Joel Frey

Basketball for Breakfast

One of El Paso's lesser known oddities is that it is the only slice of Texas located in the Mountain Time Zone.  Generally, this factoid has no impact on how El Pasoans conduct their business, but now and then the rest of the country is reminded of this wrinkle. For instance, last Saturday the Conference USA championship game tipped off at 9:35 a.m. local time. The CBS commentators mentioned the early start several times and how it felt strange for a big game to be tipping off during the breakfast hour.

Heather and I woke up a few minutes before tip-off, brewed a pot of coffee and tuned in, pleasantly surprised to see a packed Don Haskins Center. During the early rounds of the tourney, I had tweeted several times about the plethora of empty seats. "Looks like crickets can be heard chirping," I said in one. But that wasn't the case on Saturday. More than 11,000 of the UTEP faithful had woken up early and were ready to rumble.

The game, pitting a senior-laden UTEP team versus an upstart Tiger squad, featured all of the elements of a classic. With an NCAA bid at stake, there was desperation hanging with every shot and constant shifts in momentum. Late in the second half, after a three-pointer put the Miners up by 12, I thought they had finally put away the young Tigers.

By then, I was on my way to play tennis, listening to the game on the radio. By the time I parked, the Miner lead had been whittled down to five. After checking in, I found a TV in the clubhouse. A Tiger three pointer had just tied the game. My thoughts shifted. "What a heartbreaker this would be for the Miners," I said to myself.

Down one with time winding down, Tiger guard Joe Jackson drew a foul in the lane and sunk two free throws. With 7.8 seconds left, Memphis had its first lead of the day, 67-66. The Miner fans who had gathered around the set looked anxious. A minute later after the potential game-winning shot came up short, their anxiety was replaced with dejection. The Tigers were on their way to the Big Dance and the Miners would most likely have to settle for an NIT bid.

And that's how it played out. The Tigers get Arizona later this week, while tonight the Miners battled New Mexico at the Pit in Albuquerque in the first round of the consolation bracket. Unfortunately, they lost and the team's season is officially over. But I think everyone in El Paso who had basketball for breakfast on Saturday knows deep down when it really drew to a close.

 

Hotdish, Potluck, Smorgasbord

We're having potluck for today's 300 words. I hope it fills you up!

• Heather and I are slightly dumbfounded that Megan, whose great-grandparents have called the state of Wisconsin home for almost 90 years, rooted for the Steelers. It was almost as perplexing as when she painted a horseshoe on her cheek last year while we sported the fleur-de-lis during Super Bowl 44.
• Last year, we started a new Super Bowl tradition: jambalaya during halftime. Heather made a scrumptious batch on Sunday and I appreciated having a taste of the Crescent City during the game even if the Saints didn't make it back to the promised land.
• As a lifelong Star Wars fan, the VW commercial featuring a mini-Darth Vader futilely attempting to harness the Force cracked me up. On Facebook I wrote that it was "amazing that Star Wars is still relevant 30+ years after its debut," to which my friend and fellow Star Wars buff Shea replied, "Much like us."
• El Paso hasn't quite fully recovered from last week's plunge into the deep freeze.  Schools just reopened yesterday and the city finally confirmed this afternoon that it was okay to drink the water sans boiling.  Unbelievably, some homes and businesses are still without water.
• We submitted Meg's FAFSA application last night. For those of you unfamiliar with college application process that stands for "Free Application for Federal Student Aid." As I was writing this I asked Meg to recite the acronym and she rattled it off. A few seconds later she then passed the "What is your social security number?" quiz.

Like most Lutherans, I'm an ambassador of potlucks involving pots. We're having one at Trinity (3800 Hondo Pass) on Sunday. If you're on the Northeast side of town, stop by around 11:30 and fill up a plate. And should your soul need refreshing, the service starts at 10:15.

1/28/86

Where were you on January 28, 1986? I was a sixth grader attending A.A. Songy Middle School in Luling, La. Shortly after lunch, I was sitting in a portable classroom getting ready for a French lesson when our teacher told us about the Space Shuttle Challenger exploding. As was the case for millions of Americans that day, time froze for a minute or two. Once the harrowing fact she shared sunk in a few of us wondered out loud, "Wasn't the teacher on board?" Eventually, a TV was rolled into the library and we saw the tragedy unfold for the first time before boarding the yellow bus home.

Later that evening, my mom, dad, sister and I gathered in our living room on Bernice Drive and sought reassurance from President Reagan. We watched the countless replays of the disaster over and over and over again. Twenty-five years later, those images - the fireball, the solid rocket boosters flailing away, the horrified crowd in the bleachers below - still resonate, along with the fateful quote "obviously, we have a major malfunction." At some point, way past our regular 9:00 p.m. bedtime, Dad turned the TV off and my sister and I headed upstairs and got ready for bed, knowing that we'd never forget this day.

The next morning, my classmates and I huddled around our science teacher, Mrs. Walker. The floor was open and our inquisitive eleven-year-old minds were fully in motion. "Would the Space Shuttle ever launch again?" "Did the astronauts die right away?" "Will they let another teacher go into space?" were a sampling of the questions that crossed our lips. Mrs. Walker didn't have many concrete answers, but it was reassuring to have her guide us through such a seminal moment.

Those are my Challenger memories. What are yours?

 

 

Defenseless in Seattle

Late yesterday afternoon when Drew Brees lined the Saints offense up deep in their own territory with about five minutes to play, down by four, my mind flashed back to the Atlanta game on 12/27. The circumstances were similar and, as I contemplated the pending outcome, I thought the Saints would squeeze out a close three-point win as they did against the Falcons. "Finish strong," I muttered as thousands of fans expressed the same sentiment on Twitter.

Though the Seahawks defense had stymied the Saints  after they had grabbed two early ten-point leads, Brees and Co. had regained their stride in the fourth quarter. The crowd was anxious. The annoying commentators giddily speculated that the first NFL team to win their division with a losing record could fold under the pressure being applied by the reigning Super Bowl Champs.

But unlike that Monday night in the Georgia Dome, Brees and his teammates were not up to the task. After a listless drive, the Saints punted and with only one timeout remaining, I knew that it wasn't Who Dat Nation's day. Marshawn Lynch's stupifying 67-yard TD run a few minutes later only solidified the notion and was an embarrassing capper to the worst defensive showing the Saints displayed in a long time.  As a I noted in one of my mid-game tweets, it was so bad that Sports Illustrated football writer Peter King was mocking Saints defensive coordinator Gregg Williams during the game.

I'm sure it was a painful flight home last night.  I wonder if any fans showed up at 2:00 a.m. to greet them at the airport. My only guess is not as many as when they returned from Miami last February after beating the Colts.  That's one difference between winning the Super Bowl and losing in the Wild Card round.

For Saints Fan Everywhere

A week before the Saints began their Super Bowl run, we were in Tucson celebrating Megan's Sweet 16. During the weekend, we visited the Tucson Mall, which, to Meg's delight, houses a super-sized Forever 21. While the ladies checked out the teen fashions, I killed time at a sporting goods store, where a simple gray t-shirt, sporting a large fleur de lis across the chest caught my eye. I showed it to Heather and she urged me to bring it home to El Paso, which I did.

Part of the reason why I bought the shirt had to do with the excitement I felt about the upcoming NFL season. I liked the Saints' chances even though they finished 7-9 and 8-8 in 2007 and 2008, respectively. The previous year had been oh-so-close with the team losing six games by five points or less. They would show flashes of brilliance one week, pummeling the Green Bay Packers 51-29 on Monday Night Football, only to follow it up the next with a gut-wrenching three-point loss to the Tampa Bay Bucs. Despite most of the experts predicting that the Saints would remain inconsistent this year, I knew that with Drew Brees at quarterback the offense was set and, hopefully, the breaks that went against them in 2008 would take different turns in 2009.

The first one occurred when the schedule was announced. It was far kinder. For starters, the Saints would not have to travel to London in the middle of the season to play a "home" game as they did in 2008. Not only did the trans-Atlantic sojourn cost the citizens of New Orleans a chance to scream "Who Dat?" for an afternoon, it helped create a six week-long gap between contests at the Superdome. In the end, I doubt this prevented the Saints from making a run deep into the play-offs, but it certainly did not help.

Perhaps the NFL thought about that when they scheduled the Saints to kick-off the 2009 campaign at home against the Detroit Lions, who in 2008 became the first team in NFL history to go 0-16. The Saints took advantage and won the game 45-27. And though they endured one stretch where they played four out of five games away from the Superdome, they were against the St. Louis Rams, the Bucs, the Washington Redskins, and the Atlanta Falcons, none of whom made the post-season. The Saints beat each of those teams on their way to a 13-0 start.

Granted, a few of those victories were not without anxious moments. The Redskins, for example, missed a chip shot field goal that would have put them up by 10 points late in the game. Following the choke, Drew Brees promptly hit Robert Meachem on a 53-yard pass to tie the game, which the Saints went on to win in overtime. In 2008, I doubt they would have pulled one like that out.

As the season progressed, I wore the shirt purchased in Tucson just about every Sunday. But heading into the play-offs - amidst a three-game losing streak - I changed my routine. The shirt remained in my closet on January 16 during the divisional round win versus the Arizona Cardinals. A week later for the NFC Championship Game, I decided not to wear it myself, instead asking Heather to don it. She cheerfully complied and was a pillar of encouragement for me during the swings of that heart thumping win against the Vikings. Afterward, we decided she needed her own shirt for the Super Bowl.

Last night, I returned to the Tucson tee and hung a string of mini-football beads caught at Mardi Gras around my neck. Heather made a batch of jambalaya and we had a few friends from our church over, all of whom were warned by my lovely wife that they would likely see a side of Mr. Frey that they had never seen before. And though I yelled and pumped my fist throughout, I wasn't as edgy as I had been two weeks prior. Even after the Colts went up 10-0 in the first quarter, I didn't panic. "Manning is going to get his," I explained to my sister via text message. "We just have to keep stepping up."

Amazingly, the Saints did so in a way I doubt longtime members of the Who Dat Nation thought possible. The onside kick to start the second half is already legendary, but that was only one of many plays that led to the Saints outscoring the Colts 25-7 in quarters three and four. Admittedly, even with a 14 point lead, I had flashbacks to a couple of the losses snagged from the clutches of victory that I had witnessed in my 30 years of Saints fandom. I figured we would at least have to endure one more Colts touchdown followed by an onside kick attempt. But then the Saints 'D' stymied Peyton at the goal line and all of those negative vibes I had been harboring in the last three minutes of the game evaporated. The Saints were Super Bowl Champions. Heather never doubted it for a minute.