March Madness Midnight News

On the CBS11 set with the talented Doug Dunbar

When you work in news, March Madness means you might do the late show well after midnight.

This year I don't really mind, since it is helping me pass the time until my daughter plays her First Round NCAA game tomorrow against DePaul at 12:30pm. It can't get here fast enough!

Courtesy: University of Oklahoma

This has been a tough year for my #1 Sooner, Nicole Kornet. A learning year. A growing year.

She's battled back and is on the other side now. I am so very proud of her.

So this text message today TRULY made my day. She sent it to the family after practice at the uber-cool Cameron Indoor Stadium at Duke University in Durham, NC:

Please ignore the fact I once again took a screen shot with the edit prompts. (I'm a loser.)

Nicole said basketball is FUN! And she loves it!

As a musical theater/dance team/sorority girl, I give these college athletes so much credit. On top of their academic responsibilities, they work out intensely for hours every day for 4 or 5 straight years. No Spring Break. No Thanksgiving or Christmas vacations. No free summers.

I don't know about you, but the toughest part of my college experience was getting up for an 8am Italian class after a night of half-price beers.

The coolest thing is, these kids (at least the ones I know) have NEVER complained about it. They know it's all part of the deal. And that the opportunity to play is really, really special.

Just a little food for thought as you continue to cheer for the young men and women on your favorite March Madness teams.

And, if you don't mind, please tune in to CBS11 News after the game. Our own team is producing an information-packed newscast.

You just might need to ignore the toothpicks propping our eye sockets open.

Comments

That Little Blonde Girl

The first week of my first tv anchor job, my milk came in ten minutes before the start of the early morning newscast. My newborn daughter was just three months old. I recall standing in my nursing bra and skirt in the tiny station bathroom, frantically blow-drying the massive wet spots from my periwinkle Casual Corner blazer. That little girl turns 25 this Friday. One of my most vivid memories of Nicole Elizabeth’s childhood-- of which there are millions-- was her first day of 7th grade in a massive middle school outside of Dallas, Texas. We had moved mid-year from Phoenix, and her dad, little brother and I were walking Nicole to her new classroom. Her future classmates were sitting on the floor outside, lined up against the hallway, waiting to leave for P.E.. As we approached, one little blonde girl shouted, “New girl, sit here!” Another joined in, “No. Sit here!” And another, “What’s your name, new girl?” I was stunned--flab

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