Sidelines
Memories abound
after Year 2TWO years. Amazing. It's two years now in the best job I've ever had, two years since I walked, brand new, into the sparkling Restaurant Row offices of the Star-Bulletin, heard fellow rookie Rod Antone's cell phone jingle out the "Spider Man" theme song and thought, "This is going to be fun."
And oh, how it is.
Even if it's no longer new, now. And the surprises are fewer, smaller. The second year has been different than the first. There was no Kobe, this time, no Kareem.
No Ashley Lelie miracles, and Savo is gone and far away, his Yugoslavian Yogi-isms and manic basketball magic but a memory.
This year there were more issues than miracles.
More news stories than great games.
A secretive search for an athletic director. Pay-per-view. Pinkie-gate.
Mike Bass getting kicked, Chris Brown running around with the wrong helmet raised to the sky. Two schools throwing punches, pointing fingers.
The summer of Fieldturf.
Those things aren't as much fun to write about.
But wait. There were plenty of great moments. There always are, when your job is to celebrate sports.
Like the kid in purple Rodney Dangerfield pants, making us all hold our breath with every shot.
A mild-mannered university chancellor, moving in with a college football team.
The BYU fans who wrote in to explain their definitions of a football rivalry. My favorite: "P.S. -- This e-mail is an example of why Hawaii isn't our RIVAL. I would never say anything this nice to a University of Utah sportswriter."
Kim Willoughby, after a rare loss, the competitive intensity bursting out of her in sparks.
Castle taking us all on a wild thrill ride, somehow scoring, winning, filling football games with highlights that shouldn't have happened, but did.
Riley Wallace, walking out in that "Fat Bastard" suit.
Aloha Stadium, shaking in the night. The Stan Sheriff Center, exploding in sound.
The reunion of the Chaminade squad that shocked the world. Watching those guys seeing each other for the first time in almost 20 years, hugging, teammates again. Ralph Sampson, an arm around everyone. Merv Lopes, the arched eyebrows above those shades, the sly smile of a man who's already done the impossible.
Watching a 100-year-old man run, run with his hair behind him in the wind, the whole place smiling as the raindrops fell.
The wonder in the voices of the high school kids who stayed in the same hotel as Hawaii the weekend of the men's volleyball final four, who celebrated a national championship with their heroes.
Thousands of crimson-clad Alabama fans, giddily chanting again and again, "Roll, Tide, roll!"
Hearing a guy tell the story of how he went from driving a beer truck to playing in the Pro Bowl.
Hanging out with Rick Majerus, my role model, America's perfect man.
Yes, another year of columns. It passed in a flash. Time flies when you're having fun.
Kalani Simpson can be reached at ksimpson@starbulletin.com