Tyler Mayforth

Official Website of Tyler Mayforth | Delaware Born | NOLA Living

Month: June 2015

Traveling, Savannah and Family Time

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On June 28, 2015

In Georgia

I’m fascinated by travel.

New places. Old places. It doesn’t matter.

More specifically, I’m enthralled with the means of how we get to our destination.

Hundreds of years ago, it would take days or weeks to travel between major cities. Now, you can just drive your car, get on a plane, hop on a train and you’re there.

Last week my family, my girlfriend and I traveled to Savannah, Georgia for a short — but much, much needed vacation. My family (mom, dad and sister) flew down from Delaware (via Philadelphia) while my girlfriend and I drove from The Classic City. It took my family six hours to traverse 720 miles (drove from Atlanta to Savannah); our trip from Athens — a one-way trip of 219 miles — took just about four hours.

Beautiful Savannah

Click for full version.

Once we got to Savannah after an eventful drive down (flat tire, drugged out driver at the gas station at which we filled the tire, being chased by a storm system from right outside of Athens to Savannah, etc.), the beauty struck me. The Spanish-moss draped trees lining the roads, parks and everything about the history stopped me in my tracks. No wonder why General Sherman decided not to torch it during his march through Georgia.

Here are a few more highlights of the truly amazing trip, in bullet form.

  • For as much talk as there is about Savannah’s food scene, it’s warranted. Over the three days in “The Hostess City of the South,” we ate at three different restaurants (not counting the bed and breakfast where we ate breakfast two mornings and the riverboat for dinner) and I left satiated. Coco’s Sunset Grill had a great salmon BLT sandwich; The Olde Pink House, while pricey, was as advertised and the Green Truck Pub has a decent mushroom cheeseburger. By the way, if you’re eating at the Green Truck Pub, bring your own ketchup. You’ll thank me later. Trust me on this.
  • Speaking of that riverboat, I never opened up in public as much as I did while dancing the night away to whatever random songs the hokey DJ and keyboardist decided to play. Surprisingly, I was the only person to join him on the dance floor for “The Wobble.” Living in San Marcos taught me that.

  • My girlfriend and I went on a jet ski tour of Dolphin Bay as well as a little bit of the Atlantic Ocean (who could have thought Hilton Head, South Carolina was that close). Once we got to Dolphin Bay and into the Atlantic Ocean, dolphins were less than 10 feet from us the whole time. Nature is an amazing thing — and scary at the same time with the storms we had.
  • Houses in downtown Savannah are built up, not back. We stayed in a house through Air BnB and it was four stories. Our room was on the fourth floor. Yeah, it got pretty hot up there and those steps were quite steep.

Want to know how great the trip was?

I’m not an emotional person. Ask anybody that knows me.

But when my family left for the airport Thursday afternoon, I couldn’t help but to tear up a bit. This was truthfully a nearly perfect vacation in every single way.

P.S. — I turned 29+1 last Tuesday.

Fenway Park and Memories With Dad

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On June 21, 2015

In Life Stuff, Sports

My girlfriend recently asked me why I’d consider myself a Red Sox fan.

First and foremost, I’m a Phillies fan. Let’s get that out of the way. Most of my top baseball memories occurred while watching the Phillies either at Veterans Stadium, Citizens Bank Park or several road stadiums, including Turner Field last September.

When it’s not possible to watch the Phillies in person, however, I must make simple concessions and last Wednesday was one of those times. I had yet to attend a pro game and the Red Sox were in Atlanta to play the Braves, so we ventured west-ish.

I told my girlfriend that I spent nine summers of my life in New Hampshire at a great summer camp (William Lawrence Camp) and learned to like them through diffusion, but also went to three games at Fenway Park during that span. None of those trips compared to the first time I went to Fenway Park after my first summer at camp.

See, parents had the option of sending their boy(s) away for two weeks, four weeks or eight weeks. Until I moved up the ranks and became a counselor — which came with a mandatory 10-week tenure — my parents chose the four-week option. After all, it would be rather pointless and a lot of money to only spend two weeks there.

My first summer at William Lawrence Camp wasn’t the best as I battled a severe case of homesickness and bullying. Needless to say, I couldn’t wait to see my family when they came to pick me up from camp on July 20, 1996 (Yeah, I looked it up).

Once they rumbled up Federal Corner Road and plucked me and my belongings, we set out on a family trip to Boston, which was about a three-hour drive from camp.

The second day we were in Bean Town, my sister and mom went on an adventure while my dad and I set out on one of our own. Little did I know that when our walk ended, we’d end up in front of Fenway Park with the Red Sox facing the Orioles.

When we got inside the ballpark, my dad told me to follow him as we went to our seats. We kept getting closer and closer and closer and closer. I had to ask him a few times if we were allowed to be there. He said not to worry and sure enough, we sat in our seats — two rows behind home plate. As an 11-year-old, this was just insane.

I still remember the pitching matchup: Roger Clemens vs. Mike Mussina. Like most games I attend, I kept score — but have since lost that scorecard — so I had to look up if it was a pitching duel. Not so much. Clemens and Mussina went deep into the game (Clemens was lifted in the eighth; Mussina after seven), but weren’t as sharp as they could be (Clemens allowed five runs on eight hits; Mussina three on five).

I also remember there being a game-tying home run in the ninth inning (Jeff Manto hit it), but little else. Evidently Baltimore won 10-6 after scoring five in the 10th.

Everything about that day still make me smile to this day. I couldn’t see my face that day, but I am sure it broke through my face like a cartoon since it was that big.

My girlfriend also said something while we were sitting on the tailgate of her SUV before the game (and I’m paraphrasing) — “Don’t laugh at me, but there’s something magical about the ballpark. I don’t know what it is, but it’s just there.” I laughed like a boyfriend is supposed to, but deep down I couldn’t help but to agree with her.

June Means Teamwork, Texas Water Safari

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On June 14, 2015

In Texas Water Safari

June in San Marcos, Texas means two things: oppressive heat and the Texas Water Safari. I found out both of these things quickly at the start of my lengthy Texan stint.

When temperatures soar past the 100-degree mark, locals take to the San Marcos River to float and hang out or they stay inside in the comfort of air conditioning. As a Yankee, the first option appealed to me at first, but the second grew on me.

Come to think of it: Is there a better way to enjoy the river than to paddle 260 miles on it from San Marcos to Seadrift during “The World’s Toughest Canoe Race?” Well, probably — but there are hundreds of paddlers each year who accept the challenge.

Back in 2013, I was one of those folks testing their will against the unforgiving river. As part of the British reality TV show “Go Hard or Go Home,” my team (consisting of a 22-year-old female bartender from England and I) had to make it 85 miles from San Marcos to Gonzales in two days. We made it 33 before they pulled the cord.

Teamwork means everything in the Texas Water Safari and suffice to say, Emma and I didn’t have what it took. To be fair, we only started paddling together two days earlier and after flipping the canoe three times that day, I knew it would be an incredible feat to complete the challenge. Needless to say, I gave it everything I had.

Even before I jumped in the canoe with Emma, I knew teamwork was a cornerstone of the Texas Water Safari. Not only does that go for the people in the canoes, but all of the auxiliary team captains, support staff — plus journalists covering the event.

Every June I put a lot of effort into making our Texas Water Safari top-notch. From previews to features to everything in between, no one was going to do it better.

The last Safari I covered was probably my best because of the resources I had. Not only did I always have my trusted freelance photographer Gerald Castillo on the hunt, I hired Joe Vozzelli a few months earlier and like myself, he has a strong work ethic. We canvassed Friday’s check-in for features, staked out incredible vantage points for pictures on Saturday, then turned out what I’d say was a stellar section.

Take a look at that section and tell me you wouldn’t want to read everything in it.

I’m a bit crestfallen I don’t get to cover it this year, but 6 years of memories endure.

Don’t Let Mistakes Keep You Down

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On June 10, 2015

In Journalism

It stared at me as soon as I walked in the office on Tuesday.

As I got closer to my desk, the purple circle punched me in my gut.

When I sat down and took a deeper look, I felt sick to my stomach.

After a conversation that afternoon about mistakes in display type (or headlines to those not in journalism) in general, I not only busted one, but also got the person’s name wrong in the mug. If there was any saving grace — to be honest, there isn’t any — it was on an inside page. Still, to have that happen the day of a discussion sucked.

I let it affect me much longer than I choose to admit and went on autopilot not too long after. I went right to work on paginating Op-Ed, and halfway through I found out that wasn’t my duty for the day. I only had to do sports. Oh well, I still finished it.

For some reason, while wallowing in my mistake-borne malaise, a scene from the newest Rocky move (“Rocky Balboa”) played in my mind. Yeah, I don’t know either.

All right, if we’re being completely honest here, that scene didn’t play in my mind. It just seemed so right to put in here. And when it comes down to it, that’s what I did.

I shook whatever funk I had and wanted to make sure today’s sports section sang. I put my all behind every section I design, but this one had extra motivation behind it.

Our centerpiece was a lengthy feature on the evolution of tight ends by a Georgia Grady School student. From what I understand, they write a tome as part of their curriculum and get extra credit if it runs in the newspaper. We had several others grace our section and each time I made sure it looked good for them to have a clip.

And remember what I said about good art making a centerpiece? Today’s picture, taken by AJ Reynolds, recently won top honors from the Georgia Press Association. You’ll see why. It would be a true travesty if it didn’t win, because the lighting hits it perfectly and the action inside the frame — as well as the reactions — are golden.

So there you have it. Today was quite the adventure, but with every mistake you make in life, you can either let it eat you alive or learn from it and move on.

I’ll try to do better next time. It’s all about growth, right?

Elation, Pressure and the Belmont Stakes

By

On June 7, 2015

In Journalism, Sports

Elation to buried under mounds of self-induced pressure.

That’s how my Saturday night went on desk at the Banner-Herald.

Why? Well, I’m glad you asked.

Around 6:40 p.m., I walked from our downtown office to Mellow Mushroom on my way to getting dinner. Thanks to my reconnaissance during trivia nights, I knew that place had a lot of TVs and a low-pressure waitstaff, which would allow me to settle in and potentially watch history be made with a plethora of other cheering patrons.

See, American Pharoah needed to win the Belmont Stakes on Saturday to complete the elusive Triple Crown. It had been 37 years since Affirmed last did so in 1978.

I’m one of those folks who, like many I’m sure, loves to see sports history unfold in front of their eyes. Needless to say, I wanted to be in front of a TV on Saturday.

Sure enough, American Pharoah led wire-to-wire and pulled away at the end for a comfortable victory. I exchanged high-fives with people around me and walked out.

I had more important things to do, like design an eye-catching centerpiece. Oh, boy!

Once I got back to the office and got settled, I began to sift through the avalanche of images the Associated Press snapped at Belmont Park. I pulled a few that caught my attention and knew eventually they’d post one that would pull everything together.

I cycled through designs and suddenly felt a load of stress on my shoulders. It wasn’t like deadline staring me down (I still had a few hours), but the self-induced pressure of being a perfectionist. I wanted the front page of the sports section to pop since it was a big moment and let’s face it — how many are on desk when history happens?

Time marched on and while I had something on the page that looked good enough, it wasn’t great. I wasn’t going to accept anything less than great in my eyes, so I hit delete and combed through the AP’s stockpile again until something stood out.

Eventually I found an aerial of the finish, which had enough air for me to work with.

Then I found a sidebar from the AP that broke down the keys to victory in the race.

Slowly, but surely, the puzzle came together until I truly liked the finished result.

What UDXC/TF Really Meant To Me

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On June 6, 2015

In Life Happenings, Sports

I never expected to be a Division I athlete.

Heck, as a high school freshman I was 5-foot-1, 105 pounds. If that.

During freshman orientation at Mount Pleasant High School (Go Green Knights), they had tables set up in the library manned by various sports coaches.Scrawny me went up to the football table and got laughed away. Seriously, what was I thinking? Then I walked across the room to the cross country table and they welcomed me with open arms. I’m sure they never turned someone away, probably for the better.

And after one failed attempt at playing baseball my freshman year, I turned my full attention toward running (cross country and track). Funny story: The football coach was also the track coach, like many are, and chuckled when he saw me come out.

Over the next four years I grew physically (Thank God) and athletically. By the time I was a junior, I became a decent runner. Then my senior year it all came together.

I placed fourth at the state cross country meet, seventh in the 1,600-meter run of the state track and field meet and third in the 3,200-meter run at the same event. I capped my prep career at the Meet of Champions, where I ran 10:06 in the 3,200.

Fast forward nine months and I toed the starting line as a varsity member of the University of Delaware track and field team. What happened between May 2003 and March 2004 isn’t really important. I ended up at UD, mainly because of the in-state tuition, went out for cross country/track and field because I knew I loved to run and before I knew it, I ran the 10,000 meters at the Monmouth Invitational.

Over the next four years I ran in plenty more races, lettered three times in cross country as well as indoor and outdoor track, but that’s not what sticks with me.

Eight years after my last race, I still feel as if I have the confidence that becoming a Division I athlete gave me. I worked hard for that. While I ostracized (or vilified) myself from the team — and today that remains as one of my biggest regrets — the feeling of being a part of something and the accomplishment of putting myself in that position to succeed urges me on not only in my athletic endeavors, but life.

There I am! And boy, am I white. (Photo courtesy DelawareOnline.com)

Today, no other guys can embark on that road since the University of Delaware axed the varsity cross country and track teams back in 2011. Our coach since left for greener pastures and only remnants remain in the form of two club teams.

Recently, an effort has been made to restore the program. According to that story from The News Journal in Wilmington, Delaware, a father of a runner who was on the team when it was cut filed a complaint to the Delaware Division of Human Relations that states the University of Delaware violated a state law in doing so.

Who knows how far it will go — if it gains any traction at all. I hope it creates some kind of ripple that will end the same way the recent fiasco involving the University of Alabama at Birmingham football program did — with it being fully reinstated.

I’m not going to get my hopes up, but I’ll keep my fingers crossed there’s good news.

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Now’s probably one of the best time to post that clip of me nearly killing myself (not really) during the 3,000-meter steeplechase. Even made America’s Funniest Videos.

Being Alone Isn’t All That Bad

By

On June 5, 2015

In Life Stuff

Thursday is a weird day to have off work.

If it’s Tuesday or Wednesday, you know where to find me.

Recently Thursday switched with Tuesday and it’s a different story.

Today I decided to treat myself to a matinee showing at the movie theater. My ultimate decision came down to “Entourage” or “Mad Max: Fury Road.”

As serious internal debate raged as I weighed the validity of each option.

“Entourage” is a guilty pleasure of mine. How can it not be? It’s “Sex and the City” for men. I watched each and every episode of the show — and also have them all on my computer to pull up at a moment’s notice — and felt compelled to finish the run.

Then there was “Mad Max: Fury Road” and all of the praise it received from critics. Plus, it has all the makings of a great summer movie (tons of action and little plot).

Ultimately I decided on “Mad Max: Fury Road.” I could easily Redbox “Entourage” and not miss out on anything in the viewing experience that I would in the theater.

So I bought my ticket and went alone. If not for five other people who showed up five minutes before showtime, I would have been the only person in the theater.

I don’t mean this to be a sob story, actually the furthest thing from it. The movie was a blast (probably a much better pick than “Entourage”) and I don’t mind being alone.

Don’t get me wrong: I love hanging out with other people and being part of a team. In fact, I can’t wait to see my family in less than three weeks as they’re coming down to Georgia to celebrate me and my sister turning 30. Yeah, that one crept up fast.

But I truly don’t mind being alone. For the past eight years or so, I’ve been off on my own as I’ve embarked on creating my career from Maine to Texas and now Georgia.

Maybe being a journalist helped me learn how to function well alone. After all, you often chase a story by yourself, write by yourself, travel by yourself and all of that.

Some of the more recent positive happenings in my life have been after I branched out completely on my own. I did a solo road trip to New Orleans for WrestleMania 30 and loved every second of it after I got over the initial fear. I went to trivia alone the first few times, trying my best to hang tough with the better teams. I met my girlfriend after going to Terrapin Brewing Company alone on a spur of the moment.

I’m sure there are others and probably many more to come as I blaze my own trail.

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