Wednesday, October 31, 2007
It's all you
In honor of Halloween, I'm going to be a mime and shut up! Comment on anything you want. If you need suggestions, can I offer: free tacos, Rocktober depression, Brighton's new multi-purpose "not just a baseball stadium" event center, your favorite Halloween costume or just your general thoughts on this blog and why you are here again today when you should really be working. Happy Halloween!
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
W.W.W.D
NBC Nightly News anchor Brian Williams is slated to host Saturday Night Live on, wait for it, Saturday night. My first thought is this is completely blurring the lines between news and entertainment. It would be like me being a reporter and then trying to maintain a humorous blog. I emphasize "trying." Since I have yet to be successful, I see no conflict. Don't get me wrong. I like Williams a lot – way more than that lousy, no-good, phony Chuck Gibson (Sorry, I lost a bet, on ABC or that slutty, manipulative tease Katie Couric (bad breakup) on the Eyeball network. But like any good time loving girl in the bar, thinking about taking that bloak in the corner home for a romp, I can't help but wonder, "Will I still respect him in the morning>" Will your spoof of Britney Spears' children being abducted by the ghost of Anna Nicole Birkhead-Stern-Leo-Fred-Jack-Smith still be funny on Monday when you're reporting on the crisis in the Middle East, provided we'll even have a newscast with him off, fishing for yucks. I think back to the respected anchors of the past – the patriarchs that inspired me to be in this business or at least comb my hair. I look down at the yellow band on my wrist and wonder, W.W.W.D. (What Would Walter Do?)
Monday, October 29, 2007
A baseball fan reborn
So this is how winter starts.
Until today, it had been with chilly evenings, fallen leaves and one last, luscious tease of Indian summer.
But now, as a child of 28, I know that the cold arrives on a long fly ball to the left field warning track and one, last stinging strikeout.
As I drove home on I-25 from watching the final Rockies game Sunday night, not because I was there or even got a whiff of buying two overpriced, lousy seats, I couldn't help but think I saw a snowflake fall against the fading glow of the lights of Coors Field.
There is and will be much written about the 2007 Colorado Rockies. Hopefully, in time, the totality of their remarkable run will dim criticisms including one pious Denver sports columnist who declared they "choked" on the national stage.
But I will credit the Rockies with forever changing the seasons in this state and, hopefully, I can make the argument without sparing you any more euphemisms built on Rockies and October.
I kept doting on all the things this month that I'd never done before like celebrating my birthday with a Rockies victory and carving pumpkins in anticipation of the big Rockies game, violently smacking my computer monitor in what the Rockies would call a "malicious attack” and wondering how I would reschedule trick-or-treating for my daughter if we got to a game 6.
And then, just like that, it was all over.
Does the air feel a little colder this week? The grass a little less green. I caught myself in a moment of despair thinking about the bleakness of the winter ahead.
And then I understood.
Cubs fans weren't so crazy anymore.
And now the thought of all that shoveling ahead (please not as much as last year) and those dreary days give way to one thought: spring.
Spring training won't just be glorified practice next year. It is now a beacon – a light of hope guiding us through the changing of seasons.
And there are no guarantees of World Series visits every year. With these owners, we'll just pray we have three out fielders.
But, from now, this is how winter really starts. I didn't know what I was missing.
Until today, it had been with chilly evenings, fallen leaves and one last, luscious tease of Indian summer.
But now, as a child of 28, I know that the cold arrives on a long fly ball to the left field warning track and one, last stinging strikeout.
As I drove home on I-25 from watching the final Rockies game Sunday night, not because I was there or even got a whiff of buying two overpriced, lousy seats, I couldn't help but think I saw a snowflake fall against the fading glow of the lights of Coors Field.
There is and will be much written about the 2007 Colorado Rockies. Hopefully, in time, the totality of their remarkable run will dim criticisms including one pious Denver sports columnist who declared they "choked" on the national stage.
But I will credit the Rockies with forever changing the seasons in this state and, hopefully, I can make the argument without sparing you any more euphemisms built on Rockies and October.
I kept doting on all the things this month that I'd never done before like celebrating my birthday with a Rockies victory and carving pumpkins in anticipation of the big Rockies game, violently smacking my computer monitor in what the Rockies would call a "malicious attack” and wondering how I would reschedule trick-or-treating for my daughter if we got to a game 6.
And then, just like that, it was all over.
Does the air feel a little colder this week? The grass a little less green. I caught myself in a moment of despair thinking about the bleakness of the winter ahead.
And then I understood.
Cubs fans weren't so crazy anymore.
And now the thought of all that shoveling ahead (please not as much as last year) and those dreary days give way to one thought: spring.
Spring training won't just be glorified practice next year. It is now a beacon – a light of hope guiding us through the changing of seasons.
And there are no guarantees of World Series visits every year. With these owners, we'll just pray we have three out fielders.
But, from now, this is how winter really starts. I didn't know what I was missing.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Halftime speech
I know your discouraged about the final score of last night's Rockies game. May I offer some insight? Give the Red Sox all the credit, the best team won today and the final score is the only statistic that matters. The Rockies were outplayed in every phase of the game. The Red Sox simply wanted it more than they did. The young Rox had their chances but they let them slip away and they came up a little short. Who cares about moral victories? They simply caught us on an off night. It just wasn't meant to be. They out-hustled us. They out-muscled us. They out-coached us. We got a wake-up call. We just weren't mentally prepared. We came out flat. We beat ourselves. We only have to look in the mirror. They ate our lunch. This is a bitter pill to swallow, but please eat your lunch first so you don't upset your stomach. I take full responsibility for this loss. We didn't get the job done. Not to take away anything from them, but we didn't play like we're capable of playing. My hat's off to them. I tip my hat to them. You've got to hand it to them and my hat too. The best team won today. We can still hold our heads high.These guys have nothing to be ashamed of. They just made the big plays and we didn't. They stepped up and made the plays. We didn't match their intensity.
Let's win one for the Gipper!
Let's win one for the Gipper!
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Five years of oops and awes
As I mentioned last week, I'm preparing to mark my five-year anniversary here at the paper. Perhaps, you've received the fliers for the large party happening at the Bella Sera. Perhaps, you'll let my boss know since we kind of need her to pay for it (Thanks, Karen).
When I think back on the last five years, so many memories seem to meld together. Of course, I started here as an education reporter (a tenuous role for someone at this paper) at the time. I learned quickly about the difference between reporter and cheerleader. Because I remember how excited I was for the school district when it looked like they had gotten their new high school in 2003. And how stupid I felt interviewing people about what a great moment it was, when it turned out to be untrue.
And I learned about the dangers of placing opinion in story when I took a slant to the planned Brighton Pavilions and questions about whether the site would work or not. City folk weren't happy (they really never are) and some cast me as being negative. Lesson learned. I tell my stories straight up – each side represented and me quietly in the middle. It's not flashy but I feel better about it.
It served me well when I was temporarily deported to Fort Lupton (just kidding) where there are always two sides to everything. Fort Lupton taught me a lot about my myself as a reporter. It's a tough job being a young kid handling a whole paper, trying to represent so many divergent points. It's devastating when a city official leaves you a message telling you that your story is wrong and people are sick of you not keeping your facts straight. It's gratifying when you were right all along. Thick skin comes quickly in this business, but slowly for self-conscious people like me.
Fort Lupton also gave me the chance to tell the story of Brian – a young autistic boy. It showed me the power we can have sometimes to tell meaningful stories.
Of course, as a notorious critic of my own work, the mistakes stand out. During the 2003 election, I mangled the names of two kind people who invited me in to their home to talk about their opposition to the new high school. Getting a last name wrong is understandable, botching a first name and changing a man into a woman is horrific. I'm sure those people still remember me and don't talk to the media any longer as a result. Just know I'm still mortified and every time I drive by your house, I still give myself an obligatory head slap. People look at me weird now when I ask them to spell their names especially when it's Bill but I don't care.
Being a courts and crime reporter, I'm still walking that fine line between duty and sleazy. I have a hard time chasing ambulances, a harder time calling grieving families and demanding their story immediately (Don't worry, 9News, that's still all you. I want to sleep at night). I remember a few years ago, I eagerly responded to a high school fireworks stand that had been toppled by a microburst in the K-Mart parking lot. I was eagerly snapping pictures as parents tried to clean up the mess when one angry mother yelled, "Can you stop taking pictures so we can clean it up?" It was a good thing I was only 15 feet away or I would have really been a nuisance.
People ask me what's next. Where do I want to go? A big paper, perhaps. I'll be political because it's that time of year. If you would have asked me five years ago if I would still be here, I would have laughed (just on the grounds of the original management.) But, in addition to enjoying the work, I have a family here, albeit a sometimes strange family but I love them all including the dog. Yes, we have a dog, the boss said if we're really good we can have a hamster next.
So as long as I'm here, this is where I want to be. I know, I could run a presidential campaign on the ambiguity of that statement. Hope you've enjoyed the past five years, or however long you've been along, and here's to five more!
When I think back on the last five years, so many memories seem to meld together. Of course, I started here as an education reporter (a tenuous role for someone at this paper) at the time. I learned quickly about the difference between reporter and cheerleader. Because I remember how excited I was for the school district when it looked like they had gotten their new high school in 2003. And how stupid I felt interviewing people about what a great moment it was, when it turned out to be untrue.
And I learned about the dangers of placing opinion in story when I took a slant to the planned Brighton Pavilions and questions about whether the site would work or not. City folk weren't happy (they really never are) and some cast me as being negative. Lesson learned. I tell my stories straight up – each side represented and me quietly in the middle. It's not flashy but I feel better about it.
It served me well when I was temporarily deported to Fort Lupton (just kidding) where there are always two sides to everything. Fort Lupton taught me a lot about my myself as a reporter. It's a tough job being a young kid handling a whole paper, trying to represent so many divergent points. It's devastating when a city official leaves you a message telling you that your story is wrong and people are sick of you not keeping your facts straight. It's gratifying when you were right all along. Thick skin comes quickly in this business, but slowly for self-conscious people like me.
Fort Lupton also gave me the chance to tell the story of Brian – a young autistic boy. It showed me the power we can have sometimes to tell meaningful stories.
Of course, as a notorious critic of my own work, the mistakes stand out. During the 2003 election, I mangled the names of two kind people who invited me in to their home to talk about their opposition to the new high school. Getting a last name wrong is understandable, botching a first name and changing a man into a woman is horrific. I'm sure those people still remember me and don't talk to the media any longer as a result. Just know I'm still mortified and every time I drive by your house, I still give myself an obligatory head slap. People look at me weird now when I ask them to spell their names especially when it's Bill but I don't care.
Being a courts and crime reporter, I'm still walking that fine line between duty and sleazy. I have a hard time chasing ambulances, a harder time calling grieving families and demanding their story immediately (Don't worry, 9News, that's still all you. I want to sleep at night). I remember a few years ago, I eagerly responded to a high school fireworks stand that had been toppled by a microburst in the K-Mart parking lot. I was eagerly snapping pictures as parents tried to clean up the mess when one angry mother yelled, "Can you stop taking pictures so we can clean it up?" It was a good thing I was only 15 feet away or I would have really been a nuisance.
People ask me what's next. Where do I want to go? A big paper, perhaps. I'll be political because it's that time of year. If you would have asked me five years ago if I would still be here, I would have laughed (just on the grounds of the original management.) But, in addition to enjoying the work, I have a family here, albeit a sometimes strange family but I love them all including the dog. Yes, we have a dog, the boss said if we're really good we can have a hamster next.
So as long as I'm here, this is where I want to be. I know, I could run a presidential campaign on the ambiguity of that statement. Hope you've enjoyed the past five years, or however long you've been along, and here's to five more!
Music voting suspended
I have suspended the weekly "pick the song" music voting as we re-evaluate it's usefulness. I can't believe you picked Vanessa Carlton. Yes, the argument could be made that I put it up as an option and, thus, I'm partly to blame. But, as sophisticated readers of my blog, I expect better from you. I expect a high standard from you that in any situation – be it bank robbery, drunken slumber or drug-induced coma – you will never pick Vanessa Carlton for any reason. This, of course, comes a week after you chose bad-mommy Britney to grace this precious bastion of Internet fare. My faith is shaken. I encourage you to spend this week thinking about what good music is and the danger of cluttering the Internet with crap.
Thank you,
Kevin
P.S. I'm really just out of ideas for songs. Don't take it too hard.
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