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Author: Tyler Mayforth Page 4 of 11

Currently working in New Orleans, Louisiana as a communications assistant for the U.S. Track & Field and Cross Country Coaches Association. Former ink-stained wretch who last worked in Athens, Georgia. This blog is for random musings in my life and career.

On Being A Proud Uncle: You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid

Picture this: It’s 11:55 pm on New Year’s Eve and I’m glued to my phone.

My life is about to change in an amazing way.

I’m going to be an uncle for the first time.

I told my friends that if my sister gave birth to the first baby of the new year, I’d buy rounds for the rest of the night. Knowing the company I kept, that could have been a dangerous proposition — but I couldn’t contain my excitement.

Eventually I got word that Jack entered the world at 1:16 a.m. ET on New Year’s Day. That’s 12:16 a.m. local time in New Orleans, in case you don’t know.

Astronauts could have probably seen my smile from space.

Jack turned out to be the first BOY born that day, but a girl earned the distinction of being the First Baby of 2016. I still bought a round to celebrate.

Fast forward nearly five months and the groundwork was laid for me to finally meet him in person. FaceTime — or any video messaging — is an incredible invention, yet real face time with those you love can’t be beat.

Here’s the thing: I wanted it to be a surprise for my sister.

Every time I talked to my sister on the phone, she told me how she couldn’t wait for me to meet Jack. Based on my schedule, she knew it would be tough for me to find free time outside of Christmas, but held on hope that I could visit beforehand.

That time came this past weekend and I can’t put into words how great it was.

My sister crumpled to her knees upon seeing me sitting the dining room and sobbed out, “Tyler! I can’t believe you’re home.”

Part of me wanted to record her reaction — probably the millennial in me. Check that, definitely the millennial in me. Then I remembered how Lupe Fiasco lambasted someone at the concert I went to about recording the show and ruining the now for the future. Sure, you can see the moment over and over again, but you lose the true feeling of remembering it as it was.

So I let nature take its course and it was something I’ll never forget.

I spent as much time as I could over Memorial Day Weekend with my nephew and the rest of my family, for that matter. Those times are few and far between.

I’ll cherish them more and more from now on.

Kickball Supremacy And Life Lessons From Ric Flair

A wise man once eloquently said, “To be ‘The Man,’ you gotta beat ‘The Man.'”

That man is legendary professional wrestler Ric Flair, who cut some of the best promos during his run at the top of the NWA (National Wrestling Alliance), WCW (World Championship Wrestling) and WWE (World Wrestling Entertainment).

That line sprung to mind last night as “Black Balls 2.0” took on the reigning kickball champion, “Swift Kick in the Grass” during the final game of the regular season. Last time we played them it didn’t go so well. We got destroyed 17-2 in a humbling loss.

This time was a bit different.

Our team defense was flawless once again.

We got breathing room early (four-run first inning).

Pressure didn’t fluster us.

By the time the dust settled on a controversial final play, “Black Balls 2.0” walked out with a 5-4 win.

That thrilling victory pushed our record to 4-1 and we’re currently in second place. A loss earlier this season to “The Alcoballics” — a team that has an identical mark of 4-1 — owns the tie-breaker and the No. 1 seed in the playoffs.

I guess you know what that means: We’ll just have to beat them, too.

P.S. — Since y’all know I love to keep stats, I went 1 for 3 with an RBI single last night. That makes me 9 for 15 on the season with two home runs and eight RBIs.

On Texas State Baseball Beating Texas And Why I Still Care

The streak is over.

Don’t worry, Shocked Undertaker Guy: I don’t want to give you flashbacks. After all, I was in the Superdome with you on that fateful day in 2014 when The Undertaker was pinned in the center of the ring by Brock Lesnar at WrestleMania 30. I’d say I was shocked, but not nearly as flabbergasted (Good word, right?) as you were.

The streak to which I am referring is this one…

You read that right. It had been 11 years since Texas State beat Texas in baseball.

I lived in San Marcos, Texas for a little more than six years (December 2007 until July 2014) and never saw the Bobcats upend the Longhorns. It was borderline maniacal how many times Texas State got within centimeters of beating Texas, just to watch a game slip away in the final innings.

https://twitter.com/tylermayforth/status/732759699683057664

Both of those games were one-run losses.

The first was a 6-5 loss in the Horns’ first trip to San Marcos in the history of the series and that was arguably the best team the Bobcats ever fielded with the top of the lineup consisting of Texas State greats Tyler Sibley, Bret Atwood and Paul Goldschmidt. That loss stung Bobcat fans since a few calls by the umpires swung momentum of the game, yet Ty Harrington’s team still had chances to win.

The second came the next year in Austin where first-year pitcher Carson Smith (who is now a member of the Boston Red Sox) started one of his first games in a Texas State uniform. Smith, who admitted after the game to not knowing about the Bobcats’ past struggles against the Longhorns, twirled a gem. The pitcher with a three-quarters delivery struck out eight and held Texas without a run for 6 1/3 innings. The floodgates unfortunately opened when Smith tired and the bullpen couldn’t stem the tide. The Longhorns scored one run in the seventh to make it 2-1 and answered Texas State’s solo run in the eighth with three of their own to make the final score 4-3 and to add another one-run loss to the Bobcats’ tally.

Now some of you are probably wondering why I just typed 340 words about a team I haven’t covered since 2014. That’s ages ago in the sports-writing world and even longer in my career arc (I have since moved twice — from Texas to Athens, Georgia and then again from Georgia to New Orleans, Louisiana where I am currently working for the USTFCCCA).

I guess I can’t get Texas State completely out of my system. When you spend nearly seven years of your life in one location covering one program, you get attached in a way you never thought you would. Not only to the people, but the town. That’s why I had to collect myself as I drove away from San Marcos on Highway 80.

Well done, Bobcats. Enjoy this one. Don’t riot too much on The Square.

It Was The Fest(ival) Of Times In New Orleans

Of the many things New Orleans does right, festivals and Mardi Gras are on top of the list. Seeing as I already experienced my first Carnival Season, it was time for me to knock off another huge item on my Big Easy Bucket List — Jazz Fest.

For those uninitiated, Jazz Fest — formally known as the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival — is a two-week celebration of culture and music held at the New Orleans Fair Grounds Race Course. It started in 1970 and has since grown into a destination music festival for hundreds of thousands of fans due to the wide variety of artists booked for both weekends, ranging from No Doubt to Neil Young and just about everything in between.

Two days caught my eye the most: the first Sunday and the final Saturday. Red Hot Chili Peppers and J Cole headlined the former, while Snoop Dogg and the legendary Stevie Wonder would close the latter. Fortunately I secured tickets for both days.

The first Sunday, as you can see from the picture above, was absolutely beautiful. There were very few clouds in the sky and the sun scorched down, which made my fair skin a target. Needless to say I forgot a key ingredient for “festing” — a hat.

The next Saturday wasn’t as lovely from a weather standpoint. Ominous clouds hung overhead and eventually it let loose with more than two inches of rain in less than two hours’ time. The Fair Grounds quickly turned into a knee-deep marshland.

A common theme tied together both days, though: Fun.

It didn’t matter what the weather did: People were going to enjoy themselves at Jazz Fest whether the sun beat down or the rain left knee-deep mud around.

Sure, I would have loved to hear Snoop Dogg and Stevie Wonder just as I did Red Hot Chili Peppers and J Cole, but it wasn’t to be. What the second time out there lacked in music made up for in company and good vibes as no one in the tent we were hanging out in allowed the rain to dampen their spirits.

I can see why festivals are a big thing down here. Can’t wait for Voodoo.

Kickball Recap: It Just Keeps Getting Better

If I ever had a better time playing an organized team sport than I did this past Wednesday during our weekly kickball game through the PlayNOLA league, I’d be hard-pressed coming up with it on the spot.

I mean, the first game “The Black Balls” ever played together was pretty epic (Seriously. Read that post), but there was something even more remarkable about the most recent engagement.

Maybe it had a lot to do with how the game transpired.

We trailed 6-1 after the third inning and it really looked like we were about to get blown out. Our defense struggled (mine included) and whenever we had runners in scoring position we’d kick it right to a fielder.

Then something clicked.

We didn’t allow a run the rest of the way, had a few 1-2-3 innings and pushed three runs across to make it 6-4 going into the bottom of the seventh. League rules allow us to play seven innings or an hour, whatever comes first, if it’s not a run rule.

As we switched sides after retiring them in the top of the frame, a guy on the other team said, “This is either going to be a great comeback or an epic choke.”

So which one would it be?

I came up third and with one out and a runner on second, I ripped a shot out of the shortstop’s reach. The ball split the outfielders too and I motored around the bases to score the game-tying run. I clapped loudly and let an expletive fly as I touched home plate as the excitement of the moment washed over me.

Three “batters” and one out later, the winning run crossed home plate. It was a 7-6 victory and we improved to 2-0 on the season.

What I really think made this game special is that we’re all friends now and we know what makes each other tick. We can push each other’s buttons and through that we gel not only as a team, but as a group (if that makes any sense at all). They know I’m ultra competitive and I own it.

Stay tuned as we find out if “The Black Balls” can stay undefeated next week and beat one of the better teams in the league.

Kevin Millwood, No-Hitters And Realizing Time Flies

So I felt my age (30) today.

You know those “Your Memories on Facebook” posts that pop up every now and then to remind you of something you posted X number of years back? Well, one of them showed up on my News Feed today as I did my morning Facebook check.

Seven years ago on this date, I watched Kevin Millwood toss a no-hitter against the San Francisco Giants at Veterans Stadium. The only offense in the 1-0 win came from a solo home run by Ricky Ledee. What a day to spend at the Vet with a good buddy, Nick Gordon.

I should have known I was getting into older territory when I spoke to my coworker about this and he said, “Kevin Millwood? That’s a name you don’t hear every day.” Now my coworker is slightly younger than me and I might know a little more about sports than most, but he’s right: Millwood didn’t have the greatest MLB career (12 years, 169 wins, 4.11 ERA), so why would someone truly remember him?

What really hit home was that I posted that status update on April 27, 2010.

Seeing that I wrote “Seven years ago on this date…” means that on April 27, 2016, it would have been 13 years in the past. Don’t worry, my math checks out. I promise.

I went to The Vet with Nick when we were seniors in high school.

That means that as of this summer, I would have been graduated for 13 years.

Time flies when you’re living, doesn’t it?

Author’s Note: Here’s the box score of the game.

Author’s Note No. 2: I still have the homemade scorecard and ticket framed.

Can’t Believe I’m Living In…

Sometimes it hits me at the strangest times.

Like last week as I drove back from the grocery store.

I just crossed the intersection of Bienville Street and Galvez Street and caught a very brief glimpse of the skyline through a clearing in the trees.

“I’m living in New Orleans.”

I honestly said it out loud as The Weeknd’s “Low Life” played on the radio.

It’s not the first time — and definitely not the last — that those words left my mouth.

I said the same thing at some time about every other location I’ve lived since I started my communications/journalism career nine years ago.

Lebanon, New Hampshire? Can’t remember when, but probably.

Bar Harbor, Maine? Yup. When I sat on the side of Cadillac Mountain after a hike.

San Marcos, Texas? You bet. Hanging out on my ex-girlfriend’s porch in Austin, of all places. I remarked how wild it was to be living in Texas.

Athens, Georgia? For sure. Walking around UGA’s campus.

New Orleans, Louisiana? See above.

My career and pursuit of whatever else is out there for me has taken me places I never thought I’d live. If you asked me right after I graduated if I thought I’d ever be living in New Orleans by the time I was 30, I’d laugh.

Life is all about the road, not the destination.

Better With Practice: My Bowling Tale

Bowling has never been my specialty.

Actually, I’m pretty horrendous at it.

A “good” score for me — or a “successful” game — is when I manage to break 110, which doesn’t happen that often. Truthfully, anything above 100 is a cause for celebration. If my score touches 150, it means the spirit of Pete Weber inhabited my body for that game.

Yet when my kickball team decided to join a bowling league through PlayNOLA to keep the good times rolling after kickball ended, I was all for it. After all, it would be with people that are genuinely fun to hang around with and we’re in the same boat.

PlayNOLA held the league at Fulton Alley, a boutique bowling alley in downtown New Orleans. It’s a little pretentious inside and the pins are oddly set on strings, but all in all it was a fun spot to kill a few hours on a Wednesday night.

The league ended this week and “Ebowla” lost in the semifinals. We didn’t even think we’d make the playoffs, so for us to get that far was an accomplishment.

How did I do? Let’s take a look at my scores over the weeks.

Date
Game 1
Game 2
2/17
119
2/24
111
87
3/1
119
3/9
125
117
3/23
98
106
3/30
153
128

All in all, I guess I didn’t bowl too poorly.

  • My average score was 116.3, which sounds about right. If I knocked a few more pins down on March 23, that average would shoot up quite a bit.
  • I broke 120 three times, which should cue a parade.
  • In the quarterfinals of the playoffs, I felt better in a bowling alley and my score (153) could prove that. I didn’t want to leave any open frames and I only think I left one or two, so that’s a positive.

I’ll never be good at bowling, but it’s a fun way to check your ego.

NCAA Indoor Championships and My (Lack Of) Top-End Speed

The conversation started innocently enough.

The NCAA Division I Indoor Track & Field Championships ended just a few hours before and my coworker and I were wrapping up some work for the USTFCCCA inside the press box at the Birmingham CrossPlex (a fine facility, if I must say).

I looked down at the track and asked him, “How fast do you think I could run a 60?”

“Right now,” he asked.

“Yes,” I responded. “Just like this. Minimal stretching. Wearing what I’m wearing.”

“Nine seconds.”

Gauntlet thrown. Challenge accepted.

Less than 10 minutes later, I crouched at the starting line.

When I got to the NCAA Indoor Championships, I recalled it was my first time at an indoor track & field meet since my final race as a Delaware Blue Hen in 2007.

I never ran a straight-up 60 in my life, so it was going to be an adventure.

On your marks… Go!

I shot out of the blocks and sprinted down Lane 5.

I heard the faint whistle of the air as I hit my top speed and crossed the finish line.

“What did I run?”

“What do you think you ran?”

Before I could answer, a media member ambled out of the press box.

“I had him at 8.55. What did you get?”

“8.76.”

“That sounds right. I started my watch right after he started.”

Let me put my blazing speed in perspective for those uninitiated.

  • If I ran in the men’s 60-meter final, I would have finished dead-last by 1.43 seconds. I mean I would have finished behind Tulsa’s Bryce Robinson, who came in eighth in an eight-man field.
  • TCU’s Ronnie Baker won the 60 in 6.47, which was the third fastest time ever recorded by a collegian indoors.
  • Here’s a fun fact: The men’s 60-meter final was the fastest final ever in the history of the NCAA meet. Five men went 6.60 or faster.

I guess you could say that went 0-60 real quick slow.

Here are a few other thoughts from my weekend in Birmingham, Alabama.

  • Indoor track & field meets always seemed to crawl by when I competed in them, probably because there were so many heats. That wasn’t the case this weekend. I don’t think I had a chance to catch my breath — or run back up to the press box — between finals on Saturday.
  • I thought our coverage was tremendous, which carried over from the NCAA Division I Cross Country Championships in November. I churned out some good content, which you can read here, here, here and here.

Recapping My First Carnival Season In New Orleans

Of all the things I heard in the first few months of moving to New Orleans after accepting my current job with the U.S. Track & Field and Cross Country Coaches Association (USTFCCCA), the most reoccurring refrain was “Just wait til you experience your first Mardi Gras.” More often than not, the next statement someone uttered would be, “Be careful: It’s a marathon, not a sprint.”

Like many Mardi Gras neophytes, I figured Mardi Gras, as a whole, was just one big celebration on Fat Tuesday. I couldn’t have been further from the truth if I tried.

While Mardi Gras is technically the day before Ash Wednesday, Carnival is a two-week-long celebration that features nearly-daily parades run by krewes throughout the city — mainly along the same routes that pass along St. Charles Avenue.

That’s where the marathon-not-a-sprint aspect comes in — well, at least one part of it. The other part is to pace yourself if you enjoy adult beverages, because a bender of an extraordinary length isn’t fun for anybody and downright unhealthy.

Without further ado, here are a few takeaways from my first Carnival in New Orleans.

  • Every parade or krewe has its own special flavor. From Tucks’ satire to Endymion’s audacity, there is something to behold and something special to catch from each one. For example: Tucks threw out bedazzled plungers and toilet brushes; Muses threw tricked-out shoes; Zulu hurls coconuts.
  • This one might be a no-brainer, but Bourbon Street is chaos throughout the two-week span. I walked down it a few times and was invited to check out a balcony party on Monday night and everything you hear about the lewdness and outrageous behavior on Bourbon Street is absolutely true.
  • Doing Carnival activities solo can be fun, but it’s better in a group. There is nothing like staking out a spot to stand and collectively try to catch all of the stuff thrown your way.
  • Walking. Oh, my! The walking. I think I wandered an average of eight miles over the last four days of Carnival. At least I live central to most things.

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