Tyler Mayforth

Official Website of Tyler Mayforth | Delaware Born | NOLA Living

On the Move Again: Hello, New Orleans

A little more than two years ago I drove to New Orleans, nervous but excited.

As it turns out, not much changes in the span of 859 days.

Back in 2013, I decided to attend WrestleMania 30 by myself. I had never been to The Big Easy, let alone stepped out of my comfort zone that much. As I opened my mind to what could happen and the overall experience, I began to reap the rewards. Not only did I see one of the best WrestleMania cards of all-time, I truly liked what I saw of New Orleans. There was an indescribable charm and buzz surrounding it all.

Next Tuesday I head back to New Orleans. This time, however, will be for keeps.

I turned in my resignation at the Athens Banner-Herald on Monday.

In two weeks, I’ll continue my career as communications assistant for the U.S. Track and Field Cross Country Coaches Association (USTFCCCA).

I need to pause a second to read those two sentences again. These past two weeks have been a whirlwind, to say the least. Life happens when you truly least expect it.

This will be my fourth move since August 2007, as you can see on the above graphic. I’ll be retracing 540 of the 1,208 miles I traversed when I moved last July from San Marcos, Texas to Athens, Georgia. If you’re counting at home, which I am sure you are, this trip from Athens to New Orleans will put me at 4,622 lifetime miles moved.

I’ll have my dad with me again to help, just like I did when I went up to Maine as well as my trip from Texas to Georgia. These trips allow us to grow closer, which is great.

There are a million things running through my mind at the moment, but I felt it was a good idea to break this news on my blog. Check back in the upcoming days, because I’m sure I’ll have more to say about this truly great opportunity I have in front of me.

Fantasy Baseball, Video Games and Random Musings

As I was driving home from work, a bunch of different ideas came to me for a post, but none of them I could really flesh out. So here are those thoughts in bullet form.

This is what we’ll call another ‘Random Musings’ post from yours truly. Away we go.

  • Like most males my age — or most males in general — I get pretty good at video games. About 10 years ago, the greatest baseball game of all-time came out (MVP 2005). Being half-decent at baseball in general, I picked up the game pretty well and six months to one year later, I was ranked No. 3 in the world on PlayStation 2 online. I shouldn’t be too proud about that since I probably wasted a lot of time playing that game. Speaking of which, one of my addictions a few years ago was Mass Effect 3. My old roommate got me hooked on the online multiplayer aspect of it and I cracked the Top 100 of a few leaderboards. I’m truly embarrassed to admit how much time I spent playing that game. I just looked it up — 706 hours, 15 minutes, 45 seconds.
  • Video games are an every-now-and-then type of thing for me now, but I’m quite fond of fantasy baseball as a way to kill time. Only in one league this season, but that’s more than enough. Currently I’m sitting in first place, 7 games up on second place. We go H2H, compared to Roto (if you can’t tell). My team isn’t anything special, so I am thinking we’re just getting by on smoke and mirrors, which is all right with me. Just traded for Bryce Harper and Manny Machado so we’ll see how that works out the rest of the way.
  • Did you read my tome about the CONCACAF Gold Cup? I had a great time writing about my thoughts and an even better time at the game. Check it!
  • Trivia Playoffs start this week! Even though we missed last week because of the game, the host assured we were in the running. We won earlier this summer and finished respectably the rest of the way, so as long as we hold our own, we should be able to make some noise. If not, we’ll bomb out. As our team motto goes: “If you’re going to lose, lose big.” It’s how you learn.
  • Played disc golf last week for the first time in a while. Needed to clear my head and that’s a great place to do it. Shot even par and should have went under par if it weren’t for a lazy approach on No. 16. Damn you, disc gods!

I don’t have much else. Thanks again for reading my random musings on this post.

An Unforgettable Experience at the CONCACAF Gold Cup

Bucket List items, by definition, should blow your socks off.

No one says, “I really want to go to  the grocery store before I die.” I mean, if that person was starving to death, sure, but in general they are more along the lines of going sky diving or traveling to an exotic country. It’s a “Bucket List” for a reason.

While I don’t have a Bucket List for my entire life, there are some things I’d love to see when it comes to sporting events. Going to an international soccer match was on that list. Whether it was inside the United States or outside of the borders, it didn’t matter. I just wanted to be in the atmosphere and feel the thrill of it all.

Consider that item crossed off as I went to the semifinals of the CONCACAF Gold Cup in Atlanta last Wednesday. Two matches for the price of one. Can’t beat that.

In an effort to flesh this experience out fully, I’ll break this post into two sections. In the first, I’ll discuss the atmosphere (tailgate, crowd, etc) and the second, the game.

Walking into the Gold Cup

Everything I Could Have Imagined

As soon as we parked and stepped outside the car, we became immersed in a wild, multicultural party outside the Georgia Dome. Everywhere you looked you saw a group of Americans next to Mexicans next to Panamanians and some Jamaicans. Country blended into rap, which blended into Tejano and salsa and steel drums. I probably don’t have to mention the mix of languages, since it’s easy to figure out.

Inside the stadium, the demographic was more pronounced. I’d say 70 percent of the crowd was Mexican, 25 percent was American and the rest were a mixture of Jamaicans and Panamanians. For as boisterous as the American Outlaws say they are, Mexicans fans put them to shame. Even when Mexico trailed Panama late in the second half, the Mexicans were in full voice. The same couldn’t be said for the U.S. contingent as soon as Jamaica scored its first goal off an inexplicably missed header.

Where the Mexican fans lose points, however, is the lack of class it showed most of the game. Either with pointed chants and especially throwing trash on the pitch. It wasn’t every fan in attendance doing these things, but it left a sour impression.

Overall, the atmosphere rocked. It was exactly what I imagined it to be.

So About Those Matches…

Where do I possibly start?

By the time we reached our seats, the United States Men’s National Team was on its heels. A short time later, Jamaica scored on that lousy throw-in and there was no energy left in the Georgia Dome at all from the American side. It was eerily silent.

From talking to the supporters around us, it was evident the USMNT didn’t come out with much emotion or urgency and we saw it with our own eyes. Their attacks were one step behind and Jamaica intercepted each pass over the middle. If there was a back line out there for the USMNT, I didn’t see them. Wait, there was one?

Then there was that beautiful free kick from Jamaica that descended the American faithful deeper into a sense of shock. Just take a look at this goal. Truly unstoppable.

There was a glimmer of hope early in the second half when Michael Bradley scored to bring the USMNT within 2-1. It wasn’t a gorgeous goal, but gave them some life.

From there, however, the USMNT had other chances but couldn’t capitalize. Such was the story of the USMNT against an average goalkeeper in net for Jamaica.

That’s where the night ended, right? I mean nothing notable happened in the second game. The referees were fair and allowed Mexico and Panama to play a clean game.

You could tell the fix was in from early in the first half and it was incredible to watch Panama fight through all of that adversity and come within seconds of the upset.

That’s really all I’ll say about the second match, but here are some videos from it.

Wrapping It Up

All in all, I had a blast. It was an unforgettable experience and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Maybe next time the United States could win. That would be dandy.

CONCACAF Gold Cup And My Sports Bucket List

By the time you read this, I’ll already be on my way — or already have been — to the Georgia Dome to watch the semifinals of the CONCACAF Gold Cup. The first game pits the United States against Jamaica; Mexico takes on Panama in the second clash.

Tickets have been sold out for more than a week. Prices on second-hand sites rose $15 or more across the board in the day it took me to decide to go. It’s going to be mayhem inside the Georgia Dome as more than 70,000 fans will be chanting back and forth throughout both games, trying to will their nations into the title match.

To be honest, it didn’t take me that long to know I wanted to go. Soccer, more so international soccer, had my heart since I went to summer camp in New Hampshire.

There was such an international influence at William Lawrence Camp each summer that you heard counselors argue and debate about their favorite club teams. When the World Cup happened — and I think I was there for one or two — chaos reigned.

Near the end of each summer, counselors would trade personal tokens, which often would included soccer jerseys being swapped for regional items from the U.S. There were two summers in a row where I brought home a Portugal national team jersey and one from Hertha BSC Berlin (Yeah, I don’t really know either, but go with it).

After I quit going back to William Lawrence Camp, I bought a new jersey every year from an online store. One spring my sister went abroad to England and brought me a reversible national jersey, which was absolutely one of my favorites to show off.

Through those purchases and trades, I grew to like soccer more. I don’t mind kicking the ball around — even though I still toe it when I shoot — and even served as goalie for the camp’s counselor team in our annual grudge match against Belknap. Yet, the true joy comes from watching soccer being played at the highest level — Premier League, UEFA Champions League, CONCACAF Gold Cup and the highest of them all, the World Cup. Last year I think I watched every game the United States played in Brazil and caught a majority of the other matches. The camaraderie that comes from cheering for your nation is second to none and one of the best memories was when I was in the St. Louis airport coming back from my interview in Athens and we huddled around this one bar that had one TV to watch the game against Belgium.

Today I’ll watch many of those same players from the United States Men’s National Team try to reach a sixth consecutive CONCACAF Gold Cup final. From what I’ve read about Jamaica, this game won’t be easy for the Yanks. Jamaica hasn’t allowed a goal in 287 minutes or something crazy like that and they always play them tough.

Win or lose, I’m really excited to see an international soccer game. I’m fired up to be in that atmosphere and will cross off yet another item from my sports bucket list.

P.S. — You should read the game story I wrote on a soccer match earlier this year.

P.P.S. — I know it’s Wednesday night, but I got a team member holding trivia down.

Happy One Year Anniversary, Tyler Mayforth and Georgia

Allow this to be a disclaimer for this post: I have no idea how I’m going to format it. Most likely it will be a free-form type where I just post running thoughts. Anyway…

I don’t know when it was, but I recently celebrated my one-year anniversary living in Georgia. Yes, I, Tyler Mayforth, have been in the Peach State for about 365 days.

I say I don’t know when it was, but I could look back — or ask my dad, who helped to move me from Texas to Georgia — and find the exact date. For some reason, July 10 sticks out to me as my last day at the San Marcos Daily Record. My last column ran July 11, which would have been the following day. And for another reason, July 17 jumps out to me as the day I started at the Athens Banner-Herald. I could be wrong.

Over the past year, I’ve matured a great deal and been humbled more than I choose to admit. Life teaches you lessons when you think you have it all figured out. I’ll take those opportunities and not regret what I’ve done because I learned from each one. Am I proud of any of them? Not one bit. But they’ve happened — and I’m stronger.

Moving to Georgia put me in a foreign land and broke me out of my comfort zone. I’ve tried to explore as much of this state as possible, but there is still so much more to see and I plan to as soon as I am able. I hit several state parks, saw a bowl game in the Georgia Dome, had an awesome vacation in Savannah and discovered a bunch of great disc golf courses around the area. Later this week, I’ll be headed to Atlanta once again to see the semifinals of the Gold Cup. I read the Georgia Dome was sold out and with it being full of soccer fans, I can only imagine how much fun it will be.

Working at the Banner-Herald pushes me and molds me into a better journalist and co-worker. It’s still jarring to think this is my first full year at a daily newspaper. I’d like to think I’m holding my own and bringing my own style to the readers each day.

When it comes down to it, Georgia — and the Banner-Herald, for that matter — became my “What if?” Now, it’s my “What is.” A smidgen over one year later, I’m glad to have taken the opportunity and turned into the person I am today.

I Actually Like The Home Run Derby

I’m not going to lie: I actually like the Home Run Derby.

The NBA Dunk Contest can go up in flames for all I care, but if the Home Run Derby ever ceases to exist, Major League Baseball will get a strongly worded letter from me (with or without letters cut out from magazines, I haven’t decided). Yes, yours truly would actually spend the time to write a physical letter and not send an email.

Like everything else in my life, things I truly enjoy come down to nostalgia. Believe it or not, the Home Run Derby tickles my memory chords just like the Boston Red Sox.

I make sure to watch the Home Run Derby every year. I can’t remember the first one I ever saw but the last one was Monday night when Todd Frazier won in Cincy.

But, Tyler, what happened during those nine summers when you were at summer camp? Good question. After all, the Home Run Derby often falls around the same time every summer (second Monday in July) and that would have been right at the start of the third week of the first session at William Lawrence Camp. My parents were awesome and taped the Home Run Derby — as well as the All-Star Game — every summer so I could watch it when I got home. To be perfectly honest, when I got home, I went right to those tapes every single time. I’m a creature of habit.

Other than the nostalgia, I love the Home Run Derby because I’m a baseball fan, first and foremost. My favorite sports memories as a fan were often at a ballpark.

Secondly, who doesn’t like seeing professional ball players crush mammoth home runs that many of us could only dream about hitting. Plus, most of those home runs either come close to going out of the stadium or carom off something fun.

When I talked to my buddy Todd tonight, he reminded me that next year’s All-Star Game will be held at Petco Park. That got me giddy thinking of what could happen during the Home Run Derby. The warehouse is just beckoning for it to be pelted.

Take a look at what the Long Haul Bombers did at Petco Park. Oh, boy!

Nothing more American than the Wimberley VFW Rodeo

Nearly one year has passed since I moved to Georgia and in that time, I began to reflect on what I covered while in Texas and how it shaped me during that time.

With the Fourth of July recently skipping by, I found it tough not to think back to the past five years when I spent that day — or weekend before then, depending on when it fell — covering the Wimberley Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW) Rodeo.

At first I balked at the assignment, just because it was the rodeo. Then I learned the first night of the rodeo featured a regional stop for the Professional Bull Riders and I had watched enough of that on TV over the years to pique my interest a bit more.

The best stories I found on those Friday nights belonged to the rodeo protection athletes — or clowns, as many like to call them. I wish I could locate my first feature from the Wimberley VFW Rodeo, because I loved it. Turns out those RPAs don’t get paid unless they work, so if they break a bone, tough luck — they get back out there. Tough way to live, for sure, but those guys love what they do and keep riders safe.

Mutton Bustin’ always made for a good laugh and an award-winning photo. That photo was by Gerald Castillo, but I honed my photo skills over the years (at top).

When it comes down to it, I have this to say about the Wimberley VFW Rodeo: Nothing — and I mean, nothing — is more American than covering, watching it.

Fireworks, patriotic music and rodeo: Can anything top that display of Murica?

I mean, you could strap George Washington to a bald eagle and have him wave the 50 stars and 13 stripes, but you’d just be getting greedy. Plus, that would be crazy.

Anyway, happy belated Fourth of July to you all and happy belated birthday, USA!

Traveling, Savannah and Family Time

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

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

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.

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