May 22: Full Circle

It was roughly three years ago. Myself and current (well, former) Towson Sports Weekly producer, Ryan Dooley, had a long talk. About the television station. About God. About girls. About beer. We had a long walk from a friend’s apartment after the annual WMJF post-gala party to hash out all of the things that weighed on our minds through the course of our freshman year. There were no life-altering epiphanies. No transcendent conclusions. Just a meaningful conversation among friends. But somehow, with three years left in the balance, Ryan knew the discussion didn’t end that night.

We just needed three years to finish it up.

Since April 22, when I first ventured onto the roof of the Media Center with PSmith, I have promised myself to return.  For the last couple weeks Ryan and I have made it a point to head up there in one of the waning nights of our college careers to reflect on our time at Towson. Tonight was that night.

After helping me shoot a stand-up (for the third time), which I used to finish up my resume tape this afternoon (barring my long-time professor and unofficial career adviser Jenny Atwater doesn’t find something else wrong with it, as she has each time I’ve shown it to her), we planned on meeting up later tonight to take to the roof and rehash the aforementioned topics, but with three more years, and a handful of experiences, under our belts. Well, just as shows shot at student television stations never seem to go off without a hitch (or two, three, four…), our plans were upended relatively quickly. When PSmith and myself went up a month ago, there was no lock on the hatch that leads to the roof. This time a metal padlock with the words ‘Towson State’ inscribed on it kept us from enjoying a couple Blue Moons at the campus’ apex. After surveying the exterior of the Media Center for a secondary route, and Ryan looking up YouTube videos on how to pick padlocks, we decided to move on.

Our route to Plan B took us past the recently planted Tiger statue outside of Stephens Hall (the bronze statue, which features two enormous and realistic Tiger testicles, replaced the paper mache statue that was outside of Cook Library until a few douche bags from the University of Delaware decided to vandalize it after we beat them in Lacrosse last season…typical UD). We ended up atop the Glen Garage, but there was a limited view of the campus. We headed to the Towsontown Garage, but there were surveillance cameras everywhere.

We drove into Towson, to a garage in the hub of the town. The top floor was locked, but we hung out there for a little while. You could basically see the entire campus, but we were both a bit uneasy by the endless rows of untouched, unmarked cop cars on the top few floors. It was like that scene from ‘I, Robot‘ with the factory full of those deadly robots that Will Smith’s character eventually cabbage-patched to death. Except they were cars. Actually, the only similarity between the scene and the garage was the fact that there were a bunch of white machines in one condensed area. I actually have no clue what happened in the movie, I never saw it. So, um, we left.

Our next spot was our last. We stood atop the Union Garage for a solid hour and a half. Because the of the security cameras we ditched the Blue Moons. Instead, much like our talk three years earlier, we tossed around a number of topics. Our role in the development of WMJF. Our promise to donate $100 or more each year to the station’s fund. And our futures in the television industry. Our past girlfriends. The impact they’ve had on us. And our outlook on those we’ll have in the future. Leaving college. How making such a smooth adjustment from high school to college has eased our worries about making the jump from college to career. Where we will end up in the next year. God. Church. Beer. The list goes on.

The plan went a bit awry. There would have been a greater sense of symbolism had we been able to meet up atop the building we collectively spent a prime amount of our college lives in. But that was secondary to the talk itself. It was evident each of us has grown in a number of ways through our years at Towson. We were prepared to take on the next three years of our lives during that late-Spring walk in 2004. And from the sounds of it, we’re ready for the same challenge once again.

Sidenote: I’m glad to see the Boston Celtics get what they played for this past NBA season: not a thing. Danny Ainge, Doc Rivers and company notoriously tanked this season. Paul Pierce sat with an injury, or whenever it was close in the 4th quarter, as Ainge was taking Kevin Durant’s mom out for dinner and miniature golf. It was a complete embarrassment. They assumed they would land a top-2 pick in tonight’s NBA Draft Lottery, and thus end up with Greg Oden or Kevin Durant. They ended up at No. 5. Glorious. Oh, and Portland and Seattle are going to be sick next year. Especially if Stern lets them transfer over to the Eastern Conference.

Go Cavs.

May 16: A Basketball Brotherhood

“I’ve got nothing to do today but smile.”

-Simon & Garfunkel

This was the day I’ve been looking forward to for a long, long time. For the first time in what seems like months, I was able to do absolutely nothing. No obligations. No plans. No responsibilities. No nothing.

It was good.

Because of classes, etc. my Mondays-Thursdays have been shot. Because of WMJF I have usually been up relatively early, and remained somewhat busy on Fridays. Because of Towson games, events, this, that, and the third, I generally keep busy on Saturdays. And because of The Towerlight my Sundays have been less than restful. But having finished classes, exams, and handed in my final projects of my college career Monday and Tuesday, I could finally spend a day doing nothing.

I woke up at 11:30. Made and ate pancakes. Zoned out for an hour or so. Realized I had incorrectly dated yesterday’s post, and changed it hoping no one noticed. Wandered back into bed for another two hours (during which I had a dream–or was it a nightmare?–that I watched Mel Gibson’s ‘Apocalypto’, which wasn’t nearly as cool as the dream I had last night where I was playing Madden 2008, which was amazing). Woke up again around 3:30. Headed to Burdick for the first time in a few weeks to play basketball. Came back to my apartment. Showered. Ate. And here I am.

Sleep and basketball are two things I plan on getting in a lot more of now that classes are done. With a heavy focus on the latter.

In my four years a fraternity of sorts has developed out of Burdick. And I’ve always considered myself a proud brother. The gym was my first social circle. I remember the dad of one of my friends from home saying the only people I’d need to meet at school were the guys that play basketball. He wasn’t exactly right. He also wasn’t very far off.

It was even the focus of one of my first Towerlight commentaries.

If it weren’t for a hectic schedule since I started this blog a few weeks ago, there’s no doubt Burdick would have been featured far earlier. Regardless, it would not have been the first time I made mention of my hoops haven in an internet blog.

Through a good portion of my freshman and sophomore years myself and a bunch of friends, mostly from high school, had Xanga sites as a means of keeping one another updated on our lives. Being that Burdick was a significant part of nearly every one of my afternoons, I had these words to say in a post from December 27, 2003:

From day one I noticed something about the crop of ballplayers at Burdick. They weren’t the purest of shooters. Nor were they the smoothest ball handlers. But they could run. They could jump. And they could bench press me fifty me times if they got the urge to do so. For the first month or so I heard the words “get into the weight room ’shorty’ ” more than I ever could have imagined…

I stopped shying away from the occasional verbal battle. Never have I gone so far as to say something that would get me bench pressed (or beaten mercilessly), but I’ve toed that line…

Burdick is a place where 5th year senior football players reign supreme. Most of which have used up their years of eligibility. That’s where the combination of brute strength and athleticism stems…Now that the football season is finished there are considerably more 4.5 40s running fast breaks, and weight room junkies patrolling the lane. More profanity spews forth, and more calls are disputed. One mid-November contest lasted over an hour. Every call led to an argument. And every argument led to ten minutes wasted. It is a miracle that blood wasn’t shed over that game…

One of the most beautiful characteristics of Burdick is the fact that you can go months without knowing anyone’s name, but still be able to call for an outlet pass and have the ball delivered to you for an easy deuce. See, at Burdick players don’t go by names. They go by letters and syllables. Such names include “E” (about 8 guys claim this Burdick alias) and “G.” As well as “Sco,” “Ant,” and “Zo” (who refers to himself as “Tha Horse”). Other nicknames include “Dirk” (pure shooting big man) and “Favre” (QB look-alike). As for myself, basically no one knew my name until December. Instead I was referred to as “Ridnour” or “Retro”, both of which are references to my hair. I had grown so accustom to this that it was slightly disappointed when people actually called me Darnay, it just wasn’t the same. It wasn’t Burdick.

A lot has changed since freshman year. The competition isn’t nearly as good. The number of guys that showed up each afternoon has significantly decreased. And there are nowhere near the personalities there once were. You could have just as good a time sitting on the sidelines, jumping from conversation to conversation, as you would playing. And a lot of times you had no choice but to do so. Through the majority of my freshman year, if you did not show up before 4:05 (the gym opened at 4) you would not get on until close to 5:30. Timing was everything. This was especially the case if you were an average-sized, rail-thin white kid. If you had not yet established a rep you would be forced to wait even longer to finally get on the floor.

Back then you had to be tough. Physically and mentally. People were going to talk. And they’d more likely do so after out-muscling you in one way or another. If you didn’t hold your own, walk with a swagger, and act like you belonged on the floor, you would hear about it. Not too long ago I was playing with one of the regulars from my first two years, Agee (nicknamed after the ‘Hoop Dreams‘ character), and I made some comment about how some of the younger kids there that day had bad attitudes. Without a moment’s hesititation he spit back, “That’s how you used to be.” Really? “Yeah, you had an awful attitude, always had to say something.” Yeah, but I had to right? “Yeah, you’re right.”

There was a right of passage at Burdick. It took you standing your ground. You had to be firm, but you had to do so without making enemies.

Since then things have died down a bit. Fewer good players. Fewer arguments. Fewer long waits on the sidelines. Within my first year I established myself as one of the regulars, and once you do that there seems to always be a roster spot waiting for you. I haven’t been a daily fixture there for a couple years now. But even if school or work keeps you from being a regular, no one forgets that you once were.

Since my freshman year I have been on five Intramural championship teams and have played in two regional tournaments. I won one of those titles and played in one of the tournaments with ‘Dirk,’ and even played in a men’s league with him, former Towerlight sports editor, Brent Kennedy, and a bunch of other guys this semester, just to have one last chance to run with those two guys who both graduated last spring.

And I’ve even been able to make a number of my contacts with Towson athletes at Burdick. One in particular being Gary Neal. I would go into length about that particular story, but instead I’ll link you to the ‘In This Corner‘ I wrote about ‘G’ a couple years ago.

So when I say that Burdick is a fraternity of sorts, I say it in all seriousness. You play basketball Thursday afternoons, then four hours later hang out with the same guys at the bar. It’s a beautiful thing.

I knew that I’d miss Burdick more than anything once Winter Break rolled along. And I wasn’t wrong. I miss those 7th year senior football players. I miss half the people still not knowing my name, or if I even have one for that matter. I miss picking verbal fights that, if turned physical, would end up with me filing an injury report.

Yeah. I’m going to miss Burdick.

May 12: Bittersweet

Another long day. Another short post. Just allow me to get through this weekend and I promise I’ll back to my usual form (again, got that Presidential post coming up…I’ll give you a hint–Taft’s term marked the end of an era).

Anyways, today was the official farewell to WMJF. Tonight we had our annual end of the year Gala, which featured blooper reels for each of the shows and senior packages (I believe there were 14, maybe 15 this year…way above average). I was fortunate enough to have one (thanks Tony Robinson–up front to the left with the silky cream suit coat on).

As part of the proceedings the annual General Manager’s awards were handed out. The GM being Doc MacKerron (up front, all the way to the left). Usually only one gets handed out. This year, with the huge class we had, there were six. Congrats to Chris Taydus, Ryan Dooley, Josh Eisenberg, Joe Achard, Diego Torres, and Tony Robinson.

And of course, thanks, maybe for the last time (on this blog, at least) to WMJF and all its members. If I try to put into words how much the station has meant to me through the years, I might not finishing posting until after 5 a.m. again (for the record t’s 3:10 a.m. right now).

Justin and Chris were still in Towson today. We hit the town again tonight. And they peace out tomorrow.

One last thing. It’s not really like me to make a big deal out of stuff like this. And I won’t get into the details. But I walked away tonight with a bit of a chip on my shoulder and some added motivation. Both of which should ultimately be a good thing.

It’s about time I find my next employer.

It’s how you deal with failure that determines how you achieve success.

-David Feherty

It’s not the situation, but whether we react (negative) or respond (positive) to the situation that’s important.

-Zig Ziglar

Promise yourself to be just as enthusiastic about the success of others as you are about your own.

-Christian Larson

May 11: On a Whim

Disclaimer: Today’s post (I use the term ‘today’ very loosely) is the latest (5:03 a.m.), and will be the shortest. These things are in many ways related. Enjoy

Today involved:

• Final Faceoff episode, and final official WMJF appearance
• Towerlight capsules
• Two Red Bulls
• Pasta Mista
• Impromptu visit from old buddy Justin Warren, and his boy Chris Dove
• The prom
• Federal Hill
• Young professionals
• Woodchuck
• Boli’s Pizza
• A phone call from Justin’s brother saying he met a friend of mine from Towson, the infamous Shyvonne Sanganoo at a bar in New York (both their stomping grounds)
• Avoiding a sobriety checkpoint on 83 (we were all sober…but not in the mood to sit in traffic for an hour and a half…the cop seemed to understand)
• Prom after party
• Matt Laumann being money
• Mini Pocket Bike

Sorry for the brief post. Again, it’s pretty late (sorry Mom). Rest assured, I have a sweet post planned on a particular physical quality of past and future U.S. Presidents.

Oh, and the picture was taken by Louis Jay of the Towerlight. We had the show projected on a huge screen in the studio. This is what we do when we’re bored and waiting for the show to get started. The line ‘You are so incapable of doing anything right’ stems from a running joke at the station my freshman year.

That’s all. Now might be a good time to catch a few hours of sleep.

May 6: Where Have I Been?

You know when you’ve lived somewhere for a little while, maybe a few years (say–four), and you think you know the area pretty well? Basically know where to go, where not to. Where the good restaurants, bars, stores, are. Where to go when you’re bored. Where to go when you want to relax. Where to go when you want a temporary escape. You’ve got the area down. Or at least you think you do.

And then you discover something new. Maybe not even discover, just experience. And it leaves you thinking, why have I never been here before?

I had one of those moments this weekend.

Every year, around late-April or early-May, Towson has its Towsontown Festival. I knew about it, but until this weekend I never paid it any mind. And for a variety of reasons. First being that it has conflicted with Tigerfest each of the last few years. Granted, Tigerfest generally sucks. But I was usually too depressed and exhausted after spending a few thoroughly disappointing hours at Tigerfest to venture “uptown” to the festival. Secondofly, whenever I drove by I saw a bunch of flower stands, senior citizens selling commemorative quilts, and garden decorations. Didn’t exactly pique my intrigue.

For whatever reason I decided to venture over on Saturday after Towson’s annual Black & Gold Spring Football Game. With Rusty in tow I headed over with J.D., PSmith, and Kiel Mclaughlin. It took me no more than 15 seconds to spend 20 dollars on food. And I didn’t regret a single cent. A pit beef sandwich, soft pretzel, funnel cake, and two lemonades later I was left wondering why I hadn’t ventured to the festival each of the last three years.

It was cool being a part of the crowd. Seeing the massive hunks of red meat on grills the size of Suburbans. Little kids playing with annoying toys. Parents taking annoying toys from their little kids. The kids crying. Old people giving dirty looks to both the kids and the parents. And a huge SPAM truck giving away free samples. What’s not to love?

Anyways, apparently the Towsontown Festival is one of the largest on the East Coast. And with no real Towerlight obligations anymore I decided to go back today. Unfortunately with a dwindling bank account balance I had to avoid the overpriced, yet equally outstanding food. Regardless, I’m glad I went.

Better late than never.