It hasn't taken me long to figure out how hot it is outside here in central Oklahoma because I can't come close to keeping my house cool.

80 degrees with the A/C running full blast.

However, I can totally deal with it thanks to the good folks at Wal-Mart, via a company called Massey. They make 10-inch or so fans, and they're sold at Wally World for $8 each, meaning I bought two, meaning I have four fans (two big and two small) throughout the house.

Dude, for that price, I could buy five of them and blow this place out.

It's a tad warmer than I would like, but it's comfortable, really. Therein lies the difference between my disdain for winter and my willingness to put up with 107-degree heat. The house is comfortable enough, and I don't have to alter my attire to walk out the door.

When it's 29 degrees out, you have to put on a jacket, at least. Pain in the butt.

I won't sing the praises of Oklahoma's asphalt-melting conditions the past week though because it really is too hot to get out and do much. I'm not jogging in this crap. I'll pull a Jim Fixx quicker than you can say "arteries blocked."

However, I've noticed folks in Norman walking super late at night, like at 10:30 p.m. That's something great about this town, the confidence to get outside and be among the darkness, alone even, without fear of mugging, drive-bys or any of that nonsense.

Alas, I'd prefer 85 degrees during the day and 62 at night, but I'm not going to complain with 107 and 75.

I am the lizard man.

The thoughts and opinions expressed here are those only of the writer, not reflective of his employer, family, friends or probably himself.

That disclaimer should probably precede every Internet post from here on out.

For the University of Oklahoma's Josh Jarboe, failing to acknowledge the power of the World Wide Web means foregoing the chance to be a Sooner. But while Jarboe had already exhausted his one big chance from coach Bob Stoops, make no mistake: The Internet has struck again.

If you're from Oklahoma and have been living under a rock, the incoming freshman had already been caught trying to bring a gun onto campus back at high school in Georgia. Stoops gave Jarboe the benefit of the doubt until four days ago, when a video appeared on YouTube, showing Jarboe rapping about violence and guns and AKs and Atlanta.

First and foremost, I should be clear: Bob Stoops did the right thing.

All homerism aside though: Bob Stoops has always done the right thing when it comes to discipline at the University of Oklahoma.

Coach Stoops' record of laying the hammer down when need be and offering a second chance when available is immaculate. In 2001, Stoops took a chance on Lynn McGruder after the Tennessee Volunteer was charged with pot possession.

Two years later, McGruder and Mark Clayton saved a family along an Oklahoma highway after a wreck. According to Wikipedia, McGruder "received the Big 12 Sportsman of the Year Award in 2003 and was nominated for the Football Writers Association's Most Courageous Award."

Second chances are cool, and it's great when they work out. And it takes guts to give somebody a second chance.

Third chances, though, can be a fool's game.

Jarboe's rap was innocent enough per se. However, in combination with the trouble he had with guns back in Atlanta, a rap about guns and violence was tantamount to a recovering coke addict singing about his love of the white mistress online. Even if he wasn't "doing," it was evidence enough that a real lesson hadn't been learned.

Among Jarboe's lyrics:

"Shoot you in the head and you might be dead with a halo. So hold on, don't beg for your life. And hold on, don't ask please.”

It appears that the video was shot in a University of Oklahoma dorm area, and the Sports Animal's Al Eschbach says he has it on good word who posted the video. I suspect other sports personalities in central Oklahoma know as well.

Just a day before coach Stoops and the rest of the OU staff held its annual golf outing with the print, radio and television media, and Stoops was quoted as saying (initially) that he didn't see the big deal in some video being posted online.

My suggestion to my favorite coach is that some Web journos get invited next year. Most of us aren't message board-trolling sports geeks (not that there is anything wrong with that). Most of us aren't tech-heads (not that there is anything wrong with that). Most of us have journalism backgrounds with a deep knowledge of how innocuous blog posts and videos, for example, become monster viral sensations.

Not that there is anything wrong with that. I make no judgment here. It is what it is.

We can help you, and I intend to do that right here.

Heck, I think what I'm about to write could and would help every major college coach in any sport across the country, whether they don the crimson and cream of my beloved Sooners or the burnt orange of the University of Texas. Cornhuskers could pick a little something up from this, as could my friends in Stillwater.

The trick to ensuring that the Internet doesn't claim another is in understanding the medium's power, keeping control of all messages and scouting the terrain for anything that could cause problems.

One only has to look at pop culture to understand the Web's power. From the rise of Tay Zonday to the fall of Michael Richards (Kramer), what's posted to the Web becomes news at a much higher rate than you'd ever guess over a beer at Mr. Bill's.

From a college sports perspective, the Web is used primarily to hype athletes. Videos of Jarboe in action are all over YouTube. Based on what I've seen, he looked like a capable receiver, but I was never expecting the second-coming of Mark Clayton.

Furthermore, not to take away from my brethren in the newspaper, radio or television industries, but more people will read about the Oklahoma Sooners online than on any other medium. Fact. Unfortunately, the Web is also of a "wild west" mentality as it pertains to being able to separate fact from fiction.

Most of everything on the Web is fiction.

Nevertheless, Point 1 is to recognize and respect the power of the Web. At once, it's the best global promoter available for a local entity and its biggest source of migraine headaches.

The next part of this is pretty easy, actually: Controlling the message.

University athletes should not have MySpace or Facebook pages on their own. They should not have Twitter accounts, and they should not be posting videos to YouTube on their own time.

Don't get me wrong. It is against every fiber of my personal and professional existence to fear the Internet. Personally, I make it my policy to avoid things that would cause my employer, my family and my friends embarrassment or headaches.

I don't know that I've always succeeded, but I try.

However, college athletes are targets. And, no, they're not media targets. They're the targets of bloggers, message board posters, YouTube video channel owners, anonymous commenters -- all of it. If something comes up that is deemed to be worthy of public interest, it's possible and likely that a traditional media outlet would report on it.

But being in the spotlight, among the privileged as college athletes are, makes the Web a bumpy terrain. My recommendation is that for four years they forego any Web participation at a first-person level.

On the other hand, anywhere there is a camera is an opportunity to be featured online. Take Vince Young and his buddies at that club a few months ago -- sweaty, drunk and shirtless.

Nothing is wrong with that in and of itself. However, within the context of their responsibilities to a professional football organizations and the communities represented therein, it's a headache.

Advise athletes that whether they're on the court, field or at the store, a camera is likely to be rolling. Behave accordingly.

All of this so far is common sense, right? Well, what if I were to suggest that it would be a good idea for athletic departments to work with their superstars to build MySpace, Facebook and YouTube profiles. These media could not only offer a technology and media lesson for the student, they could also provide a business lesson in marketing and public relations.

For example, the primary problem with having a MySpace page, for the popular athlete, is in having MySpace "friends." What they do or say could get you in just as much trouble as anything you might do. What if Sam Bradford had a MySpace page, even set to private, on which he had accepted a friend who espoused support for some racist organization?

Look. One of the most valuable pieces of wisdom I ever got from my parents was in their practice of paying attention to who my friends were. If I were to spend the night somewhere, they would want to meet that kid. And his parents. And know a little something about them.

The Web is a billion times more vague and sticky in this regard, and I wouldn't blame any athlete for refusing most anybody as his or her MySpace friend. My point however is thus: Don't be afraid of the medium; learn it. Respect it. Manage it.

Point 2: Control the message.

My last suggestion (Point 3) is for athletic department administrators, and it comes courtesy of Comcast. The cable giant has been in the news recently because of its practice of scouring the Web for posts, messages and videos mentioning the company.

They don't do it to be creepy. They do it to manage their brand online and also to help customers who might be having issues with their service. Heck, one national news story I saw noted a twitter message sent out by a cable customer, who noted the problems she was having. Comcast contacted her and helped her.

Brilliant. Briliant. Many times over: Brilliant.

My suggestion is to hire an intern who does nothing but scour the Web for the names of players. Document what you find. Account for rumors. Look for videos. Most of all, be aware of what's out there.

Hey, 99.4 percent of everything found will be innocent enough.

What I'm suggesting is that athletic departments manage for that .6 percent. Unfortunately, my expertise limits me from suggesting what you'd do in any situation where you'd find something untoward. On the other hand, most Web journalists are quite knowledgable in how to find it, if it exists.

All this said, I make no judgment on Jarboe's video or his situation, only to say that in this part of the country, Bob Stoops' record for off-the-field decision making, honestly, is stellar. And, I know he and 75 percent of the rest of coaches and traditional media poo-poo the Web as being not credible and not worth their time.

Heck, 99.4 percent of the time, they're absolutely right!

But, I'm telling you: It's that .6 percent of the time you have to manage.

Don't just ignore it.

Something about the best-laid plans. I know there's a quote there somewhere.

Alas, I totally intended on attending my 20th high school reunion last weekend, so much so that I paid the money to reserve my spot. I had written a couple of blog posts referencing the event.

Long story short and without the drama, I got a chance to play a gig, a second one for me at Othello's here in Norman, and I can't regret that one little bit. My first show wasn't bad for a first show, but this one was better.

And, it looks like I'm getting a few more gigs throughout the fall. Like I've said to anybody who will listen, I'm a moron for not having pursued solo live gigs earlier. M-O-R-O-N.

No, I'm not the second-coming of Billy Joel or Elton John; however, we had a darned good time, and I'm going to take advantage of it. If your venue has a piano and a mic, I'm coming to play. So, just mark it down. I would play six nights a week if possible.

I would be lying if I didn't acknowledge feeling bad for missing the reunion, but it just wasn't even a hard choice for me.

However, whether or not I attempt to sing "I Kissed A Girl" for the humorous amusement of partiers again is a whole other story. I do have an idea about what I might do with that song. An interesting idea. Could be very humorous and interactive. My thought is that if there is ever somebody at one of my gigs who really, really, really wants to get up and sing, they can sing "I Kissed A Girl."

The other thing that came up Saturday night, a musician's issue I suppose, is whether or not to accept alcohol as a "tip" during a show. I like to have a great time, no doubt, but I take gigs and music and playing seriously, and a lot of the stuff I play is fairly sophisticated. It requires my faculties. And while three shots didn't faze me too much, I am pretty sure my personal limit to play effectively is three over the course of a gig. Max.

When I played with a band, it was never a big deal because I was just the keyboardist. Nobody was paying attention to me anyway.

If there are any other musicians out there, what's the best way to "kindly refuse" booze during a show? What's the etiquette out there? Basically, I just tried delaying taking the shots as long as I could without making the guy feel bad. He was having a good time, and I didn't care to insult him.

Ah, it's not a huge deal, and I don't know what other musicians do. However, I tend not to eat anything for at least three or four hours before playing, so three shots definitely puts a kick in my engine. However, the more I gig, the more I could see this being something I have to learn how to manage -- being cordial yet firm.

Last but not least, I didn't hydrate nearly well enough before the show and during the show. How do I know this? When I don't hydrate well enough and then play for 5-6 hours in a day, which I did on Saturday, the underneaths of my fingernails get super sore. During the gig. Bruised even.

On the other hand, three shots will make that pain go away right fast.

As soon as I know what nights I'm playing in September and October, I'll post them to the site and get the word out.

It's hard to believe given my youthful good looks, but my 20th high school reunion is coming up this next weekend in Henryetta, Okla.

Some folks aren't fond of high school reunions and make it a point never to attend them. However, I had a pretty good time growing up, and even my general misanthropic nature couldn't keep me away from this.

OK, I'm lying. I don't like social gatherings at all. Hate them. Don't like mingling or small-talk, and I really don't like talking about what I've been up to for the past week much less the past 20 years. My presumption is and always has been that nobody really cares what I've been up to.

But I am curious as to what other folks have been up to. I'm nosy like that.

I just wish that we could have reunions for junior highs and elementary schools. Now, those could be wicked fun.

Oh, me? I'm Ryan. It says it there on my name sticker.

Ryan who?

Ryan Welton

Uh, not ringing a bell

Well, I remember you, Tina! Just like it was yesterday when we were 6 in Mrs. Quinlan's class. Like that time you passed me that check-yes-or-no note.

Have you been stalking me?

We should also have reunions for our past jobs. Heck, those could be filled with tense conversation.

Hey, Ryan, good to see you!

Good to see you, too, Mitch! Have you been able to get work since the embezzlement conviction?

Uh ...

I told you I'm not good at small talk.

In honor of the event, I figured I'd spend the week looking back at pop culture from 1988 -- the music, the movies, the shows, everything. I might even detail what we used to do for fun before the Internet came along.

Heck, in Henryetta, we used to play baseball in the back yard, complete with improvised bases, bats and balls. We even used to use our cars to illuminate the "field."

We played massive amounts of basketball and playground football.

Video games. As in arcade video games. We didn't have Madden '08 back then.

Paper football tournaments. Those ruled.

Oh, we'd get into trouble a time or two. No doubt. However, I'm a firm believer that kids need to sow their oats. As adults, we just hope that they don't die or end up in prison because of a mistake. Most of us were pretty lucky in that regard.

Some of us were REALLY lucky.

Somewhere in the great city of Austin, James W. Conradt is really, really, really glad this week is over. It might just have been the worst of his life.

The 36-year-old University of Nebraska fan living in the land of Longhorns, Conradt usurped a template from newsok.com to perpetrate a hoax about University of Oklahoma quarterbacks Sam Bradford and Landry Jones for about an hour on a Cornhusker message board.

The hoax was that Bradford and Jones had been busted with several kilos of coke at a party. I did not read the fake story. As I noted before, it might have been up for an hour before officials with OPUBCO, The Oklahoman's parent company, issued cease-and-desist warnings.

Subsequently, the publishing company and the father of Landry Jones have threatened to sue the University of Texas IT worker. Kevin Jones was quoted as saying he had deep pockets and was going to "prosecute Conradt to the fullest extent of the law," as if he were a federal marshal.

And then on Friday, Oklahoman columnist Berry Tramel posted a video on newsok.tv aligning college sports message boards with porn sites, suggesting that anybody who participates on these boards (even those who do so passively) are at least partially culpable in any libel against the two OU players. This piece of editorializing came just a day or so after a Tramel blog post portrayed Conradt as pathetic and pitiful, asking OU fans to show some mercy on him.

I've got news for you.

We're all guilty on this one.

First and foremost, what Conradt put together was not satire, as a writer for The Lost Ogle suggested. A famous advertisement from the early 1980s suggesting that Jerry Falwell's mother had sex with animals, or whatever it was, in the family outhouse, was satire and was not deemed to be libelous because it comes off to a reasonable person as obviously untrue.

A false news story about two kids being busted with drugs, using the template of a major newspaper's Web site, is absolutely libelous. However, I think OU fans have jumped off the cliff on this one. And, I think Tramel is completely off base, too.

And I'm going to tell you why.

The difference between what Bob Barry Jr. referred to as the Wild, Wild West on The Sports Animal radio station Friday morning and what conservative bloggers have historically referred to as the MSM (Mainstream Media) is in the role of gatekeeper.

In Journalism 101, the gatekeeper is he who decides what makes the nightly news. The newspaper. The radio show. The Web site.

All of us who create content anywhere accessible to the public are gatekeepers of information. And part of that responsibility is in accepting accountability for anything posted. It means double-checking facts, and it means not relying on message board fodder for them.

Two Texas radio stations reported what Conradt posted to the Nebraska message board as news, and that's super, super embarrassing for them. It should be. First, the URL of the fake story gave itself away:

http://69.49.239.85/newsok/sports/sooners/In%20search%20of%20the%20next%20Sooner%20QB%20_%20NewsOK.com.htm

Did anybody bother to visit http://69.49.239.85/?

Did anybody question why the story wasn't on newsok.com?

Did anybody bother to check other sources, such as espn.com or cbssports.com or tulsaworld.com?

We as consumers of information have to take some responsibility for vetting it. I've got an aunt who likes to send me right-wing propaganda, e-mails suggesting that Barack Obama is not only a Muslim, but he's also a communist, a Satanist, and he will make Spanish the official language of our country while raising our taxes to 68 percent.

And I know liberals who do the same.

In this case, Conradt posted plausible information on a template showing the marks of a credible news Web site. However, the URL was so obviously fake that savvy Web surfers, particularly message board posters and participants, should have sniffed this out immediately.

Is Conradt guilty of copyright infringement? You bet. Is he guilty of libel? Technically, yes, although I can't imagine this actually did any damage to Bradford and Jones. I heard a colleague of mine say today that future employers or lenders might spot this info and deny Landry and Sam a job, and again I say: ridiculous.

The responsibility to be able to vet information falls on all of us, whether we're surfers or posters or employers or lenders. Conradt not only knew what he did was wrong, he rectified it and expressed deep remorse in an interview with The Oklahoman.

The University of Texas determined that its employee didn't post this hoax during company time, and I presume they did not decide to fire him. Nor should they have. Frankly, I hope Conradt might see this and understand that not all OU fans jumped off the deep end on this one. And I don't presume he's pathetic or pitiful either.

He made a mistake, and that's it. The world doesn't have to be so black and white.

However, this isn't cause to throw all message-board participants under the proverbial bus, either.

In his newsok.tv video, Tramel suggested that college sports Internet message boards had no more redeeming value on them than a porn site.

Hey, why attack porn? The Internet IS for porn!, I'm told. By puppets. I digress.

Sports Animal host Carey Murdock made the stretch to suggest that Tramel was comparing message-board enthusiasts to porn addicts, although I can see technically how the stretch came about. Murdock has made a name for himself locally via his Web work, from the birth of boomersooner.net to his work with rivals.com.

Being in the Web biz, Murdock should have known better though, particularly as it pertains to my argument that any Web savvy consumer would have been able to spot Conradt's post as a fake in five seconds. However, Murdock was still furious about this incident Friday morning.

The underlying problem here isn't some supposed libel or message boards or James Conradt or Berry Tramel.

It's anonymity.

My personal policy is that if I can't put my name to it, I don't do it. I don't have time nor the interest to read college sports message boards, and I certainly don't post to them. Because of the anonymity allowed by most of these sites, the discourse is often uncivil, and the information is virtually worthless.

Sorry, Carey.

On the other hand, Tramel's argument about message boards is disingenuous at best. One reader on The Lost Ogle, a site I've already mentioned and that I should note I enjoy daily, noted that consumers don't want to wait 24 hours to read about what happened five seconds ago.

Amen! Couldn't have said it better myself.

Newspaper types are uber defensive when it comes to the Web. Heck, most traditional media are. However, the folks who participate on message boards are just talking with their friends, gloating over wins, berating other schools, arguing, cutting each other down and doing a ton of stuff that, in my humble opinion, does nothing but issue negative energy into the universe.

The people I know who participate on OU and OSU message boards are terrific people, some of my best friends, outside of said boards. They are productive members of society. They go to church. They mow their yards. They pay their bills. They care for their kids. They are solid citizens.

However, the anonymous personae of these people on these and most all other message boards are unfunny, mean-spirited smack talkers who would never deign to behave that way in front of their wife or kids. Take away the anonymity on college sports message boards, and not only will civility increase, so will credibility.

There are drawbacks to forbidding anonymity, but I can't see those negatives as they might pertain to a sports site. On the other hand, the drawbacks TO anonymity are obvious and were played out this week in the form of the OU Internet hoax because there is no way James Conradt would have done what he did if he had been forced to associate his name with it in the first place.

On the other hand, message boards themselves aren't bad places nor are the people who participate on them. The anonymity they allow, however, encourages good people to behave at their collective worst.

I'll say it again though: If we're going to live in a free society, we have to get better about being able to analyze information and vet it for crap. In this case, that two radio stations reported Conradt's fake information as news is a complete journalistic embarrassment -- and that any regular Web surfer couldn't figure out in five seconds that Conradt's story was bogus is too.

So, blame Conradt. Blame the message board folks. But blame us as consumers, too. That anybody got duped by this is silly.

Mom thought perhaps I was just getting tired of visiting every few weeks, given that I'd complain about getting sick everytime I visited.

And I would.

Since moving back to Oklahoma in 2005, I've gotten sick every summer. A cold, if you will, not something like hepatitis or the measles. I'd call it my summer cold, and I get it each June although I periodically get it in the spring, too.

After three years, I realize this is no cold. It's hay fever. I've had mild bouts with it periodically over the past three years, but I have it right now worse than I ever have. Couldn't play a gig if I had to. I will struggle to go to work tomorrow insomuch that I will feel terrible in the morning -- stuffy, swollen and miserable with a dry mouth and sore throat, sore teeth and aching face.

I don't really have the urge to do anything but curl up and die. Well, it's not that bad, but it pretty much saps my will to exist, which I think might just be a nicer way of saying the former.

So, how do I know it's hay fever?

I get sick after mowing the lawn. Instantaneously.

It didn't used to be instantaneous. I'd mow the yard here in Norman or visit Mom across the state and mow hers, and I'd get symptoms the next day. I would get annoyed that somebody deigned to give ME a cold given that my life and to-dos and ambitions and routines are so much more important than everyone else's.

As it's gotten worse, the onset of the hay fever is more dramatic, pronounced and instant. I was sneezing like a fool 10 minutes after wrapping up my edging. I was ill by that night, and I'm likely now stuck with this crap for life. It's getting worse each year.

No, I might not have it chronically (please dear God in heaven, no), but each June in Oklahoma for the rest of my life, I'm going to have to deal with this. My initial strategy is to buy masks for mowing. If these don't work, I will have to give up mowing, and I strangely enough enjoy mowing and yard work generally.

I'm buying local, raw honey in each place where I work and live, particularly where I might do anything outside. The honey is full of allergens that are supposed to help sufferers of allergic rhinitis, such as myself, develop tolerance toward local pollens.

I'm going to avoid working out in the morning until later this summer, I suspect. Pollen gets produced at its highest levels between 5 and 10 a.m.

I'm going to experiment with some antihistamines this weekend if this crap isn't gone. They'll send me to la-la land, I suspect though. I'm already taking a generic version of Alavert, but I'll stop before taking the antihistamines. I'm leery about mixing anything medically.

I might get a neti pot.

I'm not really in the mood to do anything else until this crap is gone. So, the blog is taking a break, and I probably won't post anything relative to So You Think You Can Dance? tomorrow ... Just going to rest and take it easy.

In the interim, if you suffer from hay fever and have any words of wisdom, I'm all ears.

Has my absence from the blogosphere been noticed by anybody?

Some of you knew I had been practicing non-stop for a gig at Othello's of Norman on May 31. That gig has come and gone, generally a success I do believe. And, it looks like I'll be getting more dates there and pursuing other venues, too.

However, I don't believe I've told the back story.

This was my first solo gig of any sort ... ever.

Well, I should note that I've played weddings, and when I was in high school and college, I played a couple local events as just some guy in a corner playing a piano -- and playing it fairly poorly, I might add.

In fact, in those early gigs, some 20 years ago, I'd freestyle. Essentially, I knew maybe 10 songs and then, after that, I'd play chords and make up melodies on the fly. I can't imagine how boring those might have been for folks in the audience.

Right after college, I played piano for a buddy's wedding -- and that event took so long to get started that I again ran out of material, resorting to a church version of "Suicide is Painless," the theme to M*A*S*H.

Some might argue it to be an appropriate wedding song. However, for me, it was the result of having a big bag of nothing to offer.

While I lived in Dallas (1995-2005), I played with two bands and had a brief cabaret duo going with the best singer I've ever had the pleasure of working with. It was groovy and many good times were had, but I was in the background, not so much as offering a background vocal even though I could sing better than at least one or two of our available vocalists.

That's not saying much, but alas if I've been guilty of anything in my 37 years, it's of being sort of a chicken shit. No offense if the language offends, but it's the most a propos term for my artistic efforts to date.

And in preparing for this little gig at this small but uber cool lounge in Norman, Okla., I had worked myself up into a tizzy of psychotic nervousness. I practiced non-stop for more than a month. I could barely eat three hours before the show, and I sweated like Albert Brooks in "Broadcast News" up to five minutes before the gig started.

Now, I specifically sought out this gig to shake myself of all this, to give it a go. To be that "singer, songwriter" I've always envisoned myself to be.

The piano part of the equation didn't bug me a bit. Heck, I've played the piano for so long that I'm probably overly confident in that regard. But it was that bit of confidence that led me to e-mail Othello's manager.

And based on some YouTube links I sent her, she gave me a gig.

First, I have to note how nice that was of her. At first, I said I would just be doing piano jazz without vocals but then changed my mind as I became more fervent about the purpose of this effort.

What's crazy is that 15 minutes into this three and a half hour gig, I grew mega comfortable on stage, at the piano, behind the mic. Sure, it helped that all the bartenders and waiters there were so danged nice and that the atmosphere of Othello's is so relaxed.

Adjacent to an Italian restaurant and a patio full of Saturday night revelers, Othello's has always been one of Norman's top hangouts. In fact, there are only a couple venues here with as rich a history.

(Editor's Note: My friends came out to the gig, and I was promptly informed that Scott -- their waiter for the evening -- is pretty much the best waiter they've ever had. No lie.)

Now, I'm not going to lie. For a first gig, I did pretty darned well, but there is a ton of room for improvement. Learn more songs. Read the crowd better. Get serious about basic vocal technique. However, I did not embarrass myself, and that was the win in and of itself.

In fact, I made an extra $26 in tips. Not too shabby. Got one when I played "Girl From Ipanema" and another when I played and sang Coldplay's "Clocks." That particular tip probably made my evening because while I am pretty good with the jazz, I want to branch out into more pop, adult contemporary and original music.

The biggest response I got was when I played an original called "Dear OG&E," my ode to the fine electric company whose services I was without in December 2007 due to Oklahoma's hellish ice storm. That was mega gratifying as well.

But it's just a start. I'm told I'll get some spots on the Othello's calendar for later in the summer and beyond, and I plan to pursue other playing opportunities.

The nerves are gone, and strangely enough, I don't envision myself pursuing anything with a singer or group at this point. I'm going to hit this hard on my own behalf, taking the knocks as I go and growing in the process.

Then again, it's another dish on my plate, and I have every intention still of gearing up hard and heavy for a summer's worth or great (er, bad?) television reviews and commentary. The blog will live!

Thanks to my friends who came out, I have a video clip of the show, a couple of highlights, if you will. These were not my best songs, by a mile, but for the next show, I hope to set up a tripod and camera to get the whole thing on DVD. But it's a good sampling of what I did last Saturday night and, hopefully, for years to come.

We're nearly in the throes of the summer TV season, and I'm expecting to cover at least three shows: So You Think You Can Dance, Nashville Star and Big Brother. Heck, one of those has already started, and I'm behind the proverbial 8-ball.

However, there's a reason for the recent absence.

For the first time in three years, I'm embarking on a night of live music. And, for the first time ever, it will be me alone.

*** This Saturday from 6:30 to 10 p.m. at Othello's in Norman on Campus Corner. ***

I've played with bands. I've played some jazz quartets, a trio and even a cabaret duo. But this is just me, and you can expect a ton of standards and jazz classics as well as a few pop tunes and some originals. It'll be kind of a mix between dinner club music and a piano bar show.

I'd be lying to you if I didn't acknowledge some anxiety about the whole thing, which could lead to even more entertainment. Imagine if I pass out at the piano. Or keel over from a stroke during a song. Seriously, you may see something you've never seen before.

But hopefully it's merely the beginning of me playing live across central Oklahoma way more often than once every three years. Feel free to drop by anytime, but be sure to tell the folks at the bar what a punk, er, talent I am.

Blogs will resume next week. Ciao.

Oklahoma Sooners' football legend Jack Mildren died Thursday of stomach and liver cancer. He was 58, and by every, single account, Mildren was a terrific human being.

It's not one of those passings in which people are kind in public but telling stories in private. No, this guy was by 100 percent of accounts good people.

Yet every diehard Sooners fan and, for that matter, Oklahoman over 35 knows that. Those of us that old at least remember Jack's political career, enough that we knew of him as a public figure beyond the gridiron.

However, this post isn't a tribute to the man. Many people infinitely brighter than I have done that. No, this is a post to every Sooners fan under 35 who might not understand his importance to Oklahoma football, who might not understand why he is revered. Heck, many of the most savvy among us are 25 and younger, and perhaps you don't even know who Mildren was.

That's fine. I'm going to explain it for the youngins and for those who might not even be fans of Oklahoma football.

OU has had three great eras of football: The Bud Wilkinson era, the Barry Switzer era and the current regime under Bob Stoops. Yes, each coach played a big role in making the Sooners great, but the Switzer years in particular were made great even before he took the helm in 1973.

Switz was a coordinator under Chuck Fairbanks, a moderately successful coach of the late 1960s and early 1970s. Think of him like Gary Gibbs. Good but not up to the standards of The Monster. And, if you're not familiar with the term The Monster, you're either really young or not an OU fan at all.

Alas, Chuck's teams weren't faring all that great, generally, even with a recruit from Abilene, Texas, who was supposed to be an all-everything for the Sooners. That recruit would be Jack Mildren, who was the Jason White of his day.

Not the White with hobbled knees. No, think back to Jason before his injuries, when he could run. The Jason White who played in his first OU-Texas game in 2001.

In 1969, however, Mildren was pretty much relegated to handing the ball off to eventual Heisman winner Steve Owens, and while everybody back in the day was totally stoked about Owens winning the big award, they weren't so fond of the 6-4 record (?) that accompanied it.

In 1970, the Sooners were off to another crappy start, and by all accounts, it really looked like Fairbanks would eventually lose his job. Anyway, Chuck and Barry (coordinator Barry) decided to install what they called the Y formation.

The Y formation would later be called the "wishbone," and it was first implemented (I think) by Texas. If they didn't install it first, they sure as heck were the first school to have success with it -- and in the OU-Texas matchup that year, the Longhorns killed us and our new offense, 41-9.

However, Mildren proved to be the perfect QB for this offense. Truth is, the guy was a hell of a passer, and if you've ever seen tape of the 1971 game against Nebraska (usually referred to as the Game of the Century), you'd know that it was Mildren's arm that gave us a chance to win.

I could be way off base here given that I never saw Mildren play, given that I was born in his junior year at OU, but everything I have read and heard about the guy indicates he was very much like Jason White. To be honest, I can't imagine Mildren had a better arm, but in terms of being a double-threat, running and passing, before White's injuries, they couldn't have been more alike.

Relative to success though, what Mildren did to lead a new offense and bring success to OU, success that would last for two decades, by the way, is not unlike what Josh Heupel did when he came to Norman in 1999.

Even though Stoops' offense has become pretty stale in my estimation, do recall that coordinator Mike Leach installed the spread nine years ago. It was wide open. It was crazy. And Heupel was the perfect player to run it.

Thirty-eight years ago, Mildren was that guy. And his success brought OU years and years of wishbone dominance. You've heard of transformational leaders in business single-handedly bringing about positive change? Well, Mildren's ability to adapt to a new offense not only resulted in Oklahoma keeping the wishbone, it led to Barry Switzer getting a head coaching gig and three national titles.

So, while you heard tributes Friday about what a great man Mildren was and what an awesome player he was for the crimson and cream, thinking all the time that he was merely a player your dad or grandpa revered and that his relevance to Oklahoma football doesn't compare to that of signal callers like Heupel and White, you should understand this:

Mildren was loved by Oklahomans for being a great man in real life, but he is adored by Sooners fans worldwide because he was a bad ass on the field. Think of it this way: Mildren played in the NFL. As a defensive back. That's the kind of athlete he was.

That he was able to adapt to a brand new offense and be so successful with it in the middle of his OU career and then play a completely different type of position in the NFL is not only a testament to his athletic ability but also his smarts and competitive nature.

Love Heupel and White, but did either guy go play DB for the Colts? (Editor's Note: For the record, Ryan thinks Josh Heupel is the greatest human being ever to don an OU jersey, possibly ever to walk foot on Oklahoma soil. Inside joke, but more inside than joke.)

Bottom line: Oklahoma had two decades of success and won three national titles because Mildren was so good for two seasons leading a new, experimental offense at OU.

Without Mildren, there probably would have been no Barry Switzer as head coach.

And without Barry, The Monster would not have grown into what it was and is. Heck, without the success that Barry had from 1973-88, our tradition would be something steeped in 1950s nostalgia films.

Seriously, Jack Mildren the football player was a big, big deal.

The Oklahoma Sooners' second-straight win over Texas kicks off at 11 a.m. on Oct. 11, ABC announced today.

First, doesn't it seem a bit odd that kickoff times have already been announced for a game that could have a major say in who plays for a national title this season? Usually, kickoff times are announced about two weeks out.

Second, I hate, despise, loathe the 11 a.m. kickoff. I do not like celebrating touchdowns, interceptions and Longhorn destruction in my skivvies.

Third, I typically save the fun-in-skivvies for hours after the ball game, after I've had my third soda pop and am wearing lamp shades for head gear.

And there we were, Toad and I, marveling over the perverted sadness that was the flipper midget.

It was probably 2003 or thereabouts, and the city of Denton outsourced its historic Fry Street Fair, typically held the third weekend of each April, to the city of Dallas and specifically to Deep Ellum.

Sacrilege.

While Toad and I enjoy nothing more than imbibing to the sound of good rock and roll, neither of us has ever been particularly fond of what I fondly call the "explosive diarrhea" music scene, comprised of bands playing as loudly as possible for the sole purpose of making as much noise as possible.

I had pre-advertised Fry Street to him as this collection of eccentricity, part indie, part jazz, the very best of what the University of North Texas has to offer the musical world. My first trip to Denton back in 1996, I saw street musicians -- one by one -- over the course of an hour walk in and out, interchangeably, to form this terrific jazz-slash-dixieland-slash-funk group.

Depending on who walked in and out at the time.

Heck, the first time in Denton was like a seminal experience typically reserved for high schoolers. By that time, I was 26 and already awash in the professional world. But by 2 a.m., I was the object of T-back's affection.

T-back was likely her professional name, if you catch my drift. While I can think of many creative possibilities for that inference, I would only suggest that T-back liked to have a good time and that perhaps, on this early Saturday morning, she had had too much of one.

What had been an ordinary evening in a foreign town for my buddy Brian and I became startlingly interesting when T-back mistook me for her boyfriend. Or perhaps husband. Cohabitant. Study buddy. Her sponsor.

She ran over to my table at a bar called Cool Beans and literally started making out with me on the spot. And if it weren't for the fact that I'm a germaphobe, I might have let her continue. I'm game. But there was also the scene outside Cool Beans only 30 minutes before this when I am pretty sure I saw her expel dinner into a trash can.

Alas, she mentioned an after-party, not so much to invite Brian and me but to make it known to people around her that drinking would continue well into the wee morning hours and that all we'd need to do is bring it.

So, the B boy and I brought it.

We bought a case of white-trash domestic and waltzed into the first house with music blaring, presuming ourselves welcome. Awkwardly enough, we walked in right about the time the police arrived.

The cops were concerned about the noise, which I found odd considering there were multiple homes within the college district in Denton where bands were playing on porches. At 3 a.m. nonetheless.

My concern was that whoever owned this house would think the black and whites were our doing. That's where beer comes into play. We brought it and intended to share it, this act of giving being the primary college-town manuever of friendship.

Turned out the home dwellers were three co-eds, two of which were without boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands or life partners. The third was particularly proud of her boyfriend's genitalia, which she showed off throughout the night, unsolicited.

Hell, I'm not sure if he was even aware of it.

God love Denton.

However, Brian and I managed to strike up a conversation with the two singles, talking them up until 6 a.m. before deciding we really, really, really needed to get back home. I do believe we even got phone numbers, probably the product of us having real-world jobs, which surely made us viable procreative commodities.

But it was the getting of the phone number thing that surely made us both want, make that insist, on returning the next night for the second day of the fair.

That is if we could ever freaking make it home.

From Denton, we ended up in Bedford and then in Fair Park, east of downtown Dallas, and then in the Cotton Bowl parking lot as sunrise hit.

Dude, that's not the place to be at sunrise.

My excuse was that I was completely new to the Dallas area. I'm not sure what his was.

But we made it home to Richardson -- and for those of you who know DFW, you can surely appreciate how circuitous this path was, from Denton to Bedford to downtown Dallas to Richardson. We could have just driven to El Paso, on to San Antonio and back up through Corsicana.

Slumber was pleasant but brief, for me at least. Once the sun's up, I have a hard time trying to initiate anything that could result in eight full hours of sleep. Besides, I was really excited about getting back to Denton, which was always the closest thing to Norman available in the Metroplex.

***

Given that Toad is a happily married man, we didn't prowl for women when Fry Street came to Dallas in 2003. We're much more obnoxious than that; we talked about them as they passed by. Hell, we talked about everybody. Sat atop a joint called The Bone, where I played gigs many a time, people-watching for hours.

Unfortunately, the music just blew chunks. The Dallas version of Fry Street was more awash in pop-metal acts and rock poseurs. Dishwalla was a headliner, and I think Bowling For Soup (a band I do like) was there, so I'm told. I don't actually remember seeing them.

However, the highlight of the entire evening was witnessing a midget who wore flippers lying on his back upon a skateboard. I'm not sure that my long-term memory is that awesome, but I think his M.O. was to skate around looking up women's skirts.

OK, maybe the poor li'l fellow really needed the skateboard to get around. Maybe I'm crass.

Or maybe the flipper midget simply had quite the ruse working.

***

And that brings us to this weekend, the first-ever Norman Music Festival. It runs Saturday-only from noon until 11 p.m., and its headliners include The Polyphonic Spree and a reunited Chainsaw Kittens.

The scene, musically, at least on the main stage seems to be much more indie than what could be found at Fry Street, which I hope means an interesting crowd. Fry Street was always a scene.

However, to the festival's credit, they have blues artists and instrumentalists, including one of my neighbors, the uber-talented Ivan Pena, a gypsy-jazz guitarist.

My schedule on Saturday is such that I might not get to attend but the last six hours or so of the event. However, a few of the bands I'm looking forward to the most include those Chainsaw Kittens, whose place in Norman's rock history is firmly cemented.

According to wikipedia, Tyson Meade also led a band called Defenestration, which means one thing and one thing only to OU alums.

He must have taken a history course with Dr. James Goldsmith.

Defenestration is the act of throwing somebody out of a window, typically an act of political violence. Alas, Goldsmith was fond of it, and while I presume Tyson might merely be a well-read individual, Dr. Goldsmith was super fond about talking about defenestration.

I've already mentioned the Spree in another post, I do believe, so I'll skip onward to a couple of the other interesting bands. There's British Sea Power, which has kind of an Euro-pop sound a la The Cure or any of a number of other 1980s bands.

There's the general weirdness of Austin's own The Octopus Project, an instrumental band whose schtick it is for each bandmember to periodically switch instruments.

Norman's own Evangelicals will be playing as will Norman staple Camille Harp, but perhaps the act I'm most interested in seeing hails from Stillwater.

They're called Colourmusic, the product of a friendship between OSU students several years ago. The group comes with the recommendation of The Flaming Lips, and this group's schtick is to have a different theme for each show.

According to the encyclopedia of our generation, wikipedia, they might have family night, where each band member role plays as a father, mother or child, complete with dress wearing or whatever might be required.

However, of all the bands I listened to on YouTube, it was their music, their style I liked the best. Very intriguing, but given their 3 p.m. start, I'm doubting I'll get to see them.

That's OK. In the long run, for me, it's less about a weelend of great music and more about the scene, anyway.

Heck, maybe the flipper midget will make the trip.

Oklahoma is looking for an official rock-n-roll song, a state rock tune. By commission of the Oklahoma Historical Society, lawmakers today approved a proposal that calls for the society to take nominations and then put the songs up to a vote of the people.

There will be a process by which an approved panel would narrow the list down to 10 finalists. We the people would vote on it from Sept. 1 through Nov. 15, and it would then be put forth to the Legislature in 2009.

The official Oklahoma rock song.

What shall it be? A lot of the hip, alternative crowd would point to the Flaming Lips, and to that, I say a hearty "right on," but for me, they're just not popular enough. Not mainstream enough. Not even rock enough.

I absolutely think the state rock song of Oklahoma should be a tune recognizable by at least 60 percent of the populus. However, upon initial research, I could not really find much in the way of a tie between Oklahoma and rock-n-roll.

Not an obvious one. Our ties are with country music, mostly, although I suppose we could nominate Chris Gaines, the rock alter ego to Garth Brooks. I kid. I still say that was the best album Garth ever did.

However, there is a duo whose ties to both Oklahoma and to the roots of rock-n-roll are so pure that I think immediately to them when I think of rock-n-roll's history in the Sooner State.

That's right. I think of Hoyt Axton and his momma, Mae Boren Axton. And while I'm sure the OHS will get plenty of terrific nominations, I already have my three -- all with a tie to the Axton family tree and, therefore, to Oklahoma.

No. 3: "Joy To The World" -- Three Dog Night

Penned by Hoyt Axton, this has the temperment of a song I think most Oklahomans could get behind. It's happy. It's fun. It's definitely rock, and Oklahomans have been singing this at karaoke bars for the past 20 years.

No. 2: "Heartbreak Hotel" -- Elvis

Written by Hoyt's mother, this tune skyrocketed Elvis Presley to fame. I'm not sure the downer sentiment will fly with voters, the whole bluesy heartbreak vibe, but there is a major historical tie between Oklahoma and this song.

No. 1: "Never Been To Spain" -- Three Dog Night

First, this is technically a country song. However, Three Dog Night is a classic rock band, with a bit of West Coast country before the Eagles made that sound come alive.

However, read along with the words. I can only choose to interpret what Hoyt might have meant when he wrote, Well, I never been to heaven ... but I been to Oklahoma, and it's one of my favorite lyrics in all of music.

If it were totally up to me, this would be the official Oklahoma rock song:

Now, there is no rule that the rock song has to have anything to do with Oklahoma or have any tie to the state, but my hunch is that the historical society would prefer if the song had some element about it related to our state.

With that said, is there somebody obvious I'm missing? Besides Hanson and All-American Rejects? On a more serious note, how about Leon Russell or Elvin Bishop?

I could vote for Tight Rope ...

Mark your calendars for Sept. 13, Sooners fans. Oklahoma's trip to Seattle, Wash., to face the Washington Huskies just became significantly more interesting.

The NBA approved the relocation of the Seattle Sonics to Oklahoma City, pending the resolution of litigation between team owner and fellow Oklahoman Clay Bennett, the city of Seattle, Sonics' season-ticket holders and former club owner and coffee entrepreneur, Howard Schultz.

Schultz is suing Bennett with the hope of finding a judge loosy-goosy enough to rescind a sale that happened two years ago. Even the most optimistic of lawyers-who-happen-to-double-as-Sonics-fans say that Schultz' burden of proof is staggering and that he stands virtually no chance of winning.

Season-ticket holders have filed a class-action lawsuit against Bennett's LLC on the premise that they bought tickets under the assumption that the team would be in Seattle permanently. And the city of Seattle, spearheaded by Mayor Greg Nickels, is suing to enforce the lease at Key Arena -- not for the purpose of anything but to buy time in hopes of annoying Bennett to the point of giving up.

***

On Thursday afternoon, I got a call at work from a young woman named Monica Guzman, and she identified herself as being with the Seattle Post-Intelligencer. She didn't say whether she was its circulation manager, janitor or what; however, I later learned she is the paper's online reporter, the primary content manager, if you will, for what seattlepi.com calls The Big Blog

Very nice newspaper site blog, by the way, and Guzman's work is stellar. I definitely checked her out online later on. Graduated from Bowdoin College, does on-air reports for KOMO and can even sing a pretty mean version of "Here Comes The Rain Again," by the Eurythmics.

Her line of questioning pertained to koco.com's sports section, where we list "Sonics" as a local team and had since Bennett bought the team. The local team section, and it definitely could be called something else, also includes teams from Texas and Missouri with absolutely no affiliation to the Sooner State other than interest.

I was sure to be polite and clear about our intentions, which were to make information available in the most logical place possible for the purpose of usability and not to insult anybody in the Emerald City.

And that's the truth, really.

What I was sure not to say was, "What do you care? Your basketball team IS coming to Oklahoma as sure as the sun will rise tomorrow."

However, in the back of mind, I absolutely thought it.

And that's the truth, really.

My prediction is that litigation will never come to pass, except perhaps on the behalf of ticket owners. The city of Seattle cannot possibly be so inept as to ensure the NBA never returns there on account of pride and hurt feelings.

Even fiscally, the city of Seattle has to reorder its priorities for the purpose of ensuring the most advantageous outcome. If the city is in fact guilty of scheming to "bleed the Oklahomans" through a course of litigation, we then move beyond the civil to the potentially criminal. Extortion is a crime.

And it's this pattern of ineptitude with which NBA and its commissioner David Stern are so darned frustrated. The association told them long ago that Key Arena was not suitable as-is, not so much because of the quality of the infrastructure but moreso because of its "footprint," which I do believe means its physical size and capacity to hold suites and offices and things that generate revenue.

During a news conference on Friday, Stern was quick to note that he wasn't an expert with regard to the exact nature of Key Arena's unworthiness, only to remind reporters that the NBA had been through this with the city enough to make the exercise of even talking about mind-numbingly frustrating.

However, I'm no expert as to arena footprints, either. What I do know is that one cordial Seattle fan wrote me to say that the fans in Seattle absolutely love Key Arena. While he didn't spell it out this way, I suspect he was suggesting that its charm, its location made it a fan favorite.

From a business perspective, I'm not sure what that has to do with anything -- what the fans think of the arena. It's irrelevant.

What happened during the early part of the 2000s and most certainly once Clay took the team over in 2006 was that the city of Seattle and the state Legislature in Olympia, Wash., could never get it together to the point that funds could be approved and allocated by deadline toward an arena, whether it be an acceptable-to-all-parties renovation to Key or a new stadium out of town, like in Renton, Wash.

The key here is that the NBA and Bennett gave everybody a deadline, a deadline imposed after Schultz sold the team on the basis of his resignation from having to deal with a city and state government that could never come together for a plan that meshed with the will of the people with regard to an arena.

That's right, the will of the people.

Sonics fans have a rich history in Seattle, 41 years worth. However, not everybody in that metro area is a giant basketball junkie, nor are they supportive of mass public funding for sports properties -- particularly in the face of new baseball and football locales, built on taxpayer dimes.

Complicated, right?

To the outsider who reads espn.com this afternoon to find out the Sonics got the OK to move and who knows nothing about the history of this process and with the NBA's frustration with Seattle, they immediately think: "Carpetbagger! Bennett's stealing this team and moving them to Oklahoma! How dare he rob the 12th largest market in the country of its precious basketball team!"

But to the insider, the average Washington resident who had the opportunity to lobby his or her lawmaker about this, who had the chance to do what it takes to ensure the Sonics would stay, minds were made up not on Friday but long ago.

Seattle said goodbye to the Sonics even before Bennett bought the team by indirect but absolute will of the people.

To litigate now, to make proposals now is tantamount to attempting to inbound the ball after the clock hits :00 for one last shot. All the e-mails in the world from club executives don't make up for the years of paperwork and evidence on behalf of the team and the NBA relative to their good-faith efforts to keep the team there.

Alas, my prediction is that somebody with good sense in Washington will sit down with Clay and workout an appropriate buyout that not only allows him to get out of the Key Arena lease and move to Oklahoma City but also allows the city of Seattle save face with the possibility of getting another team someday.

***

However, the reporter's call to me on Thursday made me realize something very integral to this story. Nobody in Washington had been paying attention to this story, to the dilemma of its basketball team, to the very real possibility of the Sonics bolting for a smaller market.

The NBA has been thriving in smaller markets for many, many years, the one professional league to excel at developing the untapped, one-team market. Take the San Antonio Spurs, for example. Or the Utah Jazz. Even the Portland Trail Blazers. The Orlando Magic.

The response to the story and even, perhaps, the way her story idea came about also caused me to realize that Seattlites and Washingtonians, perhaps, have come to take the impending departure of its team very personally.

They blame Clay Bennett, personally, but oddly enough don't reserve much disdain for government leaders there. I'm pretty sure they still don't care for Schultz, even in light of his 11th-hour lawsuit. However, they also blame Oklahoma City and Oklahoma.

In the past 48 hours, we've been called Dust Bowlers (echoed by Dallas Mavericks' owner Mark Cuban), hicks, rednecks and worse. One e-mailer contacted us today to suggest we take the dip out of our mouths and get out of our trailer homes long enough to &%$^# ourselves.

They don't want to know about Oklahoma City's local leaders working with state leaders, who both worked with the community to put forth a plan to bring a team, any team, to OKC. They don't want to acknowledge business leaders, sports leaders and the city of Tulsa for stepping up to the plate in partnership roles when it came time to wow the NBA.

And make no mistake: Oklahoma City didn't merely do well enough to convince team owners on that relocation sub-committee that our market (OKC and Tulsa combined) would be able to handle an NBA franchise, we wowed them.

For those of you who don't know, Oklahoma City is a future major hub in the Southwestern part of the United States, what I'd call the Phoenix of the region. In 1970, Phoenix was Oklahoma City, and now it's a Top 5, Top 6 American city in terms of population.

First, our economy is booming, and it's not just about oil. It's about energy and aviation and bio-technology. The reason why is simple: Our cost-of-living is low. Our property costs are low. And our current leadership, at both the city and state level, really have it together.

Furthermore, Oklahomans have a ton of disposable income for these very same cost-of-living reasons, and we just happen to be sports nuts. When the Hornets were in Oklahoma City for those two years post-Hurricane Katrina, the Ford Center was packed.

***

So, what does this have to do with the Sept. 13 Washington-OU game? That will be the first chance for the city of Seattle to collectively take out its frustration on the entire state of Oklahoma. And don't think for a second that they don't view this situation as Seattle vs. Oklahoma City and, in fact, the entire state of Oklahoma.

We're not sure why. All the city did was do what the NBA asked it to do, and all we Oklahomans did was do what city and state leaders asked us to do: Vote our conscience.

Did we want an NBA team? Vote yes for X.

However, the tens of thousands of fans in Husky Stadium on Sept. 13 will be out for blood, and it's a mood that will not be lost on Washington's media or, more important, its coaches and players. It will be their one and only shot for revenge.

Because all this talk about litigation and rescinding sales and "bleeding the Oklahomans" will soon give way to diplomacy, negotiation and resignation on the part of city and state leaders, looking to save face and to get the best financial buyout possible.

That leaves Sept. 13. And with all the high hopes OU has for a great football season this year, Bob Stoops and company need to be fully aware of the unique time-bomb that awaits them.

For those of you who don't have time to read about the OU spring game in depth, I'll give you the short version: Defense was terrific, but who knows what that means?

Dominique Franks, Jonathan Nelson and Frank Alexander each returned oskies for scores. Of course, in a game where the OU defense plays the OU offense, the D has somewhat of an advantage given how well they know the O.

However, the funniest stat of the game was that the one touchdown the offense did score was from a play called by a fan. Shae Farmer won an auction to get the honor, and the play he called resulted in a 51-yard touchdown pass to Jermaine Gresham.

I didn't see the play, so I'm not sure if it was a deep out, a short pass that resulted in a long run, a trick play or what. However, the fact that it was a fan's call that resulted in the game's only offensive touchdown gives at least a little credence to the notion that we fans aren't total idiots.

I've always been of the opinion that play-calling is more of an art than a science. For the Sooners though, there are a few elements of the offense that should produce some scientific truths.

• OU has to throw to Gresham. Three balls a game ain't going to do it.


• OU needs to wear DeMarco Murray out. Runs, short passes, deep outs, kickoff returns. Everything. We're doing something wrong if Murray isn't a serious Heisman candidate this year.


• OU should trick up its playbook to the extent that Gresham and Murray get the ball in unconventional sets. End-arounds. Murray lined up at quarterback.

And it's the last point that brings me back to the fan who called this play. I don't know whether he was a 12-year-old kid or a 54-year-old accountant. However, I truly believe OU should hold a video game contest among fans to find the best PlayStation college football player in the state.

Find the best player in the country, if possible.

And then hire him as a consultant to the offensive coordinator. I'm deadly serious about this. Having worked in the information technology industry for more than a decade, I've seen how video games have become wonderful tools for instruction at major companies.

Video games have been used to teach employees about company policy, about processes -- and they have also been used to provoke conversation and ideas regarding the overall business. And in this way, I truly believe OU could innovate by utilizing commercially available video games to improve its offense.

Heck, if nothing else, maybe this Farmer cat has a future in college football. Play calling isn't as easy as he made it, but play calling is also not as difficult, I believe, as coaches would like you to believe.

It's all about creativity, diversion and keeping a defense guessing. Like I said before, it's way more art than science.

If you'll recall the crazy time that was the Mike Gundy rant, back in September, you'll recall I had written a pretty scathing piece only to remove it. There's some conflict of interest there when the story is hot and heavy and you work for a major media organization, which I do.

But you'll recall that my take was that Gundy's rant was embarrassing and that Jenni Carlson's piece in The Oklahoman had some major holes. However, nobody had really considered that the entire situation -- the column, the rant -- all centered around a 22-year-old kid, Bobby Reid.

And if you don't read anything else today, you have to check out Tom Friend's piece on espn.com about Reid.

It's a massive indictment on Gundy and the OSU program. This piece will be the talk of Oklahoma sports radio on Monday.

What we never knew all this time is that Bobby Reid himself was put out by the very rant that was supposedly defending him. He was offended.

Reid has transferred to Texas Southern University in Houston, and the article paints him as a good kid with a depression issue, but it paints Gundy as a thoughtless, hyperactive jock. Not my opinion, just how the article painted the picture. Reid's family believes there is a good possibility that Gundy or one of his assistants leaked information to Carlson for the story, that in fact his rant was fake.

I doubt there was any second shooter at the grassy knoll, but his transfer and this situation will linger in Stillwater for as long as Mike Gundy is coach there. I don't want to suggest that this year might be his last; however, columns like this one on espn.com make me think he'll be on pretty thin ice in 2008.

There is some basis for this. I was told by an extremely reliable source (Well, it's somebody who has an in: Take it for what you will.) as early as after the Troy game last year that T. Boone Pickens had made it known that the university needed to start looking beyond Gundy, that there were efforts under way to have him replaced, possibly mid-season.

The coach and his team though ended the season on a high note and a bowl win, and probably most important for Gundy, his rant after the Texas Tech game gave him this cultish popularity across the Sooner State. Even if Mike Holder and Pickens wanted to remove Gundy, they weren't going to be able to after that YouTube moment.

You think Sean Sutton and the OSU basketball coaching situation was drama this year? Just watch what happens if the Pokes drop what should be an easy win at the start of football season.

Gundy might have to pull out an "I'm a man. I'm 41 ..." moment.

Bill Self decided to stay at Kansas.

Not a big shocker, but you have to applaud Oklahoma State for going after the best. KU's athletic director, Lew Perkins, noted how professional the Pokes were about the whole affair, and Self totally left the possibility of coaching OSU open ... down the road.

Just not now.

If it were my job to find a new coach, I'd go hard and heavy after Bruce Pearl. He coaches an exciting brand of basketball, and he wouldn't have to change the color of his sport coat.

Tennessee is a great school, but it's a football school. Pearl could be the man in Stillwater. But if Pearl weren't interested -- and given the megabucks he could get in north-central Oklahoma, I think he'd be crazy not to listen -- I'd go hard and heavy after Drake's Keno Davis.

Davis is not only the son of a coaching legend, he's also a sharp, young, hip sort of guy who happened to work the unthinkable at Drake. He took his team to the NCAA tourney for the first time since 1971.

***

For those of you who thought the trek from Seattle to Oklahoma City would be smooth sailing from here on out, think again. Today, it was revealed in subpoenaed e-mails that Clay Bennett communicated his intention as early as 2007 to move the NBA's Sonics from the Emerald City to OKC.

Considering Bennett had vowed to commissioner David Stern that his intention to stay in Seattle was genuine, if an arena deal could be reached in time, this could be seen as a major, major breach of trust. Bennett could be slapped with a hefty fine or worse: Stern could sway the Board of Governors to vote against the team's relocation.

David Stern is the most powerful commissioner in sports. You do not cross this man. He is not vengeful, though. I'm not saying that; however, he is what I would call super-righteous.

***

The one NBA owner who has already vowed to vote against the Sonics' relocation is Dallas' Mark Cuban. He went so far as to say that Oklahoma City's inclusion in a Western Conference division would create a Dust Bowl division.

Incredibly insulting from the owner of a team most Oklahomans have rooted for the past 28 years. However, those days are over for me. I'll root for the Hornets, the Rockets or whoever is playing the Mavs. For a billionaire to be so brilliant and thoughtless at the same time is probably not the biggest shock in the world.

***

Malcolm Kelly was one of several University of Oklahoma football players who had terrible NFL pro-day outings in Norman this week. Kelly's 40-yard-dash time will likely push him into the late part of the first round of this year's draft or worse.

Kelly might find himself taken in the third or fourth round.

The contention is that is 4.68 time is not fast enough to expect he would be able to create separation in the NFL. Given Kelly's ability to disappear against great teams while he played for the Sooners, perhaps the problem all along wasn't play-calling or the quarterback.

Perhaps Malcolm just wasn't as talented as he seemed, the type of player who could feast against Middle Tennessee State and completely disappear against West Virginia. To be fair, Kelly ranted to reporters that the "thigh bruise" he had at the end of last season was actually a "thigh tear," insinuating that OU's coaches put him at risk.

Drama. No wonder the Cincinnati Bengals have shown interest in the guy.

***

Lastly, the only part of the hockey season I watch religiously gets under way tonight, as the Dallas Stars hope to avoid a first-round oust