The biggest little race
It’s not just a bike race. It’s the Little 500.
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It’s not just a bike race. It’s the Little 500.
Then-sophomore infielder Breanna Saucedo steps steps up to the plate to bat during the Hoosiers' win against Ball State on April 25, 2011 at the IU Softball Field.
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>To the students of IU, it’s not just a bike race. It’s the Little 500.Each spring, hundreds of students turn into athletes in the largest collegiate cycling race in the country and the biggest intramural event at IU when they ride in the Little 500.Modeled after the motor race that takes place 56 miles away at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, the Little 500 sends four-person teams around a quarter-mile track in separate races for men and women.Howdy Wilcox, former executive director of the IU Student Foundation, founded the Little 500 race in 1951, 32 years after his father won the Indianapolis 500.The race was featured in the 1979 movie “Breaking Away,” which tells the tale of an underdog team of locals who win the race. The team acquires the nickname “Cutters” after the phrase was used as an insult to stone cutters who worked at Bloomington limestone quarries.Similar to the traditions of kissing the sidewalk and drinking cold milk that accompany the Indy 500, the Little 500 is full of traditions such as mounting Schwinns and crashing on Turn Three.But it’s also an experience; one that former Cutters rider Eric Young will never forget.Young, a four-year rider for the historic team, crossed the finish line first during each of his four years riding in the Little 500 — a feat no other rider had achieved before.The Cutters rider had always planned to go to graduate school for neuroscience following his time in Bloomington. He had never heard of the Little 500 before, but four championships and one contract later, Young became a professional cyclist for Bissell cycling.“I did not think I would be earning money to race until my senior year,” Young said. “I learned a lot from Little Five ... a lot about teamwork and perseverance. It definitely defined my college experience.”Coordinated by the IU Student Foundation, the Little 500 helps raise money for working student scholarships. The race has raised more than $1.5 million in scholarships since its inception.And though it is an intramural event, former student and Wing It Cycling rider Abigail Legg said most teams don’t treat it like one.“We train about six days a week,” Legg said. “We change our diets around Little Five. We change our class schedules around Little Five.“You’re part of something so much bigger than yourself and much bigger than just a bike race in April.”
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>To the students of IU, it’s not just a bike race. It’s the Little 500.Each spring, hundreds of students turn into athletes in the largest collegiate cycling race in the country and the biggest intramural event at IU when they ride in the Little 500.Modeled after the motor race that takes place 56 miles away at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, the Little 500 sends four-person teams around a quarter-mile track in separate races for men and women.Howdy Wilcox, then-executive director of the IU Student Foundation, founded the Little 500 race in 1951, 32 years after his father won the Indianapolis 500.The race was featured in the 1979 movie “Breaking Away,” which tells the tale of an underdog team of locals who work to win the race. The team acquires the nickname “Cutters” after the phrase was used as an insult to stone cutters who worked at Bloomington limestone quarries.Similar to the traditions of kissing the sidewalk and drinking cold milk that accompany the Indy 500, the Little 500 is full of traditions of mounting Schwinns and crashing on Turn Three.But it’s also an experience — one that former Cutters rider Eric Young will never forget.Young, a four-year rider for the historic team, crossed the finish line first during each of his four years riding in the Little 500 — a feat no other rider had achieved before.The Cutters rider had always planned to go to graduate school for neuroscience following his time in Bloomington. He had never heard of the Little 500 before, but four championships and one contract later, Young became a professional cyclist for Bissell cycling.“I did not think I would be earning money to race until my senior year,” Young said. “I learned a lot from Little Five — a lot about teamwork and perseverance. It definitely defined my college experience.”Coordinated by the IU Student Foundation, the Little 500 helps raise money for working student scholarships. The race has raised more than $1.5 million in scholarships since its inception.And though it is an intramural event, former student and Wing It Cycling rider Abigail Legg said most teams don’t treat it like one.“We train about six days a week,” Legg said. “We change our diets around Little Five. We change our class schedules around Little Five ... You’re part of something so much bigger than yourself and much bigger than just a bike race in April.”
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>To the students of Indiana University, it’s not just a bike race. It’s the Little 500.Each spring, hundreds of students turn into athletes in the largest collegiate cycling race in the country and the biggest intramural event at IU when they ride in the Little 500.Modeled after the motor race that takes place 56 miles away at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, the Little 500 sends four-person teams in separate races for men and women around a quarter-mile track.Howdy Wilcox, then-executive director of the Indiana University Student Foundation, founded the Little 500 race in 1951, 32 years after his father won the Indianapolis 500.The race has since been featured in the 1979 movie “Breaking Away,” which tells the tale of an underdog team of locals who work to win the race. The team acquires the nickname “Cutters” after the phrase used as an insult to stone cutters who worked at Bloomington limestone quarries.Similar to the traditions of kissing the sidewalk and drinking cold milk that accompany the Indy 500, the Little 500 is full of the traditions of mounting Schwinns and crashing on Turn Three.But it’s also an experience — one that former Cutters rider Eric Young will never forget.Young, a four-year rider for the historic Bloomington team, crossed the finish line first each of his four years riding in the Little 500 — a feat no other rider had done before.The Cutters rider had always planned to go to graduate school for neuroscience following his time in Bloomington. He had never heard of the Little 500 before his first year at IU, but four championships and one contract later, Young became a professional cyclist for Bissell cycling.“I did not think I would be earning money to race until my senior year,” Young said. “I learned a lot from Little Five — a lot about teamwork and perseverance. It definitely defined my college experience.”Coordinated by the IU Student Foundation, the Little 500 helps raise money that goes to working student scholarships. Little 500 has raised more than $1.5 million in scholarships since its inception.And though it is an intramural event, Wing It! rider Abigail Legg said most teams don’t treat it like one.“We train about six days a week,” Legg said. “We change our diets around Little Five. We change our class schedules around Little Five. ... You’re part of something so much bigger than yourself and much bigger than just a bike race in April.”
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>They married into the job. Actually, they married into the life. Now, they’re working late nights and early mornings, just like their husbands do at the field. They’re up with the team, down with the team, waking with nightmares of rivalries and falling asleep to dreams of championships. They don’t know who will win, when they will win or if they will win again. They just know their husbands are always busy: busy with team practices, team dinners and team bonding, busy with playbooks and films and always busy with recruits. But when they look at the traditions their husbands are building, the boys they are turning into men and the life lessons their own children learn, they’re fine with the vacuuming, grocery shopping and bedtime stories. They don’t mind the busy.These coaches’ wives understand there is no such thing as an offseason. That's okay. They don't much like the offseason.--It took three years at Indiana for Joani Crean to close her rabbit ears – the ones that hear every little criticism, every opinion from the stands. It took three years of struggles and losses, while her husband tried to rebuild a historic basketball program which had been shattered. It took three years for her to grow thick skin, to be at peace.By the time last December rolled around, the basketball team was 8-0 and facing the No. 1 University of Kentucky. Tom was in his fourth year at the helm of IU’s basketball team. In that time, Joani had heard plenty of critiques.“It’s not just an undefeated start,” Joani said. “It’s my mindset. You can’t control it or change it. I just have to support it.”Indiana isn’t the basketball program it once was. Joani knows that. Her husband knows that too.There’s a wall between the couch and TV in the basement of the Crean household that has remained empty the past three years. It’s the Indiana memorabilia wall. It’s going to document “The Process.”“The Process” of rebuilding a program brought to its knees by the scandals of former coach Kelvin Sampson. “The Process” of a team that hadn’t seen much glory under Tom’s guidance – that was until the start of the 2011 season. That process and that support was a life involving a round-the-clock mentality. Joani grew up in a family of coaches. Her dad is Jack Harbaugh, the former football coach at Western Kentucky. Her brothers are current NFL coaches John and Jim Harbaugh.“If I hadn’t grown up with a dad who was a coach,” Joani said in a recent interview at Cook Hall, “I think it would have taken me longer to understand the 24/7 mentality a coach has.” Basketball is a constant in the Crean household. In a life with no offseason and no weekends, it’s always basketball, all the time.“I’ll be honest,” Joani said, “we don’t live a life without Tom’s job.”It’s a life that’s often difficult to balance. Joani learned even though she is the wife of Indiana basketball, some matters are more important than the daily ups and downs. Matters like trying to raise Megan, 16, Riley, 12, and Ainsley, 6. “I’ve learned that in the grand scheme of things that the happiness of my kids needs to come before whether or not Indiana loses or wins a basketball game," Joani said, “and that’s taken quite a few years.”She wants her family to be normal. It doesn’t matter that her husband, as well as her brothers, appear on national television. “We’re on a roller coaster, but any other parent is on the same roller coaster,” Joani said. “You just get to read about us in the paper.”People in her situation who don’t see themselves as normal are putting themselves on a pedestal. That’s a place a fan could put her husband and his family, but it’s not where she wants to put herself. She isn’t Joani Crean. She isn’t even Joani Harbaugh. She’s just Megan, Riley and Ainsley’s mother.“You have to, as a parent, remember that your kids are going through changes in their life. I’ve got one in puberty, another one who’s driving and one who’s six. Balance? I don’t know if I have an answer to that question.”Years had gone by since she vowed to be the wife of a coach. Joani played Mrs. Fix-it for a while until the jobs got too big and she gave in and hired Red Dog Maintenance. That doesn’t mean her husband doesn’t do his fair share. Tom has learned not to leave his stack of readings next to the coffee pot. If only Joani could get him to take them to the recycling bin, she’d be happy.“My husband is very coachable,” she said with a laugh. “He will change if it’s warranted. All husbands need to be coachable.” Last December, just before the Kentucky game, Joani spent a Friday evening with her family in Indianapolis. It was as close to a family night as they got: two halves of high school basketball games that featured four IU basketball recruits. “That was our family night,” Joani said. “It was a blast.”She loved spending her family time around an event that ultimately led back to her husband’s job. Joani understands what Indiana basketball means to this university, this state. She got it when people were still coming to games in 2010 after IU lost 11 straight.Then they started the 2011 season undefeated. This wasn’t the script anyone predicted.Dec. 10 started as a normal game day. Her husband rose early, like he did on most game days. Luckily, the Crean’s son Riley didn’t have a basketball game that day. That would have meant a trip to Indianapolis, and game day traffic could have made them miss the IU game. Instead, hours before tipoff, Tom and Riley went to Cook Hall, IU’s basketball development center, to shoot around before the game. Joani took Ainsley to a birthday party before coming home to clean. She didn’t like leaving the house a mess, and the tidying up had become a ritual since it had worked the last eight games. Joani’s mother and father, the Harbaughs, were in town. As Joani picked up around the house, her mother watched.“Oh, you must be nervous.”“No, Mom. I’m really not.”A few hours later, Joani walked into the belly of Assembly Hall to the sight of a student section that was almost completely filled an hour before the game. They were loud. Boy, were they loud. And they were already chanting.“F--- UK.”As she looked around the hall, she walked to her new seats. Her seats used to be just one row behind her husband’s bench on a row of bleachers. They were too close. Joani didn’t want to be in the thick of things anymore. She wanted to be able to relax a little bit during the game, maybe have a chair back, maybe even enjoy some popcorn.The noise continued to swell. She loved that the students were in their seats so early. Her phone lit up with a text message. It was from her neighbor.“Welcome to Indiana basketball,” it read. “This is what it really looks like.”--Suzy Yeagley feels like a coach. She has witnessed intense rivalries and glorious championships. She watches hours of soccer from the sidelines. She doesn’t have the technique for soccer, but she has the mind. Much like her husband. Much like his father.A day after the 2011 season ended, Suzy stared at the memorabilia on her basement wall. Every light had been turned on to illuminate the IU Soccer Hall of Fame known as the Yeagley’s basement. Each room was a different decade of history. Suzy had married into a family of coaches: her husband Todd – the current IU soccer coach. Her father-in-law Jerry – the godfather and former IU soccer coach for 41 years.Suzy was taking in the photos in the ‘90s room – the decade IU soccer brought two national championships to Bloomington. It’s been eight years since the last star was added to the seven-star IU soccer logo for its seven national titles. The Yeagleys had hoped that 2011 would be the year they added the eighth star. Not even 24 hours had passed since the sting of a golden goal had knocked the Hoosiers from the NCAA tournament. The pain still burned. People tried to cheer Suzy up by telling her there would be more time for family now that it was no longer the season. They thought her husband would be home more now.They didn’t understand. Season meant structure. Practice at two. Home by six. Games on specific days. The end of the season didn’t mean more time with Todd.Suzy isn’t upset about it. She understands the importance of her husband’s job to the university, to a group of college soccer players and to her children.“It’s very hard to complain about a life where you teach your children that the most important thing in your job is to help other people become the best people they can,” Suzy said.This life also gave the Yeagley children many lessons.Dad may have a game on Sunday at 2, but so might Grant, their 10-year-old. The Yeagley boys are at the age their parents are teaching them to be as dedicated to their team as Todd is to his – which often leaves Suzy with three males in the family having soccer games at the same time.Sometimes, she stood on the sideline of Grant’s youth soccer games with a computer in one hand that updated her husband’s college game, a phone in the other hand receiving text updates on her son Ben’s game while Grant raced by with the ball on the field in front of her.“I probably look crazy when I cheer at my computer and phone,” Suzy said with a laugh.For IU soccer, and Suzy, it’s about building champions, then winning championships – but winning isn’t what’s important.“Coaches will say, ‘I can’t tell you what we’ve done based on this season, but I’ll be able to tell you in 10 years by the kind of people they become – good husbands or fathers or whatever they become successful at and the jobs they do.”Still, when it comes time for their anniversary next December, Suzy would prefer a ring with an eighth star.She can’t help it. Title No. 4 came for IU soccer a week before her wedding day. She has been celebrating championships and the rings that come with them before she even wore her wedding ring.--Jaime Smith is terrible at saying goodbye.The departure of plenty of young men over the years from the IU baseball team, her husband Tracy’s squad, hasn’t made farewells any easier. So Jaime only says, ‘See you later.’At the end of every season, she watches as her latest handful of what she calls “unbiological” sons move on to the minor or major leagues, onto their own lives. Jaime, a mother to three boys, lives for the sounds of the clank of ball on bat or the thud of leather hitting a worn catcher’s glove.Fifty-six games a year wasn’t how she first envisioned her life.She grew up a basketball coach’s daughter, but football is her first love. Then she met Tracy.She had a degree in retailing she never used. Jaime knew to follow that dream, she would need a big city. To follow her husband’s dream, she’d need a place more suitable for a baseball coach’s career – so she changed her path.“This was not my original plan,” she said as she glanced out her kitchen window into her wooded backyard. “But it’s not a sacrifice either.”Jaime loves that she was able to raise her kids outdoors during three-hour baseball games. They made toys out of rocks, sticks, even sand. They climbed trees and created their own games. She gave them boundaries, and her children used their imaginations. Being around the game that much also taught them lessons.“The team makes so many normal growing-up mistakes,” Jaime said, “that we were able to say, ‘Look at this choice. You can learn from this.”It’s a game and a life that taught her children about highs and lows. Watching their dad lose taught them life isn't all glory.“When my children grow up,” Jaime said, “They will see lots of examples of their father changing people.”It has taught her kids how to grow and her as well. Jaime used to think there were jobs for men and jobs for women. That line blurred when she ended up fixing the broken toilet seat.She also has learned that the end of a season can leave a bitter taste while making her crave the next, and that sometimes when plans change, life can still be better than imagined. It’s not a fairy tale.“We have a house in the woods. Why? Because he has no time to mow the lawn,” she said. “But his field at IU looks great.”--Angie Wilson is still learning the supermarket aisles at Marsh.Almost a year into a new life in a new state, Angie’s just beginning to understand what it means to be a head coach’s wife. Video camera in hand, the mother of five has started to capture important moments her husband Kevin, the new IU football coach, was missing. She admits the life can be tough.“We never see him,” Angie said in a phone interview. “He’s so busy. He’s dedicated to us, but he’s dedicated to his job. He took this on with full force.”Her husband has a responsibility to “command the IU football ship.” Sometimes, Angie said, it can be weird to go to Wal-Mart and hear people talking about her husband and what he did or didn’t do in his first year with a football program that hasn’t seen a bowl game since 2007. This was the man she met 17 years ago and was married to within six months of their first date. These strangers in a Wal-Mart hadn’t even had a conversation with him. How could they possibly understand?“I don’t think they know the scope of how many hours they look at film and that their job is reliant on 18 to 24 year olds,” Angie said. “It’s a sport and if they didn’t want to win, they wouldn’t be good coaches.”Good coaches, thankfully, have their wives to stand beside them, to support them and to understand what not everyone chooses to understand.“Every year they start out with a clean slate… with the same chances to win those 12 games,” Angie said. “It’s a lot of pressure to get all those kids to perform 12 days out of the year. …but everyone can be an armchair coach. I’m guilty of it too.”With only 60 minutes of actual clock time per game and a schedule of 12 games a year, her husband’s performance is ultimately judged on 12 hours of performance from 18 to 24 year olds. Angie and her family’s life comes down to how those 12 hours turn out every season.Twelve hours. --Sports widow – what a terrible term, the wives thought. How sad to those women who actually are widows. Coaches’ wives are not sports widows – a wife who is left alone because her husband’s sport stole him away. Alone? They’re never alone. If they aren’t surrounded by the team or the fans, they’re surrounded by the pressures, the expectations. But at the root of the titles – coach and coach’s wife – is a relationship built on the first time they laid eyes, on each other. These women build their relationships just like their husbands build their program – on strength, trust and love.And this coaching thing. It doesn’t take away from them; it becomes a part of them. This life teaches husbands, wives and children how to learn to live with losing and how to appreciate those days when everything goes right.-- Joani Crean still doesn’t really have a single definition for a Hoosier. Her best explanation is a person who lives off a dirt road, who painted an IU on the side of their barn, who shot at a rusty hoop attached to that barn, just like generations before. That day in December, when her husband’s team played Kentucky, Hoosiers surrounded her.She liked the 10 point lead her Hoosier sons built with nine minutes remaining in the game. Then, she watched it slip away. One point-deficit. Then a two-point deficit. She was a little upset. She didn’t want to lose this game, but she thought it was over. It was a good, close game. IU had played well. They had started off the season 8-0. There’s not much more to ask of a team coming off a 12-20 season. Until with 5.6 seconds remaining, Verdell Jones streaked down the court and with 2.2 seconds left passed the ball back to Christian Watford, all alone at the right side of the arc.The crowd was standing. Then it was jumping. Joani had never heard it so loud inside a basketball arena. She saw Watford, just beyond the arc, release the ball. She heard the swoosh through the hoop. All around her there was a rush of fans to center court.Then it was all a bit fuzzy. She sat down. She cried. Fans dressed in red poured from every crevice in the hall. The floor disappeared.Joani began to move with the fans. She kept getting bumped, but each time the fan turned around to apologize. She couldn’t believe how polite they were.Lost in the moment, she searched for husband, her team, her life. After three years of losses, there were so many words left unspoken between them. After three years of struggles, this was finally a fun night. This was the night that proved the busy was truly worth it.She rushed to her team and hugged them as her head barely reached their chests. Then she turned to find her husband. Somewhere on the court, she found Tom and held him, crying.They didn’t say anything as they walked off the court, side by side.
Clayton Anderson isn’t a household name, though he is a regular at Bloomington’s Bluebird Nightclub. Clayton and his band will perform at the Bluebird on Friday, two days after releasing a new single.The 2005 IU graduate is known by high school teachers and family friends in Bedford, Ind., and some Hoosiers at IU.They know Clayton as the genuinely-smiling country crooner with a deep southern drawl. He’s the grandson who still drives five hours home for his grandmother’s birthday party and the small-town guy who sings about Muscadine wine. But he’s also the one, they whisper, on the cusp of making it.
Clayton Anderson is a singer-songwriter from Bedford, Ind. His debut record is titled Torn Jeans and Tailgates.
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>The final shot arced toward the basket, and time stopped.As he watched the ball, junior forward Christian Watford kept his right hand in the air.The fans stood with their hands raised, holding their breath. The five red banners softly swayed.Then, the sound of pure swish echoed. The golden numbers lit 0.0.Across Assembly Hall, the wave of emotion released.A decade of pent up frustration was freed onto Branch McCracken court. Since 2001, after former IU Coach Bob Knight was fired, Indiana has been roaming a desert in search of respectability. IU Coach Tom Crean’s first three years brought the worst season records to Assembly Hall in its history. On Dec. 10, the Hoosiers found paradise.An uproar filled the rafters. The IU men’s basketball team celebrated in a pile. Thousands of fingers pointed in the air. Seniors who sat through a 6-25 record their freshman season watched their team upset the country’s premier team to turn the card to 9-0.The faithful stormed the court.“This is Indiana. This is Indiana,” fans shouted as they swarmed past black-shirted security guards. A guard threw both his hands up like stop signs toward the rushing crowd. They couldn’t even be slowed. Fans sprinted. Some tripped and fell. Some were even trampled.Members of the Big Red Basketball Band’s first instinct was to protect their instruments from the chaos. They lifted their trombones and trumpets above their heads before dropping them to their mouths to play the fight song.“We’re No. 1,” a fan shouted. “No. 1, baby.”Fans in the general admission seats became restless to join the party at center court. They began jumping over the cinder block walls, using the scoreboard as a ladder rung.More fans spilled over the edge. Policemen stood on the wood bleachers with their hands extended, catching fans as they jumped and sprinted the second their foot touched the wood.“Careful,” one officer said. “Here you go.”Once they hit the court, they slammed into one another in jubilation. Fans poured across all avenues of the hall. A mother stood protecting her two young children, their eyes wide at the sight of what college basketball means to Bloomington.Gray-haired men shouted. Friends hugged. Fans high-fived.“We did it,” a Hoosier alumna cheered before kissing her husband. “We’re back.”The victory brought back an old feeling.Saturday night brought back the faith that Butler basketball isn’t what the state of Indiana should be known for.This is Indiana basketball. It’s the five banners. It’s Martha the Mop Lady. It’s the costumes and the candy stripes. It’s the tradition. After inheriting a program in shambles, Crean had now become the shepherd. At the edge of the court, the coach watched as the floor disappeared beneath a red sea.
IU fans celebrate after they upset No. 1 Kentucky
Indiana freshman Cody Zeller dunks on No. 1 Kentucky on Dec. 10 at Assembly Hall
Two 8-0 teams tipped off today at Assembly Hall when Indiana went up against No. 1 Kentucky.
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____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>The days when sports fans discussed the best shooter in town, the greatest plan by the coach and the up-and-coming freshman in the barber shop are long gone.The mornings spent sipping coffee and hashing sports facts have started to disappear.Forget the sheers. Throw out the cold decaf.Those days have been replaced with message boards, anonymous comments and, most recently, fake Twitter accounts.Here in Bloomington, the craze began somewhere between @FakeFredGlass and @FakeCoachWilson and has progressed to #TheFakeMovement — including @FogiYerrell, @PannerHerea, @HeremyJollowell and more. It’s a craze Assistant Athletic Director for Media Relations J.D. Campbell said can be seen as harmless but can also be extremely personal. Campbell said while some people think they are being funny, they might not realize someone on the team might actually be offended by those 140 characters.“But, they (athletes) just have to understand that that’s part of being an athlete at this level,” Campbell said.As of right now, Campbell and IU Coach Tom Crean aren’t planning on doing anything with the new Twitter accounts.“The big thing is if there’s something that is inappropriate, then we would have a concern if it came to our attention,” Campbell said. “There is a difference, though, between parody and being mean-spirited. I don’t like the part of society that we’re in right now that allows that kind of dialogue to take place when it crosses that line.”But when 2012 IU commit Yogi Ferrell learned he had a fake Twitter account, he tweeted, “hahaha theres a fake twitter account of me…..@fogiyerell.”So the IDS contacted @FogiYerrell and @HeremyJollowell to find out their take on fake accounts and what it’s like to be a fake IU recruit.@FOGIYERRELLINDIANA DAILY STUDENT How long has @FogiYerrell been a Twitter account? Why?@FogiYerrell: It began two nights ago when one of us, inspired by @FakeCoachWilson, decided to make a fake account of Gary Harris expressing his regret for choosing Michigan State rather than IU. To provide a contrast, we created @FogiYerrell to brag of making the right choice — IU. It caught on, and it spread to the creation of parody accounts for the rest of the players of #themovement. One of our followers has dubbed us #thefakemovement.IDS Are you also in charge of @JeterPurkin and @PonRatterson and those?@FY We control a few, but not all of the parody accounts.IDS Do you know the real Yogi Ferrell?@FY We have met him but don’t know him personally.IDS What do you feel is the key to being a good fake account?@FY Doing your research. Gary Harris tweeted “lmao I swear, dude did his research”. Know the player’s team and schedule.IDS What does The Movement mean to you?@FY The chance to win that sixth banner. That’s what we all want.IDS Why make a fake account? Why not just tweet your opinion from your own account?@FY We regularly tweet about the program from our personal accounts, but this allows us to reach out to #hoosiernation from a satirical point of view.IDS People believe that fake accounts can be hysterical but also degrading. Why tweet bogus thoughts of a high schooler?@FY We realize there is possible controversy surrounding our work, but the feedback from #hoosiernation, as well as from the players, has been positive. We don’t mean to offend anyone. It’s all for the sake of the IU basketball Twitter community.IDS What’s the best part of being fake Yogi Ferrell?@FY The chicks.@HeremyJollowellIDS How did this all start? @HeremyJollowell My account started after I saw Fogi’s and decided it would be cool to add on and see if we couldn’t get the whole class represented. IDS Do you know the real Jeremy Hollowell?@HJ No, I have never met him. I’m just another IU fan who followed his recruitment. IDS Are you running any other fake account?@HJ No, Heremy is my only fake account. IDS Why make a fake Twitter account? Why not tweet your opinion from your own account?@HJ It’s mostly just to have fun, make people laugh and bring some attention to the 2012 class. IDS What are the pros and cons of fake Twitter accounts?@HJ It’s fun being able to interact with some people and bring laughs to Hoosier nation. One con is I feel like I could be disrespecting people at times, which I try my best to not do.IDS What do you think about The Movement?@HJ I’m extremely excited for them to get to campus. This class means a lot to the future of IU basketball and getting back to where we have been in the past. I have been a die-hard fan since I was a little kid and haven’t wavered in my status through the trouble of the last few years. I think it is nice to have positive buzz coming out of the basketball program again — get a little more national attention, stuff like that. IDS What is your favorite fake account that isn’t you?@HJ It would have to be @FakeCoachWilson or @TheBigHandsome. IDS Why did @HeremyJollowell pick IU?@HJ Heremy picked IU because it is the best place in the U.S., and the fans are top-notch. IDS What’s the best thing about being @HeremyJollowell?@HJ Heremy is just a laid-back, honest guy that loves IU basketball.IDS Future plans for @HeremyJollowell?@HJ Hopefully continue to gain popularity on Twitter and get some more followers and, hopefully, provide laughs to Hoosier fans. IDS The IU basketball program isn’t a huge fan of fake Twitter accounts. Will that make you stop tweeting?@HJ I don’t intend to anger them or bring a bad light to the program. As soon as someone comes to me about stopping the account, I will immediately. It’s just all in fun.
They got to spend one night as senior sleeping outside Assembly Hall, but at around 5 p.m. today, Camp Crean was shut down by IU Athletics and the students were asked to pack up, but were given vouchers to allow them to be the first ones inside Assembly Hall on Saturday.
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>Make no mistake. The patellar tendon injury and the subsequent surgery have kept injured junior running back Darius Willis from the football field this season.It’s an injury that pushed the IU Athletics Department to apply for a medical hardship for its star. But that patellar tendon injury isn’t keeping Willis from the wrestling ring.The injured running back first made a side appearance at an Infinity Pro Wrestling event in late September, on the same day his team fell to North Texas, 24-21.On Saturday, he’ll appear in his first official wrestling match as part of Team PJB.So, why can Willis wrestle with an injury but not put up numbers on the field? Simple. It’s the type of injury.Dr. Vijay Jotwani is an assistant professor of clinical family Sports Medicine. Put simply, he’s a non-surgical sports medicine doctor.Jotwani said the reasons athletes are unable to participate in one sport because of an injury but can perform in another while still injured are a case-by-case basis.“One is the injury itself. Obviously, you need to get an accurate diagnosis and try to decide specifically what’s going on and your limitations,” Jotwani said. “Then it’s a matter of deciding what the issue is.“Perhaps if he was really doing pro wrestling and he had an injury that he couldn’t play football with ... you wonder if he did that under the proper medical guidance or not. You know, you just have to wonder.”Jotwani went on to explain that there are two types of injuries: those that get worse by playing on them and those that won’t get worse by playing on them. The latter are more about managing pain.“There’s some potential if you had a bad ACL tear and you tried to play with that ACL tear because your knee now is a little bit looser that you can damage other parts of the knee,” Jotwani said. “But a rib injury, you see a lot of these NFL players playing with a rib injury. They’ll get a pain injection to numb up that area of the chest and they’ll go ahead and play. It will still be uncomfortable, but the body is going to continue to heal.”However, in some injuries, it’s a case of movement. For Willis, it’s a case of pivoting, like he could do while running a route or avoiding a defender.Don Lechien, the co-owner and promoter of Infinity Pro Wrestling, said Willis’ knee hasn’t given his new team too many problems. “Luckily, in pro wrestling that cutting motion is limited,” Lechien said. “So, it’s not really that big of a concern.”On the posters for the event are two photos: one of PJB and one of Willis, with the words “Indiana running back” in red underneath.Lechien is expecting 300 to 400 people at Saturday’s event at Bloomington’s National Guard Armory. Team PJB’s five-on-five is the semi-main event. “Darius is holding up pretty well in the training aspect of it and getting in front of the crowd. He’s going to really stand out and shine,” Leichen said of the running back who has performed in a stadium with more than 100,000 fans. “I know when I’ve had injuries in the past, once you get that adrenaline flowing, you never even feel it, up until the next day. “While Willis declined to comment about his next wrestling appearance, PJB said they are both excited to get in the ring.“He’s improved a lot and he’s started to learn the psychology that’s behind wrestling,” PJB said. “I think it’s fantastic that fans who didn’t get to see him play football will get to see him in some way in his last year at IU.”
Freshman forward Eriq Zavaleta kicks the ball as senior midfielder Alec Purdie runs up behind him Oct. 5 in IU's 3-2 loss to Lousiville at Bill Armstrong Stadium.
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>Peter Barberino braced himself for the hit against the ropes. He wasn’t a rookie. Hitting the ropes with his ribs was a rookie move. He knew to let his back protect him, to take the brunt of the force.Dressed in his red gear with “PJB” written across the back and kicking guards with “I-T-F’in-G” (I’m That Fucking Guy) stitched to them, the IU senior was in the ring on Sept. 24 at the National Guard Armory against Austin Manix, a wrestler seemingly disliked among the Bloomington crowd at the Infinity Pro Wrestling event.Manix caught PJB off the ropes, picked him up and threw him to the ground.Baberino, known in the wrestling world as PJB, hit the mat on his back.A crash of body against cushioned two-by-fours rang through the auxiliary gym, and boos filled the Saturday night air.PJB squeezed his eyes shut as he squirmed on his back.Upon graduating in May, PJB plans to move to Tampa, Fla., to train with Florida Championship Wrestling.Until then, he has school, a job, an internship and a volunteer coaching position that takes up the time he doesn’t spend training for wrestling.P-J-BOUNCERHis right pointer finger pressed to his ear, PJB’s blue eyes darted around the crowded bar. He was like a secret service agent in search of a problem. The people in his ear were in constant communication.It was about 1 a.m. on a Friday at Kilroy’s Sports. The line outside was wrapped around the building, and the downstairs crowd grew for the next hour until it moved to the upstairs dance floor.PJB had traded in his red gear and kicking guards for a pair of jeans, a neon green Sports sweatshirt and a black Yankees hat.“See that girl in the beige sweater?” PJB asked. “She’s not 21, and our bouncers know it. Oh, there she goes, and so does her friend.”Patrons belted Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” as PJB picked up empty glasses.PJB was nothing to the vodka-shooting students.As drinks were poured, those students liked to think they could become friends with him to get away with more. They had no idea that underneath that baggy sweatshirt is a body that lifts weights five times a week, a body that could lift them up and carry them out like a lumberjack carrying a bundle of twigs. And the students had no idea he’s a wrestler who could take them down in a half-second.“They don’t pay me enough to talk to them,” PJB said. “But as soon as one of them begins to touch me, I tell them it’s time to go.”By 1:39 a.m., PJB had protected the bar against a group of drunks that jokingly threw drinks across the table and another who decided to lay down on one of the bar’s benches.By 1:46 a.m., PJB slowed his patrol as he helped the bar backs with drinks left behind. There was no line outside, and a majority of the crowd had moved to the upstairs dance floor.“Last drinks will be served at 2:30 a.m., so it will be an earlier night than when I bar back,” PJB said. “Then, I’m not done ‘til 5 in the morning.”The schedule eventually wore on PJB. Weeks later, he quit Sports to focus on classes, wrestling and being Coach Peej.COACH PEEJThe back of his red St. Charles football cap sported his name stitched in the back: Coach PJ.“We like to call him Peej,” one of PJB’s eighth-grade football players said as he giggled. “Can we call you Peej?” another chimed.“You can call me Coach,” PJB said with a stern smile.“OK, Coach ... Peej,” the first football player said as he ran away with his teammate to listen to their duties for the Oklahoma drill.PJB spent every Tuesday through Friday this fall teaching defense to a group of middle school students for the St. Charles football team. He had them running plays and hitting the tackling sled with two hands.The young boys grunted, each seemingly louder in what seemed to become a competition.“We like to grunt because it makes PJ laugh,” said Jon-Luke, one of his players. “Plus, it makes us sound tougher.”Near the end of practice, when they felt like being giggly instead of tough, a group of defenders asked PJB if he’d buy cookie dough.“I’ll buy it if your moms make the dough into cookies for me,” PJB teased them. “What types are you selling?”“Well, there’s two types,” the first seller said.“Yeah, the one that makes you fat and the other that makes you fit,” the second seller said.“I think I need the one that makes me fit,” PJB said. He’s on a diet that typically consists of five to six small meals, multivitamins and protein drinks.The third seller ran up to him and poked his left bicep. “Yeah, Coach Peej. We’ll get you 30 tubs.”They think he’s just a muscular college kid.They have no idea he’s a professional wrestler.‘THAT GUY’ PJB rolled to his side on the mat.He knows every time he’s dropped to the mat from six feet or higher, it’s like getting into a car crash at 25 miles per hour.It’s a price he’s willing to pay.He knows he’s not going to make millions on the mat. But he found his passion for wrestling when he was growing up watching it on the couch with his dad.“It’s a dream to make it to the WWE,” PJB said. “Wrestling has just always been in my life in some shape or form.”At Sports and St. Charles, they thought PJB’s size was something they could test. In high school, he thought his stature wouldn’t would allow him to make a career in professional wrestling. He stood 5-foot-10-inches and weighed only 150 pounds when he graduated Lakeshore High School in 2003.He realized through eating and weightlifting he could become bigger. He turned professional in June 2010.PJB is now 6-foot-1-inch. His weight is 220, and his move to Tampa, Fla., is more than a big opportunity for his career. It’s a chance for him to make a difference.As Manix stood looking above PJB, a 6-foot injured running back slid through the ropes to protect his friend in the match. Manix turned around, and IU football’s injured running back Darius Willis leapt at him and took Manix down in a flying shoulder tackle.PJB rose to his feet as Manix and Willis stood. PJB walked toward Manix as he put his right arm between his legs and lifted him to his right shoulder before throwing him to the mat to end the match with his signature move, All She Wrote.PJB will wrestle Manix again at an Infinity Pro Wrestling event at 7 p.m. Saturday at the Bloomington National Guard Armory.“I want to be able to help influence kids and be there for people,” PJB said. “Right now if I were to go to see kids that have cancer, they wouldn’t know me. If you make it in wrestling, you can go do that kind of stuff, and I will be able to give back.”
The following recruits are supposed to sign to IU men's basketball Class of 2012 tomorrow: