Jeff Agase
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For my money, there isn’t a better way to waste four hours
of summer than Pac-10 Football Media Day.
Now I realize I don’t have much money to begin with, and I
hold this view largely because I am a sports junkie/media
hound/loser. But don’t discredit the idea from the start.
There was a free T-shirt involved. If that isn’t enough
reason to go anywhere, well then I’m on an island on this
one.
Anyway, Media Day is the chance for a bunch of sportswriters to
pay $10 for parking, accumulate 3-pound media guides and hear from
all of the Pac-10 coaches.
By all accounts (actually, just mine), it’s a great way to
compile quotes that might come in handy when coaches aren’t
interested in talking to the media anymore.
Plus, there’s the free T-shirt. Or so I thought.
Once I signed in, I panicked upon seeing what the nice girl
behind the desk was holding.
Hats. Dude. I’m not kidding. Hats.
And not even Pac-10 hats. For deity’s sake, they were
FIESTA BOWL hats.
You know, the place where they’re playing the national
championship game. You know, the place where two teams from Florida
will probably play each other Jan. 3.
Ridiculous.
As the day’s festivities began, Pac-10 commissioner Tom
Hansen informed us that he is happy to have the Insight.com Bowl
newly slated for the No. 4 team in the conference.
Hearing this was a lot like passing Go and landing on Income Tax
on the same roll.
Hansen said a few other things and stepped away. Everyone kind
of paused to see if anyone else would applaud.
It was one of those uncomfortable moments, like when
you’re trying to decide whether or not to walk out on a
lecture when your professor is 10 minutes late.
Nobody did. So we moved on, with a coach and player from a
Pac-10 school offering some words and fielding some questions.
The whole ordeal was part used car sales pitch, part Clinton
testimony.
Most of the coaches are trying to coax everyone into believing
they’ll either stay on top or get back on top, while at the
same time putting out any possible fires that might arise from us
Evil Media People.
So coaches sat there and said things like, “I really like
our chances,” and, “the important thing is to take one
game at a time.”
It was cliché heaven, folks.
Now from here on out, I’m mostly going to ramble on about
stupid things like the giant inflatable Pac-10 football that would
have looked really nice in my apartment, so if you want the hard
details from Media Day, here they are:
“¢bull; Washington State was picked by the media as the favorite
to win the conference for the first time in the history of the
poll.
“¢bull; UCLA was picked 6th.
“¢bull; Bob Toledo said the reason he hasn’t announced a
starting quarterback is because he wants to teach senior Cory Paus
a lesson. Toledo’s language did indicate that Paus will
start, though.
“¢bull; Toledo’s jacket looked like it was stolen from Bob
Barker’s closet.
The best part of the whole day for me was trying to hold myself
back from starting conversations with people.
See, if I began chatting it up, telling someone how I really
respect him and maybe even (deity forbid) asking some insightful
questions, I just knew that I’d blurt out some impulse
question that would probably greatly piss off whoever I was
asking.
So when I heard that Warren Moon was in the building, I tried my
best to overcome the unprofessional but overwhelming desire to
shake his hand, mostly because I could imagine I’d say
something stupid like:
Me: “Mr. Moon, you’re obviously one of the most
accomplished quarterbacks in NFL history, and a Pac-10 alumnus. So
how exactly did you lose to the Bills in that 1992 playoff game
when you and the Oilers were up 35-3?”
Warren Moon: (silence”¦walking away”¦calling for
security)
I’m not malicious. I swear. I’d just really like to
hear directly from these guys what it was like.
For a good three hours, I couldn’t find Warren Moon
anyway, so I was no threat.
I was enjoying the last couple of bites of a fantastic free
dessert when it happened. At 12:51 p.m. on July 31, 2002, it
happened.
I saw Warren Moon. Warren Moon! There he was, practically asking
me to approach him and strike up a conversation. I resolved to do
just that ““ maybe ask if he thought Ernest Givins was better
than Haywood Jeffries ““ but after I polished off my dessert,
he was gone.
Warren Moon was gone. And I had no t-shirt.
So I think I’m going to print one out for myself. It only
seems proper.
I can picture it already: “I Went to Pac-10 Media Day and
I Didn’t Even Get This Lousy T-Shirt.”