Washed Weekly: Drive-By Egg'ing, Schloss, & Chicago
Out Chicago way.
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I Think My Car Was Targeted By A Drive-By Egg’ing
by
Tuesday, 6:42 p.m.
It was innocent. I swear.
Between traffic and sun positioning, scheduling anything in Austin over golden hour is a dicey proposition. The drivers here are nothing to write home about and—as much as I hate to say it—I think I’m in the meatier part of the bell curve after growing up in a city without stoplights.
As I approached the four-way stop, I looked ahead. The car to my right pulling out making a left turn, a runner stopped at the corner. In my wife’s Chevrolet Tahoe, I lurched forward into the sunset before seeing something you never want to see: that very same runner in the middle of the intersection.
I slammed on the brakes with my life before giving an immediate hand-up “my bad” signal that fell on understandably flat ears. While my heart raced, I knew it was nothing compared the runner who I had just spooked.
Making my turn with extreme caution, I slowed down once more to wave and express my sincere apologies. She looked at me, made a face, and just kept on running.
Me? I hung my head. I paused the Widespread Panic playing, as it was surely playing loud enough in my heart. Simply put, I felt horrible.
Throughout our work dinner, I found myself thinking about it. Anything from “glad she’s okay” to “I bet she’s roasting me in her group chat right now.” I even brought it up at the end of the dinner to those sitting around me. I needed the catharsis that came with getting it off my chest. I needed a clean slate.
I wasn’t texting. I wasn’t messing with the music. I wasn’t driving aggressively. I would have been, however, at fault.
Thursday, 8:41 a.m.
“What… what the hell?”
The sun was brighter than it has felt all summer and I had left my sunglasses in the car. I squinted at the back of my vehicle and thought, “Is that… is that egg?”
One. Two. Three. Four. Two direct shots at the tailgate, a little yolk dribble down the bumper, and enough shells on the ground that I could see it being up to six total eggs involved.
Immediately, I brushed it off. “I bet it was just some young hooligans in the neighborhood stirring up trouble.” A very dad realization.
That is, until I pulled out and approached the very same intersection to take that very same turn. I looked both ways (twice) and headed toward the car wash. Until it hit me.
“Did the runner come back and egg my car?”
And the more I thought about it, the more I began to buy in completely on my theory. After all, if someone nearly hit me during my 100-degree June run in Austin, I’d want to egg their car too. Like, I get it.
But could she possibly be this calculated? Could she have thought about it all Wednesday to the point where she finally said, “Fuck it, I’m egging this fucker’s car”? This feels totally reasonable in my mind, especially after watching the show Beef. Fortunately for me, I have no room in my conscience to have any ill will toward her. If anything, I hope this cured her hatred for me.
Would it make her feel better to know that the $12 car wash barely helped? Does she realize these egg shells on my gravel will be a constant reminder to me for the next few days? Would she revel in the fact that I spent my first 20 minutes at work today scrubbing egg yolk out of the grooves in my bumper?
Deep down, I hope so.
A Texas Fan’s Thoughts on the Jim Schlossnagle Situation
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Most of you know that I’m a Texas Longhorn fan. Full disclosure: I did not attend the University of Texas. I grew up in Austin, however. Born and raised. The UT athletic programs have always been my default pro teams, as Austin never had any of those growing up. And I barely count Austin FC as a pro team, plus they’ve only been around a few years.
Some of my fondest memories as a Texas fan were watching Ricky Williams run wild at DKR, including his record-breaking game against Texas A&M in 1998 when he set the all-time rushing record. It was the loudest I’ve ever heard that stadium erupt. Anyway, I love UT sports. A lot. More than any pro team that I follow. UT baseball ranks right behind football in terms of teams I would most like to see succeed.
I also like to fancy myself as a very level-headed Texas fan. I’m not one of these Texas-can-do-no-wrong types. I criticize when criticism is due, and I celebrate when Texas succeeds.
Rewind to Monday night when Texas A&M lost to Tennessee in the best-of-three College World Series final. In the postgame press conference, A&M head coach Jim Schlossnagle was asked about the rumors swirling that Texas was trying to hire him away from the Aggies to fill their head coaching vacancy.
A reporter from Texags.com fairly asked him about the rumors. His response was deflective and aggressive toward the reporter, calling him selfish for asking such a forward question less than an hour after a crushing loss.
Schloss went on to say he took the A&M job with the intention of never taking another job again. He also added that he had given his all to the A&M program and their fans. He didn’t outright say the rumors were untrue, but he clearly implied that he’d be coaching at Texas A&M for the foreseeable future.
Why not say something to the effect of:
“I have a locker room full of upset kids right now so I’m not addressing any rumors. I’m happy where I am.”
Schlossnagle led TCU to multiple CWS appearances and gave Texas A&M a chance to win their first ever national championship in baseball. By all accounts, he’s a hell of a coach who recruits top end talent and has assembled one of the best coaching staffs in all of college baseball.
For this, I am excited.
The way it went down was handled poorly, though. I can’t think of a rational reason for Texas to announce the firing of David Pierce the morning of the CWS final, if not to initiate murmurs of the exact narrative that ended up playing out the very next day. Why not announce the next day? Why not weeks sooner after Texas was eliminated in the regional tournament (by Texas A&M, mind you)?
The optics of the timing of the firing aren’t fantastic. Nor is the timing of the announcement of Schloss being hired by Texas. Not even 24 hours after Texas A&M lost, it was leaked on Twitter that Schloss had accepted the Texas job. Hours later, it was announced that his three assistants were joining him in Austin.
Is it possible that the entire hiring process between Texas and all four A&M baseball coaches occurred in those ~20 hours following the game? I suppose. Is it much more likely that these conversations started much sooner than Monday night? Uh, h’yeah.
For me, though, that’s not the worst of it. The worst part is that Jim Schlossnagle flew back to College Station with his team, was greeted by fans upon his arrival, and said farewell to his players from the clubhouse – all without any of them knowing what was about to transpire.
He didn’t tell his team despite ample opportunity to do so. That’s kind of sorry.
For as great as Texas Athletic Director Chris Del Conte is at his job, and there’s a strong case to be made he’s the nation’s best, I have no doubt he’d want the last few days back and try again.
The chatter will die down as this debacle gets smaller in the rearview mirror, and the hope is that the way in which this was handled doesn’t affect recruiting too much. Schloss has at least one fan to win over, though.
What I’m Cooking, Drinking, And Watching This Weekend
by Dave
What I’m Cooking
I’m cooking up bits for Chicago. Firm handshakes. Over-the-top daps for the backers. Introducing myself as Dillon to confuse the listeners. All the hits are getting played. Reminder: we will be at the Mugsy Jeans store on Armitage Friday from 5-7 (20 percent off everything) and Slugger’s in Wrigleyville from 6-late on Saturday. One shot rule in effect for me. No Malort. Certianly no cicada infused Malort.
What I’m Drinking
What’s the move when you’re three weeks shy of 40 and on a trip to Chicago with your podcast company to meet the people who listen? Anyone ever encountered this scenario? If so, let me know. I believe in keeping it simple. A few beers during the day and potentially switching to the cabinet juice once the sun goes down. Friday night, we’re not touching anything other than that clear tequila. Night number one is all about risk mitigation for me. The last thing I need is to be nauseous on a boat looking at architecture.
Night two is all about flexibility. We learned during the Houston meetup that guzzling three El Tiempo margs immediately before is not the move. We won’t have that problem this time around, largely because there are no El Tiempos up around Chicago-way. Still, danger lurks around every corner. Beer gardens, blues bars, and who could forget the bloody mary station at Parlor? I must resist temptation so that I may give you, the listener, a version of myself that won’t give me anxiety on the flight home Sunday. That flight isn’t until 1, but please keep me in your prayers.
What I’m Watching
I’ve given people in this company (Dillon) a lot of shit for failing to see movies I deem funny. When it came out that I had never seen The Interview, I was forced to take one on the chin. For whatever reason, that apparent “classic” has eluded me. This could change on our flight. Depending on how much of The Bear I burn through tonight, I might be movie on the plane guy. That’s right. It doesn’t look like raw dogging either flight is in the cards, but this is all subject to change. I’ll sadly be a middle seat on this flight, and I hate fumbling around with my electronics on a plane.
See you in Chicago!
Dillon’s Track House - June 27
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Dave introducing himself as Dillon. Me introducing myself as Dave. Randy ordering 2 glasses of milk pleashe from a bartender at Sluggers who wants absolutely none of our shit. I cannot wait
The dealer license plate frame on Will’s car is outrageous and deserves a full segment on Retail Therapy. You don’t have to keep those.