"...AND I'M HEADING OUT WEST, SUCKA!!!" Ah, the immortal words of Kid Rock in his song, Cowboy, rang through my head as I found out my next assignment: I'm going out to Cali to cover the NU-Fresno State baseball series. Usually, when I'm summoned from my office/janitors room to the "ivory tower of power" (as I like to call the Huskerpedia headquarters), it's over some silly reprimand such as missed deadlines, or run-on sentences, or some other minuscule problem that keeps a story from being run. Oh, and then there was the time I was called in for what has come to be known as the "Minnesota Incident" which occured during the Minneapolis regional a couple of years ago, but we'll leave the details of that off of this family-friendly website.

Inside my editor's office I was too estatic to really listen to anything he was saying beyond "You're going to California for five days and take that, weirdo... what the heck is his name... You know, the guy with crew cut who wears a red drill instructor's hat around ..." "You mean the Jarhead?" I intertwined. "Yeah, I'm sure he can keep busy doing your dirty work... And remind him for the umpteenth time that lap dances can't be included on his expense sheet, regardless of how "necessary" he thinks they are to writing a good story." Then, in mid sentence, he snuffed out his cigarette into the already overflowing ashtray, only to pat his shirt pocket to seek out another.

"Are you listening to me?" he asked. "Uh, yeah, I'm headin' out west," I replied, politely leaving out the "sucka." "This is what I need from you, and write this down, freak." He then listed things I need to cover, nothing new, the standard stuff: Have a recap story out within a couple hours of each game's end, and include pictures, lots of them: Of NU fans, of Bieden field (which is one of the nicer parks in D-I baseball, and currently serves as the home of a triple A team), of tailgating, of Komine whiffing someone, yadda yadda yadda.... I quit listening again, until the coffee cup slammed on the desk, knocking a few cigarette butts out of the ashtray and into my lap. "Another thing, get your stories and pics in right away; this series isn't being covered by Husker radio, so the Big Red legion will want to read it as it breaks. Besides, the OWH and LJS don't run their stuff till the morning... Now get outta here and start packing."

As I made my way out there door, walking at least four inches above the ground and already organizing my suitcase in my mind, I heard one last bellowing from the bosses clinched, yellow stained teeth: "One last thing, freak... " as he let the last word hang in the air. I'm almost certain when he says "freak", he's not using it as a proper noun, "I don't want any of that crap again that happened up in Minnesota a couple of years ago. Do you know that Shocker fan calls me twice a year? Once on the anniversary of her dog's birthday, and once on the date of her dog's death. Heck, there's a reason we haven't sent you out of state since then. And don't think you're indispensible. You're about as useful around here as a blow dryer to a bald man..." I interrupted, still feeling bad for the Shocker fans dog, "Hey, I'll take full responsibiltily for everything else, but the dog wasn't my fault..." "GET OUT OF HERE!" he yelled, covering his ears.

As I made my way out of his office and down the elevator, I lamented over my trip. Ahhh, Cali in March... Who is better than me? I then wondered how the Huskers would fare. Fresno State has beaten Cal St Fullerton and Stanford, but has had the last four series taken from them, two games to one. I also wondered how many Huskers would be in the stands. No doubt the games being scheduled Thursday though Saturday will hurt attendence from alumni located in the bay area. Oh well, at least I'll be there.

I made my way back down to my "office" and moved a couple of mops around to find the phone. Dang dial phone, I whispered to myself, someday I'll be important enough to warrant a touch tone, and then I'll show 'em. I called the Jarhead, who quitely accepted the assignment in his usual, matter-of-fact tone. "Fresno, huh?" he said, "man, I need to relax out there, what's the expense account look like?" "Nice try, Jarhead, but orders from the top are that we aren't to associate with anyone named Angel, Trixie, or Amber." That was reluctantly okay with the Jarhead, as he understood that this was a business trip. He then muttered something about being able to watch freshman defensive sensation "Smokin' " Joe Simokaitas live and up close. "His bat in the nine hole is key," the Jarhead noted. "Remember what Liese batting ninth last year did for the lineup. It was like having two lead-off men. Also, we need someone to emerge from the DH spot, hopefully a leftie or switch..." The Jarhead was now into full baseball mode, and I let let him go, and then shut down my computer and made my way to the car to go home and pack.

As I drove, my head still in the clouds, I couldn't help myself and popped in Kid Rock's CD, as I wanted to hear it straight from him. Kid laid it out for me: "And I'm heading out west, sucka, with the top laid back and the sunshine shining..."