Up In The Valley

Every once in a while, I still need to scratch that sports media itch. When the Dallas Cowboys shook up the 2012 NFL Draft by trading up to draft Shreveport's Morris Claiborne, a defensive back from LSU, it felt like I needed a soothing balm. This set of circumstances combined so many elements which get my motor running: home town guy made good, The Cowboys, LSU, and a bunch of people thrilled at the news. So, presented with an opportunity to be a part of the media reception for Claiborne at Valley Ranch the day after the draft, I just had to jump.

I've been down the sports road many times, so I don't get excited very often. The opportunity to spend a day at the Cowboys' sprawling headquarters in Irving, though, got my heart rate up a little. Claiborne brought his family along. His parents were there, so was his grandmother, a couple of his young children, his girlfriend and others. His mother apparently is a New Orleans Saints fan, but as Shreveport people almost everybody else there declared themselves long-time Dallas diehards. You could see the thrill on their faces.

You could tell that Claiborne was happy about all this, too...especially since the Cowboys had not contacted him at any point during the evaluation process and this news came to him like a bolt from the blue. (A blue star on a silver helmet, as it turns out.) As the day wore on, I had an opportunity to walk down a hallway and speak for a time with the Cowboys' defensive coordinator, Rob Ryan. I spoke with head coach Jason Garrett in a group setting, and along the way I dished off a quip that made Living Cowboys Legend Calvin Hill laugh. It was a good day.

I was helping my friend The Local Sportcaster. All of this came up so suddenly, he had made no plans to travel to Dallas on Friday. But, hey, that's the news business. In its modern form, there's simply not a pool of TV cameramen hanging around the TV station waiting to dash out of town for a day. As an experienced hand, I was able to earn my way by shooting interviews and stand-ups for him.

I also snapped photos with the iPhone as we went along and enthusiastically posted to Twitter and Facebook. That included a photo of Claiborne holding his new helmet while standing by his locker.

There was an impressive media throng there to acquaint themselves with the Cowboys' budding defensive star, and it was hard to stay out of their way. So, it should not have come as a surprise that our mugs wound up on a DFW TV newscast...just scratching that itch.

And what do you know, I finally got on TV in Big D!

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True Believers Rewarded. Saints Win!

(Miami) – For all the Saints who on this earth do dwell, there is unbridled joy. Nothing this side of The Rapture itself could elicit such euphoria. The New Orleans Saints are Super Bowl champions.
The team, in existence since 1967, rewarded its long-suffering fans with redemption and reward. Grown men wept with joy following the Saints’ tremendous come-from-behind 31-17 victory over the Indianapolis Colts.
What a transcendent event for New Orleans. Less than five years ago, the city itself was left for dead following Hurricane Katrina’s devastating landfall and the resulting floods. Now, instead of rancid water clogging the city’s consciousness, there is the freshness of life anew. The Saints are champions and they are carrying a region on their shoulders.
Cornerback Tracy Porter, who sealed the victory with a 74-yard 4th quarter interception for a touchdown, was reduced to understatement, saying simply “Words can’t describe what this means for New Orleans. I am a Louisiana native, and this is real big.”
Louisiana football fans have kept the faith for more than forty years, wandering in an emotional wasteland, hoping for someone to lead them to this Promised Land. Head Coach Sean Payton and quarterback Drew Brees were up to the challenge, never losing faith in their abilities or the determination of those who supported them along the way.
Since September, Saints’ faithful have discussed “destiny” in a way only true believers can. If any fan base ever deserved a championship, it’s this one. Louisiana, so often derided for corruption in politics and socioeconomic shortcomings, is the home of the best football team in America, the Super Bowl Champions.
Professions of faith are coming from unlikely sources, like Saints tight end Jeremy Shockey, who said he had been praying “all day and all night” for this outcome.
The true impact of all this will not be realized for some time, but Louisianans have to believe. The Saints, an enduring symbol of futility for more than four decades, have emerged from the muck of mediocrity. Louisiana can do more than persevere, it can excel. If the Saints can do it, anyone can. Yes, a football team can inspire greatness, particularly this one. So much of New Orleans’ identity has been tied to the Saints: The “Who Dat?” cheer emerged from the unique accent that makes so many Crescent City natives instantly identifiable. During those losing seasons, all those losing seasons, fans mockingly hid their identities by covering their heads with paper bags. A city that is famous for its ability to host a party while turning a blind eye to rampant debauchery, in the view of some, was appropriately represented by a perennial loser.
Now, deliverance is at hand. The Saints are redefined. The jubilation in the streets, businesses and homes all across the region is just beginning to resonate. Faith, belief, joy; Success, happiness, hope: all ideals modeled for us by saints throughout history. Finally, maybe the football team in New Orleans is appropriately named.
Now, resplendent in victory, the Saints rightfully claim a title, one that our state hasn’t earned until now: Champions.
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Photo credits: US Presswire/Jeff Hanisch,Getty Images/Jed Jacobsohn, Associated Press/ Chuck Burton and Mark J. Terrell, and of course, Darrell Rebouche:

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Saints Alive! It's Super Bowl Sunday!

(Ft. Lauderdale, FL) - You couldn't ask for a better day. Even if the events planned for later this afternoon didn't have the potential to be life-changing for people who love the New Orleans Saints, the morning would still be spectacular. Sunrise over the Atlantic, waves, sand, an ocean breeze: Sunday morning at its February finest. There is a pause in the party as fans begin to realize that the game is upon us. For the football teams, a championship hangs in the balance. For the people of New Orleans, there is a shot at redemption, recovery and deliverance. Having spent time in close quarters with them, I can assure you that is not an overstatement.
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My day started early, filling souvenir orders from family. The women back home had specific demands. I hope I didn't let them down.
Then, breakfast by the ocean again with Frequent Traveling Companion. Interestingly, we are not on this trip together. Our hotels are less than a half-mile apart, though, so it's easy to hang out.
This is my first visit to South Florida, and I can tell you it is not oversold. The photos, the stories, the scenery you hear about, it's all here. Now, if the game delivers that will put a nice ribbon around what has already been a tremendous weekend.

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Black and Gold Thunder

(Miami Beach) - Bourbon Street has come to South Beach. New Orleans Saints fans have taken over. On this, the night before their beloved team's first-ever Super Bowl, they joyfully squeezed Indianapolis Colts fans off of Ocean Drive with their sheer numbers and unbridled enthusiasm. The Colts are favored to win the game, but they aren't in the same league with the party. There's enough rock and hip-hop to give Miami Beach a thunderous thump-thump on a regular Saturday night, but with Saints fans in charge you can add drums, horns and spontaneous parades...
When you think Bourbon Street, certain things come to mind. For instance, people elbow to elbow in the street, partying with purpose. Check: You also think of massive alcohol consumption. Check.
Oh, and women wearing alarmingly little clothing. Um, check:
Bourbon Street has been known to feature a little burlesque along the way. Check: I felt it was vital to document this rampant debauchery so that we may properly disapprove of it. Clearly, French Quarter sensibilities have stormed this beach with a blitzkrieg of Who Dat Juju.
What reminds us that we are not, in fact, in New Orleans is the beach itself. Having just one full day here before the Super Bowl, making my way to the sand and surf was a priority. It was late in the afternoon when I arrived with the traveling party and most of the beautiful people had moved inland to brace for the storm of Saints faithful. This actually worked to our advantage because we were able to hang out for a while without getting in anyone's way or working up a sweat.
The parties will pause tomorrow because this particular Sunday is about the business of football. That's what worries me for Saints fans. The Colts and their followers have been businesslike in their approach to all this. Meantime, for the fleur-de-lis folks, it's all about the festivities. Having spent a couple of days embedded with them, I'm really pulling for their team to win. It would simply mean so much to them. If they do indeed become Super Bowl champs, in terms of a party, we ain't seen nothin' yet. Who Dat?

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Misty Water Colored Memories

Out of the blue, an old friend and co-worker posted a couple of photos on his Facebook page. They came from the mid-1980's when Daddy D was not a Daddy and wasn't even married, had much more hair, much less waistline and was having a whole lot of fun being a local TV sportscaster.I have spent most of the evening staring at the companion photo, which apparently was snapped just moments before a newscast. I can discern that because we are all standing and appear to have a purpose. This leads me to believe we were about to walk into the studio to sit on the set for the opening shot.There are so many memories in that one frame, it's almost unimaginable. It pleases me to say that after all these years most of them are warm and fuzzy. Sadly, our news director (standing, with his coat off), has passed away.
Our work environment wasn't the most pleasing to the eye, but we hung in there and spent five nights a week together. The anchors in the photo, Dale Hoffman and Sherri Talley, are still anchoring. He's in another Louisiana market and she's a mainstay at another station in town. She's such a fixture there, in fact, that most people have completely forgotten she worked at KTAL. Here's proof.
I was so fascinated by this that I took the time to annotate the photo. You may have to click on it to appreciate it. Enjoy the 80's.

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Daddy D in the News

Howdy from the press box
Originally uploaded by Darrell

Having spent the majority of my adult life compelling people to speak for publication or broadcast, seeing myself quoted in newspapers has kind of an inside-out feeling to it. My mission was to raise awareness of the Independence Bowl in certain circles. So, with a nod to our departing president, "Mission Accomplished!" I was quoted as a representative of the game on the front page of the Nashville newspaper on Sunday and spoke of the bowl game in another story which was distributed by the Associated Press and Gannett News Service.
Our bowl game has been around for more than three decades and we're proud of it. The Traveling Companion and I rubbed elbows with representatives of games in much larger cities, most of them from NFL markets. One of the strengths of our event is that it's the only game in town, so visitors get a lot of attention from hosts, locals and the media.
We still don't know which teams will play in our game. We've had Alabama each of the last two years, and they're currently #1 in the nation. Eight Southeastern Conference teams have come to town, as well as many from the Big XII. We've even had Notre Dame. We've also has UTEP, Southern Miss and Miami of Ohio and all are welcome despite the disparity in national notoriety.
This was my first time to be a front man for the bowl and I was proud to do it. I just hope I didn't embarrass the bowl game or the city. I don't know how my superiors in the organization will measure my performance, but getting the name out there in the media means something. Now, we just need to get a couple of nice teams to come to down just after Christmas.

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Giving with Gab

Golf Emcee
Originally uploaded by Darrell

The Best Friend maintained for a long time that it's only fitting that I made a living by running my mouth. I got in SO MUCH TROUBLE as a kid because I couldn't shut up. Some things never change, I guess.
Recently, I've had the opportunity to donate my services as a host for a variety of events. I'm ambivalent about this because I know people who make money as emcees-for-hire and I fear I'm taking money out of their pockets. Of course, if these event organizers were willing to pay for a host they probably would have hired someone better than me from the start, so I guess it's all moot.
Most recently, I handed out door prizes at a golf tournment benefitting the Alma Mater. It made me happy to contribute my meager talents to the school and they seemed grateful. Plus, I got two steak dinners and a golf umbrella in exchange for my half-hour of service. I think I came out ahead on that deal.

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Gosh, I'm Glad They Noticed

I was on the local TV for a long, long time. In 2004 and 2005, I toiled mostly in a management role, but occasionally anchored a newscast. For 25 years before that, I was a sportscaster. I have not anchored a local TV sportscast since September of 2003. Three things have happened in the last couple of weeks that either affirm my impact or illustrate how superfluous I really was.
I have been invited to speak to a local civic group. I wasn't sure what topic they were thinking about, so I asked. The program chairman wants me to talk about basketball, but said I can choose any topic. I have acccepted the engagement, and I'll probably talk about mid-life career change. It can happen. The man who invited me obviously thinks I'm still a full-time sports person. If they want to hear about sports, I guess I can talk about Arena Football.
Twice in the past week, I have run into guys who were once high-profile local athletes. Each greeted me warmly. The first one said, "I still enjoy watching you." The other said, "You don't see me much anymore, but I see you all the time."
Really? Are they stalking me? I appreciate their attempts at being nice. They always have been nice guys. It's nice to know nothing has changed.
Last week at The Church, a lady congratulated me on the hire of a new anchor at the TV station. It was awkward, because for thirty seconds or so I had no idea what she was talking about.
With these strange but true stories in mind, I thought I'd share something I recently ran across, a billboard circa 1987: Two people on this board are still in local TV, at different stations. Another is on the radio every morning. The other is anchoring in another city. The meteorologist, on the far right above the word "watch," was out of television for a couple of years before emerging on the other station.
That photo was made a long time ago. I hope everybody's happy.
We all looked happy, back there in the 80's. I had hair and cheekbones. I wonder where they went.

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On the TV Again in a Weird Way

Darrell on the TV
Originally uploaded by Spokesmodel

Somehow, I was tabbed to be the spokesmodel for my organization at a weekend event. Much to my surprise, two local TV stations actually interviewed me.
It was a strange feeling to have the tables turned. Certainly, I stuck a microphone in countless faces countless times. I felt almost like a politician, responding to the question while getting my "pitch" in.
The good news is, it seems like the health system was presented in a positive light and the front man didn't do anything to mess that up.
This has happened just once before, when I was interviewed in the context of being radio boy for the local Arena Football team. In that case, the subject matter was second nature and there was no real pressure. This time, the interview involved terms like "arthroscopy" and "miniscus" instead of "touchdown" and "field goal."
The best part was that I've been gone from the local TeeVee for so long (or there has been so much turnover at the local stations) that neither of the interviewers had any idea I have a TV news background. They patiently explained how to stand and where to look. I was happy to oblige.
Hold onto your videoarthroscope.

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The Long Way Home

(Destrehan, LA)- The high school football playoffs have brought me to this New Orleans suburb for another TV assignment. It's strange, because I seem to do more sportscasting than I was doing when I was working full time as a sportscaster. I had the opportunity to watch the top-ranked team in the state, the Destrehan Wildcats. Two of their offensive stars have commited to play college football at LSU, so maybe we have seen the Tigers' future. Destrehan won easily, 42-14.
Getting here was an adventure. The main east-west thoroughfare in south Louisiana, Interstate 10, is closed between Lafayette and Baton Rouge because of a gas well explosion.It will, in fact, be shut down all weekend, we are told by the state police. So, I drove through parts of the state I have not previously visited. The good news is, I got nice food on this trip...south Louisiana stuff: excellent gumbo and jambalaya. I refused to stop at a chain burger joint. Nice payoff.
The bad news is, I have to take the same circuitous route home. I was orginally planning to attend the LSU-Ole Miss game on Saturday, but I'm aching to get back to the house. I'll watch it on TV and hope it's not much of a game so I won't regret my decision.

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Daddy D on the TeeVee

(New Orleans)- So, I'm back in New Orleans. Somehow it worked out that I got to be the play-by-play man for a couple of games on Cox Sports Television this season. It's an honor to be asked and my goals were simple: Don't embarrass the network, the schools or myself. Mission accomplished, I think. This was a strange experience. The game I was assigned earlier this season was at home, so I knew the coaches and the programs. Tonight's game involved two New Orleans Catholic schools. Walking through the stands of a high school stadium and realizing I didn't know a soul was sort of surreal. It was largely a solitary experience, even though I was surrounded by people. The good news is I had a chance to concentrate on preparation. After all, this isn't something I do every day. The executive producer was hanging around the press box for most of the first half, which really was kind of nice. I hope he was evaluating the product. Afterward, everyone was kind of exhausted after a late broadcast. So, I went to the hotel all alone. It's actually kind of peaceful. I've really come to enjoy traveling alone, if it's only for a day or two.The crew treated me with respect. My partner in the booth has been kind to me in our encounters over the years, and the sideline reporter was lovely.So, thank you Ronnie Rantz and Brooke Erickson. I hope we get to do it again some time soon.

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