This first ran in Sunday editions of The Times and The News-Star, August 4, 2019.

This mentions a couple of Sports Information Directors, now often called Associate Athletic Directors/Communications, but in a way it’s about all the people out there involved in this sort of role. The job is the same: publicize the student-athletes, coaches, teams, and opportunities in the University Athletics Department. But it’s changing constantly because of technology. Maybe a bit because of culture. And depending on the fan base, because of expectations. These crews are the offensive linemen of publicity, close knit and hard-working, pushing the heavy stuff out of the way to make the team look better. And if they’re doing it right, they’re helping to prepare the student-athletes for the day when no one will ask them to shoot a free throw or get a base hit anymore. 

About the busiest person on any college campus that offers intercollegiate athletics is the sports information director, whose job it is to dish out info on more than a dozen teams, serve the student-athletes and media, organize an able staff and its publications, soothe the egos of coaching staffs and media members, and deal with the expectations, often unrealistic, of avid fan bases.

It’s a great job if you like working year-round and having somebody always mad at you, usually for something you didn’t do.

Malcolm Butler just began his 21st year as Louisiana Tech’s SID, or Associate Athletics Director/Communications if you prefer the fancy title. Both titles mean you have a to-do list as long as a power forward.

He’s also the Voice of the Lady Techsters and one of my besties; I work in University Communications at the school and pitch in to help Malcolm when he wants. But since he is in charge and I am not, his job is a bit tougher, in the same sort of way that a pine tree is a bit tougher than a pine needle. With football season less than a month away, he and the men and women serving their colleges and universities in Malcolm’s role are classic one-armed wallpaper hangers and will be until spring sports are over. And I haven’t even mentioned that they are constantly being asked, “Hey, can you get me tickets to …?”

Another of our friends recently retired, which is the reason for today’s essay. After more than 30 years as the SID at Northwestern State, Doug Ireland — like Malcolm at Tech, he’s one of our favorite bachelors — quietly announced this spring that he was hanging up his ink pen and constantly buzzing Go Demons cell phone in May so he could devote more time to his true passion — mermaid research. That guy…

While his announcement was low key, there was nothing quiet about his Official Send-Off last month, an open-to-the-public “roast” that celebrated Doug’s career and helped raise money for an endowed scholarship in his name. The cost was $25 for barbecue and a chance to hear friends playfully hammer on Doug — and 300 people came. It was like having a funeral for someone who was alive and not even sick. People both made fun of the guy and praised the guy, and he had to sit there on stage the whole time.

The idea was Greg Burke’s, AD at NSU and a guy quicker on the draw than most of us. He thought of the event, organized it, pushed it, and now Doug has a scholarship in his name and 300 people have a night of laughter to remember. And that’s maybe the best thing: people laughed. Just relaxed and enjoyed themselves. A couple hours of hearing lots of people laugh is about the best medicine there is.

It’s a great idea, and the students who earn the scholarship are going to benefit because of all that Doug has done and because his friends recognized and appreciated it.

The attire was “Dougie Casual,” but I wore underwear anyway. (Joke.) I even wrote Doug a poem. It began, “We met in 1983, I think it was in Cell Block D,”… and then my iambic pentameter broke down, totally, as we often did long, long ago when we were sportswriters, losing rental car keys, rental cars, and billfolds all across both the Southeastern and Southland Conferences.

Once in a restaurant Dougie was told the Special of the Day was beef tongue he told the waitress he didn’t want to eat anything that came out of an animal’s mouth. “Just give me two eggs,” he said.

OK. So …

Our dear old friend, the late and great Dan Jenkins, once wrote that “It’s the laugher you can carry through the years that turn you old…” And it is. It doesn’t cure everything, but it sure helps get you down the road, lightens the load, and makes the journey a little less lonesome and a little more fun.

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