![]() ![]() So write about it I did, on a newer, slightly less-ugly blog that a few people read. That was the first moment where I thought, “Maybe I should just write about this instead.” The sound that came when he arrived was like a no-doubter fresh off the bat in Omaha. ![]() nice, I guess? I remember standing on the sideline and watching Auburn transfer Courtney Denson scramble toward me, unaware that Terrence Royal was coming unblocked from the back side at full speed. They didn’t have eyes for me, but they let me hang around spring practice like a lost puppy, which was. The sports editor even let me tag along for Bucs preseason games, running post-game quotes up from the locker room to the beat writers and columnists in the press box so they could make deadline.Īnother reason for the delay of higher education? I only had eyes for one football program: USF, my dad’s alma mater. I soaked up every morsel of knowledge, every tidbit of expertise, every tip and trick I could from anyone who would give the random 18-year-old answering phones up front a spare few minutes. This was back when newsrooms were full of incredible reporters on any and every beat imaginable, instead of the skeleton crews they’re forced to work with these days. My friend at the Tribune landed me a full-time desk job in the newsroom right after I graduated high school, so I put off college for a semester. ![]() A high-schooler sitting in a real newsroom, working the draft in real time. So, they let me come in on draft weekend and type in all the picks for every round that would run on the agate page. It didn’t take long for my friend and his colleagues to realize what I really wanted to do: Cover the NFL draft. A few months later, in the first regular-season game in their history, I threw for three touchdowns and ran for another, and we beat them 30-6. Heading into my senior year, they let me write a preview on a local school that was about to start their first-ever season in football. My friend got me in the door at the Trib not long after, just stringing high school games at first. He had a room in his house where he kept the countless amount of sports media guides he’d amassed over his years in the business, and in return for cutting his grass, he would let me take home as many as I could carry. I had a longtime family friend who worked in the Sports department at The Tampa Tribune (where my grandfather worked the Linotype machine for 30 years). I would sit in the museum’s volunteer break room, shushing anyone who dared come in to eat their PB&J because I was on a conference call with Peyton Manning or Jerry Rice or Derrick Brooks or Steve McNair or Donovan McNabb. That gave me access to the league’s weekly conference calls with some of the league’s star players. Most days, I would hunker down in the small public library annex inside the museum, and write stories for the ugliest football blog nobody ever read.Įventually, I started sticking my nose into places it didn’t belong in the football media world, and if nobody noticed or told me to leave, I stayed.įirst, it was access to the media section of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers’ website. Other days, I would climb to the top of MOSI’s IMAX Dome Theatre and work on some math problems. There is also a "freeform" option that allows the user to "play" with all the objects with no set goal or to also build their own puzzles with goals for other players to attempt to solve.Some days, I’d grab a basketball out of our summer science camp closet and walk over to a rickety court at the school next door. The levels usually have some fixed objects that cannot be moved by the player, and so the only way to solve the puzzle is carefully arrange the given objects around the fixed items. Available objects ranged from simple ropes and pulleys to electrical generators, bowling balls, and even cats and mice. The general objective of the games is to create a series of Rube Goldberg devices: arrange a given collection of objects in a needlessly complex fashion so as to perform some simple task (for example, "put the ball into a box" or "light a candle"). ![]() All versions were published by Sierra Entertainment. The Incredible Machine (aka TIM) is a series of computer games that were originally designed and coded by Kevin Ryan and produced by Jeff Tunnell, the now-defunct Jeff Tunnell Productions, and published by Dynamix the 1993 through 1995 versions had the same development team, but the later 2000–2001 titles had different designers. ![]()
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