Schoffner

Easy audience

Entertainers must love performing in Des Moines. It's such an easy auidence.

Take last night, for instance. Frankie Valli, of The Four Seasons fame, played the Civic Center and he got a standing ovation just for walking out on the stage. He hadn't done a thing, yet people stood and clapped anyway.

Maybe they were showing their appreciation that Frankie, at age 77, was still able to walk onto a stage. Or maybe they were applauding the fact that here was a guy well past his prime who would try to sing "Sherry" and "Walk Like A Man," songs with falsetto parts more suitable for a 12-year-old whose voice hasn't changed.

He sang both songs, of course, and yeah, he didn't hit those high notes quite like he did in the 60s, but he was pretty darn close. Pam joked that when he knew he couldn't hit a note, those were the times he held the microphone out for the audience to sing along.

Frankie had four young male singers -- The New Seasons? -- backing him. It was fun to see those guys get into the songs because they weren't even born when Frankie and the original Seasons hit the big time. Frankie had his own six-piece band, plus an imported five-man horn section. They either play together a lot or spend hours rehearsing because it was a very slick production.

At one point, Frankie said he was going to do some songs from a new CD. That's usually the low point for an "oldies" show because fans don't want to hear new songs. They want the old ones they remember from their youth. Fans still cheer when Paul McCartney sings his recent material, but they go wild when he does Beatles stuff.

But Frankie's "new" material turned out to be his version of old songs like "Call Me," "Spanish Harlem" and "Let It Be Me," so it was OK. I never could have envisioned a medley that combined "My Girl" and Groovin'," but Frankie and his bandmates pulled it off. 

In the end, it was a typical concert featuring a popular act from long ago who still has it. Audience members cheered, sang along, danced and clapped in rhythm to the music. And I always think: 40 or 50 years from now, will today's Justin Bieber fans still be going to his shows and singing along?

I just can't see that happening.

Pam and I saw "Jersey Boys" a couple of years ago, so when we learned Frankie Valli would be here, we decided we had to check out the real thing. Or at least one-fourth of the real thing.

Trust me, the real thing was better.

 

 

Iowa-Iowa State 10 years ago

Every generation, it seems, has that riveting moment, when there's an event of such magnitude that you'll always remember where you were when the news broke. My parents' generation had Pearl Harbor. For those of us who are Baby Boomers, it was President Kennedy's assassination (sixth-period study hall in the eighth grade at Elida Junior High School). Those born after JFK was shot had the September 11 terrorist attacks 10 years ago.

Pam and I were in the kitchen, watching one of the morning news shows on our 9-inch portable TV, when the jets slammed into the Twin Towers. I was getting ready to drive to Ames for Iowa State's weekly football press conference and, with a full staff in the AP Des Moines office working on the Iowa angles, I was still free to see what was happening at ISU.

It was eeriely quiet. All the regular reporters were there, but the normal kidding and jocularity was absent. Everyone seemed compelled to speak in hushed tones. The Iowa-Iowa State game was to be played in Ames that Saturday and it was like no one wanted to appear crass enough to ask the question until someone finally ventured, "Do you think they'll play the game?"

The question went unanswered that day, a Tuesday. The next day, the two schools announced they would play. A day later, the game was off, part of a domino effect of postponements started by the NFL. Eventually, officials from the schools decided to reschedule the game for the end of the season, on November 24.

Maybe it was because of what led to the new date, but I didn't notice the rancor and pettiness among fans that usually occurs during the week of this game. The terrorist attacks had given us a new perspective on sports. Also, both teams were 6-5, so each had a good chance of going to a bowl regardless of who won. No need to get upset about anything. Just play football. And it turned out to be one of the better games in the series -- for me, maybe the most enjoyable of all the Iowa-Iowa State games I've covered.

Iowa State won 17-14. The game wasn't decided until ISU's Adam Runk made a late interception and quarterback Seneca Wallace ran for a first down that enabled the Cyclones to run out the clock. Both teams received bowl bids and Iowa got the better deal: the Alamo Bowl in San Antonio. Iowa State went to the Independence Bowl in Shreveport.

So, which game to cover? I'd never had to make that choice because this was the first time in my career that both teams went to a bowl. Hmmm.

Actually, it was an easy decision. Sorry, Cyclones, I just couldn't pass up a chance to go to San Antonio and hang out on the River Walk. Which I did -- after spending each day working, of course.

Now it's 10 years later and we're getting ready for another Iowa-Iowa State game. Iowa State needs to win more than Iowa does because when you look at the Cyclones' schedule, you don't see many potential victories. But the Hawkeyes have regained the momentum in this series and they're going to play just as hard to keep it going.

Just give me a game that's close and entertaining and I'll mark it down as a good day.

 

A wall of their own

Fenway Park has its Green Monster, Wrigley Field its ivy. Old Crosley Field in Cincinnati had a terrace angling up to the outfield wall, which made life interesting -- and sometimes perilous -- for those chasing down fly balls.

Unique touches are part of a ballpark's charm and so it goes with the Martensdale-St. Marys High School diamond in the tiny town of St. Marys, south of Des Moines. When a hitter sends the left fielder back to the wall, you can take that literally. Because part of the left field fence truly is a wall _ the brick wall of an old gym.

There's no longer a school attached to it and it's not even a gym anymore. Now it houses -- get this -- an indoor hitting area. Martensdale-St. Marys may play in Class 1A, the division with the state's smallest schools, but it's strictly big-time when it comes to baseball.

The building's roof rises initially at a modest angle from the top of the wall, then inclines more sharply upward to the peak. A ball that hits off the wall is in play. A ball landing on the roof is a home run. Learning that bit of information took me back to my younger days when I'd stand in the barnyard of my grandparents' farm in western Ohio, toss a ball into the air and try to hit it onto the roof of the barn. Or, if I really got ahold of it (that happened only rarely), over the barn.

The St. Marys diamond, which sits on the east edge of town, doesn't have a barn. But a postcard-perfect white church stands beyond the right field fence, replete with stained glass windows and a tall, elegant steeple. I forgot to ask if a powerful left-handed hitter had ever broken one of those windows.

Naturally -- this being Iowa, after all -- a cornfield borders the ballpark down the left and right field lines. That adds to the challenge of finding foul balls that carry out of the park, but there's always a handful of youngsters eager to tromp through the rows of green stalks to find them.

On a warm summer evening, with the sun dipping behind the church, a baseball fan would be hard pressed to find a more bucolic spot to watch a game. Did I mention the concession stand? Alas, no cheese balls, but bag of popcorn, a hot dog and a large pop costs all of $3.50. Let's see, $3.50 in a major league park would get you, well, it probably wouldn't get you anything.

Topping it off, you get to see one heck of a high school baseball team. On Thursday night, Martensdale-St. Marys routed Winterset 18-3 (it took the Blue Devils only 3 1/3 innings to score all those runs) for its 60th straight victory, which broke the state record held by Lansing Kee, another small-school baseball giant. 

Highlighting the victory: Robert Walker tagged one onto the left field roof, the ball landing with a thump and rolling halfway to the top before tumbling back down. The church, on this night, escaped untouched.

If the Blue Devils win out and claim their second consecutive state championship, their streak could reach into the upper 80s.

Even those diehards at Fenway would be impressed with that.

 

Oh, the things you learn

A little research can turn up the darndest bits of information.

What I found Friday is a perfect example. I was looking for some background on Chuck Connors. Now, anyone from my generation knows Connors starred in the TV series The Rifleman as Lucas McCain, the sharp-shooting rancher who was always helping the local sheriff deal with the bad guys. And most trivia buffs can tell you that Connors also played major league baseball, albeit for a short stint -- one game with the Brooklyn Dodgers, 66 with the Chicago Cubs. More than a cup of coffee, but not enough for a caffeine high. He did manage to hit two home runs, though, one of them off New York Giants ace Sal Maglie.

What I didn't know until Friday was that Connors also played professional basketball. He was tall and lean around at 6-feet-6, so he certainly had the build. And this was in the 1940s, when 6-6 meant you played center. Anyway, Connors played one season for the Rochester Royals, another for the Boston Celtics and then played four games in a second season with the Celtics.

Alas, his hardwood career was just as undistinguished as his career on the diamond. It turns out that ol' Chuck's TV character was a much better shot than the guy who played basketball. During his time with the Celtics, Connors shot, get this, 25 percent from the field.

Yikes.

Oh, but there's more. It seems that Connors' most noteworthy achievement in basketball was becoming the first NBA player to shatter a backboard. Once I stumbled onto this little nugget, I found it mentioned in many places. But really, who knew?

The thing is, Connors didn't break the glass board with an eye-popping, Blake Griffin-type dunk. And no, he didn't shoot it with his rifle. All it took was an ordinary shot hitting in just the right place. Or, in this case, the wrong place.

It happened while the Celtics were warming up for a game with the Chicago Stags at Boston Arena. They had to move out of the Celtics' usual home, Boston Garden, because Gene Autry's rodeo was playing there. Everything seemed fine, except that a worker had failed to insert a piece of protective rubber between the rim and backboard. So when Connors fired up a two-handed set shot, the ball clanked off the rim (what would you expect from a 25 percent shooter?) and, as fans and players looked on in shock, the backboard shattered.

You know what a really bad shot in basketball is called, right?

Yep, Chuck Connors shot the ultimate brick.

 

 

 

Butler coach is tops

Notre Dame basketball coach Mike Brey has been raking in the hardware lately. The Associated Press named him its men's coach of the year. So did Basketball Times and the United States Basketball Writers Assocation. 

Brey is deserving of those awards. He did a fine job with the Irish this season. They won 27 games, challenged for the Big East regular-season championship, earned a No. 2 seed in the NCAA tournament and reached the Sweet Sixteen, all notable accomplishments.

But someone else has proven himself to be the best basketball coach in the country. How can you not give that tag to Butler's Brad Stevens? Two straight years in the national championship game? Butler?

It defies comprehension. Because he's not doing it with McDonald's All-Americans coming out of high school. As the old joke goes, Roy Williams, John Calipari, Bill Self and Mike Krzyzewski sign McDonald's All-Americans. Stevens' guys eat at McDonald's.

Let's be fair. The Bulldogs aren't just a bunch of guys that Stevens rounded up one noon at the YMCA. The star of last season's team, sophomore Gordon Hayward, was good enough to go in the first round of the NBA draft and is now with the Utah Jazz. Matt Howard, this season's leader, was regarded as a top 100 high school player by some recruiting services.  Shelvin Mack, Ronald Nored and Zach Hahn were all-state players in high school.

Still, these weren't players who had coaches across the country drooling over them. They're just solid players who know the game, understand their limitations and can figure out how to capitalize on their strengths. And for the second straight year, they're playing on the final night of the season while the bluebloods of the game can only watch.  

Stevens looks like your high school valedictorian. If you were a bartender and he walked in and ordered a drink, you'd card him.  But Stevens knows which buttons to push and when. He's got it figured out and he coaches players who know how to win. Heck, they easily could have gotten knocked out in the first round by Old Dominion. But there was Howard, in exactly the right place for a putback just ahead of the buzzer.

Virginia Commonwealth was loaded with athletes, yet Butler outrebounded them by 16 in Saturday night's national semifinal and held the Rams to ... let's see ... oh, zero fastbreak points. Pittsburgh shot 62 percent against Butler in the second half, yet the Bulldogs still won. They held Wisconsin, one of the most efficient teams around, to 30 percent shooting. When Butler and Florida were tied at the end of regulation, it was time for us to leave to join some friends for dinner, so I turned the TV off. When Pam queried, "Don't you want to see the end of the game?" I told her, "I don't like Butler's chances in overtime." Shows what I know: Butler 74, Florida 71.

Connecticut is favored by 3 1/2 points in Monday night's championship game, which makes sense. UConn's Kemba Walker will be the best player on the floor. The Huskies' coach, Jim Calhoun, is more than twice Stevens' age and already has won two national titles. And they've been an amazing story themselves, winning five games in five days in the Big East tournament, then adding five more victories in the NCAAs.

But win or lose, Stevens still gets my vote. What he's done the last two years is nothing short of remarkable. You sure wouldn't want to count he and his team out Monday night.

 

 

A man who saw his duty ... and fulfilled it

Bob Feller's baseball career overflows with achievement and records, which is to be expected from the man who once was voted the "greatest living right-hander." With Feller's death this week, his accomplishments once again are getting attention.

And they are impressive: 266 victories, 2,581 strikeouts, seven seasons leading the American League in strikeouts, three no-hitters and, a figure to me that is even more astounding, 12 one-hitters. When Feller was on, he couldn't be touched. He was voted into the Hall of Fame in his first year of eligibility and remains today the greatest of all Cleveland Indians.

But there's something I find even more admirable than all the victories and all the times he sent batters trudging back to the dugout after yet another futile attempt to hit him. Two days after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, Feller, at the age of 23 and just coming into his prime as a pitcher, enlisted in the U.S. Navy, the first major-leaguer to do so.

Can you imagine a professional athlete nowadays volunteering to go fight in Iraq or Afghanistan? Let's see, we had football player Pat Tillman, we had ... well, he's the only one I can think of.

But it was different in the 1940s. When we went to war then, Americans weren't told to take the kids on vacation, as our former president suggested after the terrorist attacks of 2001. No, they sucked it up and sacrificed and the thousands who were young enough and healthy enough joined the fight.

Many major league baseball players were drafted. Others enlisted. Ted Williams not only lost prime playing years during World War II, he was back in uniform flying fighter jets during the Korean War.

Feller lost the entire 1942, '43 and '44 seasons and most of the 1945 season while in the Navy. Instead of winning games, he won eight battle stars serving as chief of an anti-aircraft battery on the battleship USS Alabama.

In the three years before the war, Feller won 24, 27 and 25 games. In the first two full seasons following his return, he won 26 and 20 games. His strikeout totals in those five seasons: 246, 261, 260, 348 and 196.

So, it's reasonable to assume that had Feller not served -- and as the sole supporter of his family he could have received a deferment -- he would have had 90 to 100 more victories, which would have put him well over 300, and about  1,000 more strikeouts. But Feller never whined about his lost numbers because he felt he was doing something far more important. He often said his greatest victory was winning the war.

Feller was blunt and outspoken. You could say that at times, he was a grouch. Pam would use the word crotchety. But I had no problems in the only two professional dealings I had with the former fireballer.

When I covered the opening of his museum in Van Meter in 1995, Feller was the perfect host and signed autographs until the last fan was satisfied. Several years later, I returned to the museum for an appearance by Ralph Branca and Bobby Thomson, forever entwined in baseball lore because Branca threw the pitch that Thomson hit for the home run that became The Shot Heard 'Round the World. Now they were friends and even had developed their own little schtick. It wasn't Rowan and Martin or the Smothers Brothers, but they were entertaining and fun to be around.

When I introduced myself, Feller fixed me up with a seat between Branca and Thomson so I could talk to them while they signed autographs. Afterward, he thanked me for coming and asked if I got everything I needed.

So, I have nothing but positive memories of Feller. And as a beleaguered Indians fan (that's probably redundant), oh how I wish he was still pitching.

 

So long, Big Red

It's going to feel a little strange when Nebraska plays Iowa State in Ames on Saturday. Because it most likely will be the very last time we see the Cornhuskers at Jack Trice Stadium.

That's too bad, and I say that even though the games with Nebraska usually have turned out  badly for Iowa State. They've been playing each other since 1896 and this will be the 105th game between the two rivals, though it's hard to call the series a rivalry because it's so lopsided. Iowa State has won only 18 of those games.

Still, the Cornhuskers always have been an attraction when they showed up. They had such tradition and such good players. No matter how much you'd read about Turner Gill, Mike Rozier, Roger Craig, Ahman Green, Tommie Frazier, Eric Crouch and, the best name of all, I.M. Hipp, and no matter how often you watched them on TV, it was much more interesting to see them in person.

Besides, the Nebraska helmets always were good for a joke, you know, the one about the big red "N" standing for Nowledge.

The few times Iowa State did manage to beat Nebraska made it all the more satisfying for the Cyclones. Heck, in most cases, it made their season. To this day, the most memorable play I've ever seen from the Cyclones came against Nebraska. It was the 1992 game and if the name Marv Seiler pops to mind, we're thinking alike.

Iowa State prevailed 19-10 in a game it had no business winning. Nebraska was ranked seventh in the country and coming off routs of Colorado (52-7) and Kansas (49-7), both nationally ranked. Iowa State was 3-6 and a 28-point underdog.

The Cyclones led 12-10 early in the fourth quarter after four Ty Stewart field goals, but it seemed inevitable that Nebraska would get serious, score a couple of quick touchdowns and put it away. That was Seiler, a fifth-year senior making the first start of his career at quarterback, became an unlikely hero. From his own 20, Seiler kept the ball on an option to the right, found daylight as he turned upfield and headed for the far-off end zone.

Marvelous Marv went 78 yards before safety Tyrone Byrd dragged him down 2 yards short of a touchdown. Byrd caught Seiler about 20 yards earlier and tried to strip the ball as he rode him. Then, it was like Byrd realized, "Hey, I better bring this guy down before he scores."

Fullback Chris Ulrich did score on the next play, but it  wouldn't have mattered if he hadn't. Seiler's run had dissipated whatever wind was left in Nebraska's sails.

After Saturday, Nebraska can start a new rivalry in this state. The Cornhuskers are leaving the Big 12 for what they perceive as greener pastures in the Big Ten and they'll play Iowa every year. It'll be fun to see how that matchup develops over the years.

Any Iowa future Iowa State-Nebraska game would have to come in a bowl. At least, that's the only time they should meet.  Scheduling Nebraska as a non-conference opponent would be absolutely foolish. With the Cyclones playing nine conference games starting next season and Iowa on the schedule for the foreseeable future, ISU needs to fill those other slots with schools that have directions or hyphens in their name. Nebraska-Omaha is fine. Nebraska is not.

And here's another piece of advice for Iowa State administrators: Don't even think about scheduling Utah again.

 

Big day at Iowa State

Another football Saturday at Iowa State is coming up and this one is huge.

It has nothing to do with the opponent (Northern Iowa) or the date (September 25) or the type of game we can expect (entertaining and competitive).

No, this game is big for a much more important reason.

It's Taco Day!

Iowa State serves up a pretty good spread in its pressbox on game days. Maybe not always the healthiest fare, but the menu changes with each game and the food is nicely prepared and tasty. And there's plenty of it.

They never put out a bad meal, either. But ISU pressbox veterans -- and I'm among the most veteran of all -- will tell you the tacos are the best of the lot. You can get beef or chicken (or both), hard shell or soft shell (or both), lettuce, tomatoes (not on my plate) and chips that you can drown with a thick, gooey cheese sauce.

As I said, we're not talking healthy eating here. But hey, once in a while you've got to stop to smell the nachos.

This year, though, there's a complication that will make things a bit more challenging.

Used to be, you could go up and down the food line as often as you wanted. Then, at halftime, out came dessert. Sometimes it was cookies, sometimes it was cupcakes, other times it was brownies or lemon bars. Whatever the item, few managed the discipline to resist them.

Now, to cut costs -- which is entirely understandable in these times -- the food folks limit you to one trip through the line. And the dessert is out there, too, so you have to work that onto your plate as well. You can pile on as much as you want, but only once.

So what's a taco-holic to do? Two huge soft shells? Three or four smaller hard shells? Stack the nachos and cheese sauce on top of everything else?

Hmm, this is going to require some strategy. Good thing the game doesn't start until 6 p.m. Gives me more time to plot.

Lest you think that's the only reason I'm going to Iowa State on Saturday, I just want to note that when kickoff approaches, I'll have my game face on (hopefully free of dried cheese sauce), eager and ready to pay attention and work.

Will I remember to wave at my friends Jim and Joyce at the end of the first quarter?

Probably not.

But it won't be because I have another plate of nachos beside me.

 

Iowa football: A frustrating duty

Retiring from full-time work has been incredibly liberating. I don't have to show up at an office. When I do work, I can pretty much set my own hours. I have more flexibility for just about everything I want to do, whether it's spending time with Pam, planning trips and long weekend getaways or just working in the yard.

If it's too wet to mow Wednesday, I'll do it Thursday. If we decide at the last minute to leave for a trip on Thursday instead of Friday, we do. If Pam and I decide we've worked enough by 3:30 or 4 in the afternoon, we quit and go sit on the porch. We might have a cocktail then or we might not. Depends on how we feel at the moment.

There's also another bonus to being on my own: I don't have to cover Iowa football on a daily basis. Now that would be frustrating. Sure, you get to cover a winner when you follow the Hawkeyes. You visit big-time stadiums and watch some of the brightest stars in college football. The season usually ends with a nice bowl trip. But all that comes with a price because your access to coach Kirk Ferentz and the players, especially at this time of year during preseason camp, is severely limited.

If you're one of the local reporters, that is. If you're with the Big Ten Network or have a national radio network talk show, well, that's entirely  different.

Look what's happened in just the last few days.

The local media had to confirm the fact that linebacker Jeff Tarpinian injured a hand by talking to Howard Griffith and Gerry DiNardo of the Big Ten Network. They were allowed to watch practice last Thursday. Local reporters weren't.

When Ferentz confirmed for the first time that running back Brandon Wegher had left camp, he did so on ESPN radio's Scott Van Pelt Show, not in a session with local reporters. To get an update on Wegher's situation, reporters had to listen to Ferentz on Fox Sports Radio.

If someone wants to be secretive, fine. But don't be secretive on a selective basis and freeze out the people who cover you day in and day out, the ones who keep the vast majority of your fans informed, not only through breaking news but with interesting features and analysis.

Reporters around here will cover the bad news when it happens, but it's been my experience that most would rather write stories with a positive bent. And it seems to me they've been incredibly fair with Ferentz. No one gripes too much when the Hawkeyes struggle. When something does go wrong, offensive coordinator Ken O'Keefe usually gets blamed. No one harps on the fact that while he's one of the highest paid coaches in the country and gets around $3 million a year, Ferentz has taken Iowa to only two BCS bowls -- and has a losing record against Iowa State.

The thing is, interview sessions with Ferentz are almost always pleasant. He doesn't toss out one-liners or homilies the way Hayden Fry did, but he gives reporters something they can use. And after his "formal" press conferences, he willingly steps to the side and answers more questions from print reporters. That's when those reporters get in the questions they really want to ask.

So c'mon, Kirk. It wouldn't hurt to give the local media a little more time. They might not dress as well as the network types or comb their hair as neatly, but they're a hard-working bunch who are fair and just want to do a good job. And they'll be there regardless of whether you're in the Top 10 of the nation or the bottom half of the Big Ten.

In the meantime, to all of you covering the Hawkeyes, I sympathize and feel your pain.

A day almost no one likes

Ah, yes, it's that time again, time for college football media days. They're among the rites of August, like the State Fair or back-to-school shopping. Everybody is undefeated and a bowl contender. The players are bigger, faster and stronger. They can't wait until that first game. Optimism courses through the team like the river of water that rushes through our front yard when it rains.

All the players and coaches are available for interviews, so it's easy for the reporters. Most everyone is smiling and happy.

Yet hardly anyone likes media days.

For reporters, it's the same thing every year -- listen to the coach talk for awhile, ask him some questions, then head out to the field and wait while the players have all sorts of "official" photographs taken.

Rarely does anything new come out of these sessions, other than maybe a player being suspended for some off-the-field transgression or learning of a couple of guys who, for one reason or the other, won't return. Players are coached to stick to the company line and answer questions politely but with caution so they don't say anything controversial.

For the players, it has to be even worse. It's usually hot and sticky and they're out there in full uniform in the middle of the day. Most end up sitting or standing around the whole time because they're not the stars and no one wants to talk to them, though I imagine for some, that's just fine.

The stars, meanwhile, are paraded in front of TV cameras, where they answer the same questions over and over. Finished with those interviews, they're promptly surrounded by writers and radio types and get the same questions yet again. I mean, how many times can Iowa State's Austen Arnaud come up with a creative way to answer when he's asked for the umpteeth time if the offense will be better now that everyone has a year of experience with coordinator Tom Herman's system.

Oh, and don't forget the photographers, who arrange the players in all kinds of silly poses to try to get something different. I'd like to see them go retro, back to those black and white photos of the 1940s and '50s, you know, the ones with the quarterback cocking his arm like he's getting ready to pass, the running back in a swivel-hipped pose while stiff-arming an imaginary opponent, the wide receiver pretending he's leaping to catch a pass and my personal favorite, a defensive lineman diving to the ground with arms and legs outstretched because, well, what else do you do with a defensive lineman?

So, why does everyone put themselves through this yearly exercise?

Mainly because that's just the way things are done. With everyone available in one place, reporters can stock up on stories for a couple of weeks. As repetitive as the questions might be, the players and coaches can get them out of the way in one day and then start concentrating on football. The school gets a ton of free publicity because newspapers and Web sites display their media day coverage prominently. It might be a drag, but in the end, everyone benefits.

Plus, if you're at Iowa State, like I was today, you can always go to Hickory Park for lunch. And that makes enduring almost anything tolerable.