Friday, November 26, 2021

Cecil Hurt

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In the summer before the 2020 college football season, I decided to stop publishing The Commissioners Blog. Y'all will remember what life was like then. It seemed as if the country was coming apart, whether there would be a college football season was an open question. And social media was one of the many dumpster fires blazing away every day. I decided not to swim in that pool any longer...... gosh, I hope mixing my metaphors didn't trigger someone into raising a Twitter mob against me. 

In any event, I decided given what I do for a living, to give up writing The Grades was the prudent thing to do. I don't regret that decision, but I do regret not experiencing the fun of grading the performance of the 2020 Crimson Tide football team, and sharing that with the readers of this blog.

I have no training as a journalist, or sports writer. I've always admired people who are good at that difficult endeavor, and the sports writer I admired most was Cecil Hurt. 

I never had the pleasure of meeting Cecil. But, I do have the privilege of being friends with some folks who knew him well. Readers of this Blog know one of those friends as The Correspondent From The Tire Store.  The Tire Store Correspondent was my law partner for two decades and has been my friend for nearly three. 

I called The Tire Store, and asked Our Correspondent if he was willing to post a memorial tribute to Cecil Hurt. He was, and I am proud to share it with you:

I hope you had a nice Thanksgiving.

In case you missed the news over the holiday week, it is my sad duty to point out that the long-time Tuscaloosa News beat writer for Crimson Tide athletics, Cecil Hurt, has passed away.  He was 62.

I met Cecil when we were undergrads.  In addition to being in the same program (and at a time when the University student population was less than half its current size), for a time the young woman Cecil was dating happened to be best friends with the young woman who had made the questionable decision to go out with me.  Cecil and I spoke occasionally over the years.   Knowing of my connection, the Commissioner asked if I would write a little bit about Cecil.  I am honored to do so.

If you are an Alabama fan, then even if you never met Cecil, you probably somehow feel as if you knew him anyway.  Through his writing, podcasting, Twitter work, appearances on radio and television -- you felt like  you knew who he was.  And you were right.

Cecil Hurt was exactly as you would have expected if you followed his work, even just occasionally.  I remember him as delightfully unpretentious.  He always looked like he had forgotten to comb his hair, was carrying a few extra pounds (that he wasn't worrying about), and his clothing was sort of comfortably rumpled.  He was a bit surprisingly soft-spoken.  But if you were smart enough to shut up and listen to him, you would find a sharp mind, a deep knowledge of Alabama sports (especially football and basketball), and a set of sources whose trust he had earned the hard way.  Cecil was a gentleman.  In my experience he was friendly, gracious, and above all, hard-working.  On any given day he might report about a play in the last game you didn't notice, a walk-on who was making good in practice, or present an extended analogy comparing  the current season to the Punic Wars.  Sneaky-smart was Cecil.

Covering a program like Alabama seems like a dream come true to the average fan.  The job is clearly in the "Careful What You Wish For" category.   Most people only think of travelling to premier away games on the newspaper's expense account, writing and talking about football for a living, and eating free dinner in the climate-controlled press box with its premium view of the field.

 The reality is a bit more harsh.  Those were working trips.  The press box itself is a newsroom with a work desk and except for the clatter of keyboards, a relatively quiet space.   Watching the game and cheering on your team is a bit different than having to watch the game with detachment, notice the key details that people expect you to deliver, being there for warm-ups and hanging around till the end of the coach's press conference.  Then making sure your work was complete in time to land in the reading public's driveway no later than 7 a.m.  Those cool expense account trips also meant that on Sunday when a lot of people were relaxing with a cup of coffee and reading your work, you were slogging home from Baton Rouge, or Gainesville, or College Station, because there was an injury report and wrap up to write and the weekly press conference is always on Monday....  And for every thrilling LSU or Tennessee or Auburn game you get to cover, there's also a Southern Miss or North Texas State or Mississippi College of Cosmetology and Autobody Repair which requires the same effort and analysis.

Cecil's writing style set him apart.  His dissection of a game or season was spot on.  Lots of people could do that.  Cecil, however, could present that material in a way that was accessible to seasoned football insiders as well the average 5th grade fan in Gordo or Moulton.  Especially early in his career, people who do a lot of writing would just occasionally get to see the artifacts that crop up in work that has been thoughtfully written, but carefully rewritten, which is often the difference between good and great.   For work on deadline that had several steps to undergo between the final punctuation and getting tossed out of a speeding car window at 6 a.m. you could occasionally catch an extra "of" or a noun verb agreement problem.   Rereading would sometimes give a clue as to the original content of a splintery sentence that had been gone back over with plane, sandpaper, and shellac to get it where it needed to be.

Coach Saban, no particular fan of the press as you might have noticed, issued a heartfelt statement about Cecil's passing.  You've probably seen it.  More telling was a night I recall from his radio show when a caller had asked about press conferences.  Cecil happened to be the special guest that night.  Saban said, "Some people just don't have very good questions.  They just feel the need to talk. And everyone only gets one question.  I wish Cecil got to ask more questions.  He's a smart guy."  Let that simmer for a minute.

I am running out of room and still have not done my friend justice.  Perhaps an example will help.  When the NCAA decided to hand down some of the harshest penalties in its history for what were, relatively speaking, minor violations in the Alabama football program, Cecil asked what seemed to be an innocuous question.  What, he asked the apparatchik from a backwater athletic conference who was pontificating about the punishments handed down, could the University have done to be more cooperative with the NCAA as it investigated the football program.  The answer, in a moment of foolish candor was, "nothing." In fact, he allowed, Alabama had been a model of cooperation.  Yet it still was hammered.

 Cecil managed to build a series of columns around that concept.  And, in my opinion, started the now nearly complete destruction of the NCAA's investigation and enforcement procedures.  Other universities were watching closely.  The message was clear and Cecil drove it home with all the subtlety of a toss sweep to Derrick Henry -- when the NCAA comes calling, hire lawyers, hide the records, shut up, and whatever you do, don't follow Alabama's example.

And so (to borrow a phrase) we say good-bye to our gallant friend.  With all due respect to the current press corps, and there are many who cover Alabama well, I do not expect to see his equal in my lifetime.  Cecil Hurt knew more about Alabama athletics than hundreds of the rest of us combined.  He was never on the bleeding edge, but never backed away from asking hard questions or calling it like he saw it.  On Twitter, he was never shy about unsheathing his wit like a stiletto to puncture some overblown gasbag hiding behind a screen alias.

A move is afoot to have the University name the fancy new press box after Cecil.  Now, my alma mater has never missed a chance to put money in the coffers by selling naming rights.  For example, for the last building added to the ever-growing business school, the kindly mother solicited me to sponsor a study carrel.   In this case, however, perhaps the powers that be will understand the contributions Cecil has made over the years. He predates the vast majority of the current administration.  It seems to me a fitting tribute.  Cecil loved Alabama athletics so much that he was willing to tell the truth about it for nearly four decades.  I'd say the honor has been paid for and then some.  If you'd like to voice your support for that movement the University president is Dr. Stuart Bell, whom you can reach at president@ua.edu.  The athletic director does not share his email address, but you can reach him through Twitter @greg_byrne or through J Batt Senior Deputy Athletics Direct at jbatt@ia.ua.edu.

Thanks for everything, Cecil.  I'll miss your work.  Rest in peace.  Roll Tide, buddy.

The Correspondent From The Tire Store

Thursday, September 2, 2021

Hurrah. Football is here at last.

 

Happy Football Season, everyone.  From all of us down here at the Tire Store, we hope that you and your families are well.  Please be safe.  Hope to see you over in Atlanta on Saturday. It has been a long time since we last met the Hurricanes but I hope the outcome is just as satisfying.

In the meantime, please enjoy this annual reminder from the immortal Lewis Grizzard.  Roll Tide.  Beat Miami.  RIP Lewis.

 

 I was walking behind a friend and his wife as we entered the Louisiana Superdome in New Orleans on January 1, 1981, to watch Georgia play Notre Dame in the Sugar Bowl.  If Georgia won, the Bulldogs would be the 1980 national collegiate football champions.

 My friend, a fellow Georgia alumnus, was fraught with anticipation.  He was pale.  He was nervous.  He was perspiring profusely.

 ***

His wife, noticing his condition said, “Calm down sweetheart.  It’s just a football game.”

 He stopped dead.  He turned to his wife -- who had not gone to Georgia, and went to Bulldog games with her husband because she thought of it as her wifely duty -- looked her squarely in the eyes and said: “It is not just a football game.  It’s our way of life against theirs.”

 He meant that.  I knew the man well enough to know he did, in fact, mean that.

 It had something to do with Southerners against Northerners.  Maybe it even had something to with his Methodist upbringing and the pope.

 Whatever, it was clearly Us versus Them.  Us won that  day, tailback Herschel Walker leading Georgia to the national title….

 You can go into all that stuff about the pageantry of college football, the fact the players are unspoiled kids and not a bunch of millionaires, and it’s a nice way to spend an afternoon and evening with friends.

 But with me and mine, and with a lot of others, college football offers us an opportunity to circle our wagons and fight and kick and scream for our side against their side.

 I suppose that’s also possible in politics and various cultural disagreements, but all that can get a little cloudy at times.

 College football and allegiances are clear as an October Saturday afternoon.  We haven’t had a war in 50 years that wasn’t tangled up in dissent and questionable motives….  But when Georgia meets Florida, when Auburn plays Alabama, when Ohio State gathers against Michigan, there are no such nagging annoyances.

 Our way of life against theirs; clear as a bell.

 And there is the opportunity to feel proud of something. Congress can waste your money, the president can lie to you, and your kid can wear an earring and watch MTV, but if your alma mater is 8-0, who’s sweating the small stuff?

 And probably more than anything else, it also offers the opportunity to share in what is believed to be a noble cause, and such breeds friendships that can endure all else….

 College football season is the best time I live.  I once risked my life because of college football. 

 In late August of 1985 following two weeks in the Soviet Union, I found myself in a hospital in London with a deadly infection of the artificial aortic valve in my heart.  The British doctor said it would probably be necessary for me to remain there for six weeks’ treatment.

 Georgia was to open its football season on Labor Day night a week later against Alabama in Athens.  I slipped out of the hospital, caught a cab to Gatwick Airport and flew back to Atlanta. 

 When asked later why I would risk my life in such a manner, I said, “I wasn’t about to stay in no foreign country during college football season.”

 Us could win them all this year, or Us could lose a few.  But, right or wrong, win or lose, always Us.

 And Them can go to hell.  Is there any part of that that isn’t absolutely clear?

 

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