

I'm not sure just how far behind I was once I finished my swim, but I was clearly the last one out of the pool from the "old man" division, which also happened to feature a few ladies. No pride lost yet. I know I'm a terrible swimmer. I can live with it.

I wasn't expecting the headache that accompanied me while I changed clothes for my bike ride. However, I was expecting the uncomfortable bike ride that followed, knowing that my bike was designed for someone about 3 inches shorter than me.
The vast majority of the bike ride was on a loose gravel road that winds around the canal, which didn't help my cause one bit. I listened to a Bill Simmons podcast to with Jim Nantz to distract myself from the agony, was passed by a wave of scouts who began their swim after me, came to a complete stop and took a quick break at both water stations, and likely challenged the world record for most gear shifts in less than an hour without the chain falling off.

Then came the run. Finally, the portion of the race I was prepared to do. The 2.9 miles was a piece of cake. When I hit the finish line I still had enough energy to run another 2.9 miles. Of course, so were the rest of the finishers. Most of them had been done for 20-30 minutes. Little embarrassing to be the youngest competitor in the old man division and end up in last place.

Aside from the total lack of preparation and complete ineptitude at swimming and bike riding, I believe I've diagnosed the cause of my poor finish. After years of hearing swimmers, runners, and their coaches talk about finding a comfortable pace and sticking to it, I put it to the test and found a slight flaw in that method:

A comfortable pace for me = a slow pace. A very slow pace.

As previously stated, I accomplished my goal of finishing the triathlon, so all in all it was a great experience. It's also made me more confident about my chances of finishing my first (and likely last) marathon this October in St. George (Yipee!)

And like any event worth commemorating,
I have the lame T-shirt to prove I was there.

Pinewood is for pansies

It's Spring Break in Yuma. Where ...... to ...... go.

Phoenix? San Diego? Disneyland? Havasu? Mexico?

Course not. It's fair week, and that means demolition derby.

I'm not real savvy when it comes to cars. I don't drink beer, and I fast forward through commercials whenever possible.

But after fighting the traffic and high winds to watch the derby, the following came to mind:

"Real men (and one woman) of genius.

Today we salute you, Mr. thrill seeker who rode the bumper cars as a kid and saw his destiny.

Who said four wheels were necessary to get ahead in the automotive world? You have done more to further the concept of a compact car in 30 minutes than the makers at Geo ever did.

Because of you, my friend, 20 fewer drivers with a serious case of road rage are safely off the streets. Therapists around the globe now have an effective method of stress relief.

For recognizing that forward is not the obvious direction in which to travel, finding a use for that half-empty paint can in your garage, and taking the phrase "going down in a blaze of glory" literally.

Real men (and one woman) of genius"

Did I lose anyone? Maybe this will refresh your memory.

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.

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.

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.