Russ Florence – Jim Stafford's BlogOKC

What’s in a name? Apparently, a lot in OKC Baseball Club rebrand to ‘Comets’ … Or not much.

Comets scorebard — The Bricktown Ballpark scoreboard shows the team’s new name at reveal event.

The Oklahoma City Baseball Club revealed its new name, “Comets,” in a ceremony Saturday evening at the Chickasaw Bricktown Ballpark witnessed by at least a couple thousand enthusiastic fans.

I was among those who showed up for the Big Reveal, so I can attest to the collective cheer that went up when the “Comets” name and logo appeared on the scoreboard screen.

I was not expecting “Comets,” although I’m not sure what I expected. Maybe “Flycatchers,” which my friend Ed Godfrey had predicted as the future team name. Or the “Waving Wheats” or something that related to Oklahoma.

An aside: There’s is already a “Flycatchers” team in Oklahoma in the Pecos League team Blackwell Flycatchers. Yes, Blackwell.

The OKC club tried hard to make “Comets” make sense for OKC baseball fans by linking it to Commerce, OK, native and MLB Hall of Famer Mickey Mantle. If you are like me, over the age of 60 and a long-time baseball fan, you know that Mantle was known as the “Commerce Comet.”

But if you are, say, 30 years old and a casual baseball fan, you may not even know who Mickey Mantle is or that he was from Oklahoma or that he had the “Comet” nickname.

In its presentation that night at the ballpark, the team also pointed out that stadium is located on Mickey Mantle Drive.

I thought it was a pretty big reach to link the “Comet” name to Mantle, but not entirely out of order. The team also linked the “Comets” name to the number of astronauts who were native Oklahomans.

Now THAT is a reach.

Ed Godfrey attended the event with me, and he was pretty ambivalent to the “Comets.” If I remember correctly, he said “meh.”

But our mutual friend, Steve Buck, had a much stronger reaction. About two minutes after the “Comets” name reveal, Steve unloaded on the name in our group text.

“Comets!!!! Why? Help me understand please? I hate it”

Yes, but how do you really feel, Steve?

The reaction on social media was similar, with dozens of folks posting on Twitter (now X) their opposition to the new name.

Screenshot

However, they aren’t ALL negative. In fact, Whitley O’Connor, co-founder of the Curbside Chronicle, went so far as to declare it the “best name in OKC Baseball’s history.”

Screenshot

Whitley makes a good point.

Before we left the “Comets” name reveal event on Saturday night at the Ballpark, I ran into my friend Russ Florence, and his son, Luke. Russ was all in on the new name, so I told him about Steve’s instant reaction.

“He’ll love it by the end of next season,” Russ predicted.

Bottom line: I’m pretty sure the actual name of the team won’t lure more people to the ballpark next year or drive any away. (Full disclosure: Steve Buck and I are both partial season ticket holders; and the team name won’t influence our decisions to follow the team)

Those of us who attend Comets games will be there just to watch some good ball, as my old editor, the late Bob Colon, would say.

As Ed and I were walking out of the stadium afterward, Ed said the name really didn’t matter because the team would change it in three years, anyway (presumably for the boost in merchandise sales, for you cynics).

If that is true, then the “Comets” name is perfect, I replied. A comet appears in the sky one night, and a few nights later it has disappeared.

And we’ll be on the the next name.

OKC’s Golden Age of Tweetups & OpenBeta

I came across the obituary last week of Oklahoma City business leader Phil Scaramucci. I never met him, but his name was familiar. As I read further into his life story, I came across the name of his wife, Avis.

I don’t know Avis, either, but I know of her as the founder of the now departed Nonna’s Ristorante in Bricktown. That was in the obituary, as well.

And THAT led me to recall an event I attended at Nonna’s in 2009. It was called a “Tweetup,” one among many such events that sprang up across OKC and elsewhere in that era, which provided the opportunity to meet my new Twitter friends in real life.

The Tweetup at Nonna’s was such fun. Probably well over 100 people attended, and, as I recall, there was free food and drink. I don’t know who paid for it. Great networking opportunities.

Tweetups became such a thing that I received an invitation to attend a Tweetup at the 2009 International BIO convention that I attended on behalf of i2E and the Greater OKC Chamber.

What set Tweetups apart — and what I call Early Twitter of the late 2000s — was how positive and upbeat everyone was. Folks were eager to lift one another up, and the concept of Twitter trolls had yet to appear to spoil the fun.

Social media was emerging in importance in that era. In fact, my friend Russ Florence, President and CEO of the Consulting and PR firm Schnake Turnbo Frank, recently told me that his firm was among the first to hire a social media and digital media specialist.

I found my way onto Twitter in the Spring of 2008 at Russ’s invitation. I worked as a Business News reporter at The Oklahoman, and discovered Twitter to be an incredible fountain of information and news.

So, I jumped into the deep end and have never left.

About that same time, another phenomenon occurred with the rise of co-working spaces. The first I recall was OKC CoCo — for Coworking Collaborative — created in downtown OKC by Derrick Parkhurst.

Derrick began hosting what he called “OpenBetas” on a semi-regular basis. OpenBetas were events where anyone could pitch their innovation or new business concept. There was food and drink and a festive upbeat atmosphere.

For example, Oklahoma native and entrepreneur Noah Everett shared details of his company called Twitpic at an OpenBeta event back in those days. Twitpic was huge in early Twitter as a way to post your photos.

Screenshot — Oklahoman and Twitpic founder Noah Everett discusses his venture at OpenBeta in 2009.

Another friend, Dan Lovejoy, today an Enterprise Architect Expert for OG&E, also fondly recalled the era of Tweetups and OpenBetas.

“That really felt like an extension of the heyday of the blogosphere when so many people were blogging,” Dan told me. “I remember in those early days I would follow anyone from Oklahoma.

“I spoke at one of those (OpenBetas). They were fun.”

Fast forward to today’s Twitter, which is now known as “X” and owned by Elon Musk, who seems intent upon running into the ground. Many of my old Twitter friends have fled the site as the number of trolls increased exponentially and negativity is everywhere.

I’m still on Twitter (I refuse to call it “X”), if only because it remains a great source for breaking news, both local and beyond. I try my best to ignore the trolls, bots and MAGA acolytes.

But that’s where we are in 2024. Far removed from the naivety of Tweetups and OpenBetas.

So, I’m sorry for the loss of Phil Scaramucci, but I’m glad I got to read his life story in the paper. And how it reminded me of that 2009 Tweetup at Nonna’s.

Tweetups and Nonna’s are now only fond memories. Sadly, neither will ever be replaced.

Poultry ruling or punchline that took way too long?

Poultry ruling

As a public service, I’m repeating a newspaper headline from this week that I’m sure a lot of people missed because it’s 2023 and there’s no longer a place for the daily paper in their lives.

“Ruling puts water pollution stamp on poultry companies”

I had deja vu all over again when I stumbled across the story on page 4A of Friday’s edition of The Oklahoman.

The case began in 2005 when then Oklahoma Attorney General Drew Edmondson filed a lawsuit on behalf of the state against 13 integrated poultry companies.

Edmondson alleged the poultry companies — most based in Western Arkansas — had polluted the Illinois River basin from the spread of chicken manure across pasture and cropland .

So, why is this important enough that I write a blog post about it?

Well, in 2008 I was a Business News reporter for The Oklahoman, with agriculture as one of my beats. When a hearing began in February 2008 in Federal Court in Tulsa on Edmondson’s bid for an injunction against spreading poultry manure in the Illinois River watershed, my job required I cover it for the paper.

drew edmondson — Drew Edmondson at poultry hearing.

The hearing was held in Tulsa federal courthouse before Judge Gregory K. Frizzell.

Turns out, the injunction hearing turned into a long-haul of court dates. It ran through four February hearings before a week’s pause, and then picked up in March for another week.

There was testimony from “expert” witnesses and acrimony between attorneys for both sides.

Judge Frizzell was clearly frustrated over the slow pace of the hearing.

“Frankly, this is the longest preliminary injunction hearing I’ve ever conducted,” Frizzell was quoted as saying in one of my stories.

What do I remember of the hearing 15 years later? Seared into my memory is how vigorously attorneys from both sides of the case — plaintiff and defendants — attacked the credibility of every expert who testified.

In fact, attorneys worked so hard to destroy the credibility of the witnesses that the actual testimony seemed like an afterthought.

My friend Russ Florence also sat through each day of the hearing because his Tulsa-based public relations firm, Schnake Turnbo Frank, was working on behalf of the defendants. Today, Russ is President and CEO of Schnake Turnbo and is currently writing a book on the history of the firm, which includes a section on the trial.

Russ writes: “Like the Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote, each side tried to out-maneuver each — politically, legally, and publicly. They circled one another, trying to deliver a punch that would resonate …”

I was grateful when the hearing finally ended and I didn’t have to make a daily commute to Tulsa and back. Several months later Judge Frizzell denied the injunction request.

The actual trial over the pollution issue began the next year. I was no longer working at the paper, so someone else had the pleasure to cover it.

And now, almost 15 years later, we have our verdict. The poultry companies — 13 of them originally — are responsible for the poultry manure pollution of the Illinois Watershed.

“So much has happened since then,” Russ told me. “Some of the poultry companies have been acquired by others. Several of the key players have retired. And to think, I was single then, and am now married and have a fifth grader.”

And what of the punishment imposed on the responsible poultry companies?

“The parties are hereby directed to meet and attempt to reach an agreement with regard to remedies to be imposed in this action. In the event the parties are unable to reach an accord, the court shall enter judgment,” Judge Frizzell wrote in his ruling.

That’s it? It’s a ruling easily could have been imposed back in, say, 2009.

Seems like a joke that took way too long to get to the punchline.

An OKC Field of Dreams and ghosts of baseball past

Moneyball is one of my favorite movies. It shows the impact that using computer statistics to drive player development had on Major League baseball and the Oakland Athletics in the early 2000s.

The movie features a host of memorable scenes, including one where Oakland outfielder David Justice asks new first baseman Scott Hatteberg what he feared most at the position.

Hatteberg had been a catcher all of his professional career, and to that point had never played even an inning at first base.

“A baseball hit in my general direction,” was Hatteberg’s honest reply to Justice’s question.

That’s exactly how I felt Sunday afternoon as I stood in right field at the Northeast High School baseball field.

I was there at the invitation of my friend, Russ Florence, who invited a group of fellow adults to “have a catch” with him. A lifelong baseball fan, Russ began his informal monthly “catch” several months ago.

It was sort of a Field of Dreams-come-to-real-life opportunity for those of us who once played the game or have followed it all of our lives.

The baseball dreamers who came out Sunday included several guys my age or older, a few younger and a couple of women who showed more agility than most of their male counterparts.

I dug my old baseball glove out of the closet and joined about a dozen others at the Northeast field.

Unfortunately, the experience revealed exactly how the passage of time has robbed me of athletic ability, real or imagined.

Once upon a time, I thought of myself as a pretty good baseball player. Now that was in Little League in College Station, Texas, followed by Pony League as a 13- and 14-year-old.

Here’s how it went five decades later on a warm November afternoon beneath a bright blue sky.

First, we warmed up by playing catch with a partner about 40 feet away. I put most of my throws into the ground in front of him or several feet to his left.

My shoulder ached after about 15 minutes. My glove hand screamed with pain from catching baseballs in the heart of the mitt.

Then came the real embarrassment. I stood in right field as Russ hit flies and grounders to players stationed at infield and outfield positions.

He hit one in my general direction.

My feet felt like they were in quicksand as I “ran” toward it. I could not bend over far enough to even make a stabbing attempt at a catch.

I hung my head in shame. No one seemed to notice.

Russ hit about three other balls in my direction. I managed to catch one on the bounce barehanded, but caught none before they hit the ground. I decided if a ball wasn’t hit within three feet of where I was standing, I had no chance.

But the day wasn’t a total loss. I had the opportunity to visit with some old — and new — friends. The weather was pleasant watching from the dugout, where I spent much of my time.

“It really scratches an itch for a lot of people,” Russ told me afterward. “None of us is as good as as we once were — or as good as we THINK we once were. I’m glad you were there.”

Thank you, Russ, for inviting this ‘ghost’ of a former player to experience your OKC version of the Field of Dreams.

Even if it brought home a sobering reality of aging.