When news broke this week accusing the former University of Nebraska, National Football League, NFL Europe, and Canadian Football League running back of murdering a cellmate, you’d have been hard-pressed to find anyone surprised at such allegations.
Tim Mitchell didn’t survive roster cuts his junior year at Orlando’s University High School. The following year he played a major role though in a successful season for the Cougars, setting the stage for where he is today. I had a chance to cover Mitchell during my time at the East Orlando Sun newspaper during the 2007-08 season. Below is an edited version of a story I wrote about him for the January 3, 2008 edition.
But first an update: Mitchell is currently finishing out his senior season at Southeastern University in Lakeland, Florida after helping lead the program to its first trip to the NAIA Division II tournament a year ago. Southeastern entered the postseason unseeded but finished third in the country after earning wins over No. 16 Huntington (Ind.), No. 1 Cardinal Stritch (Wis.) and No. 9 Davenport (Mich.), before falling to the eventual champions, No. 5 Indiana Wesleyan, in the semis.
Mitchell led all tournament players with nine blocked shots and averaged 10 points and 10.3 rebounds in four games for a team that finished 27-7 overall. During the 2013-14 season Mitchell blocked 67 shots and shot 58 percent from the floor while averaging 13.6 points and 10.1 rebounds per game. Southeastern is currently 15-11 overall and 9-8 in The Sun Conference.
ORLANDO, Fla. – When Tim Mitchell was unable to secure a roster spot at University High School before the start of his junior year, he had all but given up on his prep playing career.
It seemed as though the closest he’d get to a varsity basketball game would be while watching from the stands. That’s about the time reality set in for the 6-foot-7 post player as he began accounting for his own actions, or lack thereof.
There’s always been something about the uneasiness and embarrassment of others that makes the rest of us cringe with curiosity.
Such stories serve dual purposes in that they entertain on one hand and fascinate on the other, as though we can relate in some form or fashion. Or maybe we’re just intrigued by the kinds of far-fetched circumstances we’ve never had a chance to experience ourselves.
Blueprint offers up these types of stories to help quench such an appetite as he shares the most awkward moments from his life on the road in “What a Night,” a book about the worst shows of his music career.
Although Blueprint’s been known for different things at different times in his life, first as a computer programmer, and most notably a producer, emcee and musician, it’ll take some time before his work as an author of books reaches those aforementioned levels.
Just seven days after being born Faine was adopted by parents who provided stability for a lifetime, ensuring he’d never be shuffled between foster homes throughout his childhood.
After a four-year career as a student-athlete at Notre Dame, the 2003 NFL Draft pick (21st overall) embarked on a 10-year professional playing career. Today he helps kids aging out of the foster care system by giving them a chance to transition positively into adulthood at The Faine House, which opened its doors a little more than a year ago.
Faine joined the show Saturday morning to talk about The Faine House and his playing days at Seminole High School in Sanford, Fla., with the Notre Dame Fighting Irish, and in the National Football League while with the Cleveland Browns, New Orleans Saints, Tampa Bay Buccaneers and Cincinnati Bengals.
I took a road trip to the Fort Worth-Dallas area this past week. A few days before starting the journey I decided to buy an engagement ring and plan a proper way to propose to my girlfriend of many, many years.
That proposal took place in an end zone at Cowboys Stadium on the final day of our trip as our 2-year old son ran wild on the field. Our final day in the area proved much more rewarding than my first night in east Texas, which resulted in a hefty speeding ticket.
As if being a first-time parent wasn’t tough enough, my 22-month old son greeted me with a new surprise in the world of parenting last week while we sat on the recliner together to watch afternoon postseason baseball. I’m still not sure if it was the actual act of puking, or the clean-up that followed, that nearly made me sick to my own stomach.
The segment continues with talk about the pedestrian expectations of the Orlando Magic and the overwhelmingly huge payout for one Orlando City Soccer Club player.
The best part of last night’s ESPYs award show on ESPN came in the final moments when long-time anchor Stuart Scott accepted an award named in honor of former basketball coach Jim Valvano, who lost his battle with cancer in 1993.
Scott has been fighting the same battle over the past seven years. During a touching and inspiring speech last night he shared the most recent struggle he’s had with the disease over the previous week and what’s inspired him to continue pushing forward. It was a beautiful and seemingly deliberate soliloquy, one delivered in front of a national audience that will forever be the go-to clip of Scott long after he’s gone.
It mystifies me that with all the medical developments our world has made over the decades, that cancer continues to kick our ass the way it does. Here’s hoping the fight will one day be won.
My son has a very cool mom. On Mother’s Day we took her to St. Petersburg to see the Cleveland Indians play the Tampa Bay Rays. (Moms who love sports are keepers, kids.) We had great seats, right behind the home plate area along the first base side of the park at Tropicana Field.
The best decision we made was moving across the aisle to sit in a less crowded area, because in the bottom of the seventh the most amazing thing happened. Logan Forsythe, whom I admittedly know little about, entered the game as a pinch-hitter and fouled a pitch from Cleveland reliever Marc Rzepczynski in our direction. I stood and watched as the ball sailed over our heads and bounced off the siding of the second level.
My 16-month old son is a lot like his dad. Neither of us likes to waste our time in bed too early in the night.
Tonight he stayed up late and scribbled some lines on a piece of cardboard with a “Vietnam Blue” colored pencil. I had never before heard of this Vietnam version of blue before tonight, but it’s got a nice look to it.
It was interesting to watch him work the pencil without even realizing what all the lines were creating. Looking forward to seeing him add another color or two in the days ahead.
So far it looks like there’s a guy posing in a hat, suit and tie.
