Sabado Raz: How it All Started

The photo I ran 20 years ago. Guess which one I am?

RAZ'S NOTE: My Saturday Morning blog began 20 years ago, on April 24, 2000. As Director of Content for the Internet startup bike.com, I introduced the column and the inspiration behind it. Thought I'd share the original column today. Enjoy.

By John Rezell

Saturday mornings. Nothing else like 'em.

My love affair with Saturday mornings started during childhood. It was the time that my little brother and I got to drink coffee. Lord knows what my parents were thinking. Sleeping late certainly wasn't on their minds.
 
There we were, each Saturday morning, barely double-digit age, if that. Drinking sugar-coffee-and-milk and watching "The Bugs Bunny and Roadrunner Hour." 

Needless to say we didn't just sit and watch cartoons. Oh, we started just sitting, but soon we'd be bouncing off the walls. Sugar-Coffee-AND-Milk! Breakfast of champions. 

The early pick-me-up was followed with the nearly religious trip to the Bakery. Bright and early, Dad would round us up and head to the Bakery. He'd drop the paycheck there.

"A dozen long johns, a dozen crullers, a dozen French doughnuts, two dozen kaiser rolls, that cheesecake over there, a couple Elephant ears, ooooh, that apple strudel looks good, and how about streusel cake ..."

We'd leave with a couple of bags in each hand. Hit the car and bags were open. By the time we got home, well, time for more SUGAR-COFFEE-AND-MILK! 

Mom cooked brats for lunch. Life in Milwaukee. It's the best.

Graduation
 
Things changed in college. Saturday mornings were either for extreme recovery or, in the case of football Saturdays, a little of the hair-that-bit-ya. No matter what the course of action, it all started with, you guessed it, SugarCoffeeAndMilk. 

Once real life took hold, Saturday mornings evolved. As a sports writer, Friday evenings mean high school football or basketball, depending on the season. Saturday morning was in the office, rounding it all up. In the quiet newspaper offices that buzzed like a hornet's nest all week long, Saturday morning was special. Time to write. Time to relax. Time for SugarCoffeeAndMilk.

Now I have kids. Two little gals. Saturday mornings are our time. 

They give morning kisses that are sweet as sugar. 

They sniff — NOT SIP — Daddy's coffee. 

They drink milk, and we have a blast.

What's all this have to do with anything? Well, Saturday mornings will be quiet time for bike.com. Family time. And time for Raz. This is the debut of my weekly column. Check it out, Saturday mornings. Maybe over some coffee. 

Jack and Raz still hitting trails after 50 years.

Now it's storytime…
 
All in a name

Most of the people I know call me Raz. It's a nickname from childhood that sticks, mainly because everywhere I go there are always a couple of extra Johns around making life confusing.

A lot of nicknames have cool stories behind them. The story behind Raz is more embarrassing than anything. It all started with hero worship of runner Steve "Pre" Prefontaine.

He stood for everything I wanted to be. I wanted a nickname. My buddy Jack and I spent a whole summer working on it, bouncing on our trampoline. 

We tried a number of different options. With school around the corner, it came down to two finalists: Raz and Re.

I like to think that was my first brilliant editing choice. It would suck to have the nickname Re.

The long road

One more tidbit about background, and that's it. Next week we get into serious storytime.

How'd I get here, the ultimate cycling stop in the dot-com world?

It all started with newspapers and sports writing. First in the Midwest, then California. Did an eight-year stint with The Orange County Register. I covered all levels of sports, but watched a lot of young uns.

Orange County ain't a bad place to cover young athletes. I saw Tiger Woods swinging the clubs at 12, soccer star Juli Foudy at 13, Rob Johnson slinging the football and Miles Simon banging the hardwoods in their high school years.

I got to meet and got to know Hank Gathers. Saw Tommy Hearns box at the Forum. Interviewed the San Diego Chicken. And surfer Dino Andino. Watched Ty Detmer go crazy in the Holiday Bowl.

Basically, though, I had the best beat on the staff. I'd cover beach volleyball, surfing, triathlons and cycling. Great stuff.

I started a weekly cycling column at the OCR and went from there to freelance for three years covering cycling. It was a lot of time on the road, scrapping to get by, but some of the best memories I have of working days. 

Then I took the gig at VeloNews for three years, did the Colorado scene, and now I'm here.

My title is Director of the Sandbox. This is where we have fun, enjoy cycling and want to get you on your bike. Let me know what you think about anything, at anytime.

See ya Saturday morning.

RAZ'S PS: The column has morphed over the years. My ONWard columns like this one on OutdoorsNW.com were the latest incarnation, aside from what I've written on my own blogs. Those little gals I wrote about 20 years ago have flew the coop. But Saturday Mornings remain a special time I share with others.

Got No Job, But I've Got My Health

Four Veggies (left to right), me, Hoffie, Bergie and Bobo.

By John Rezell

An old high school friend popped up on Facebook the other day, in the midst of this craziness and uncertainty the world faces. He asked how I'm doing.

Without hesitation and a smile creeping across my face I replied, "Doing great here in Oregon!"

Hey, I'm an optimist. I actually call myself an obsessive optimist.

Like most I'm hunkered down at home with my wife and younger daughter. My older daughter thrives up in Washington. We're all in great health. In my mind, that equals doing great.

Then I thought about it a day or so later.

Truth is, the latest economic hiccup has spit me out again.

Lay Lady Layoff

I've been laid off as editor of an outdoor magazine that might survive through online life support for a few more weeks before it succumbs. A year ago the magazine cut its issues — and my salary — in half.

I started substitute teaching to fill the income gap, becoming one of those "need two jobs to earn the equivalent of one regular one." At this point Oregon schools are shutdown until April 28. Even the optimist in me believes schools won't reopen until September.

So my reality is that I'm unemployed, once again. No need to panic. We've been here before. My wife still has a good job. Like I said, I feel like we're doing great.

Now I'm 4-for-4 with financial crises. I've been victim of each of our economic upheavals in the past 20 years — each one kicking me to the curb from a great job that I loved.

It began with the dotcom crash of '00, which forced our internet startup to shutter. That one year in the trenches creating something from nothing was probably the greatest year of fun, growth and challenges in my working life.

I bounced back rather quickly with a neat job in corporate communications, hoping to get out of the sports writer pigeon hole where I spent most of my career. Our biggest client was a government contract. The economic aftermath of 9/11 forced them to eliminate my position.

The beauty of that job loss blossomed when my wife and I switched roles and I became Mr. Mom, a stay-at-home Dad. Without question that was the greatest job I'll ever have.

I managed to get back into the workforce with a nifty gig that allowed me to be Mr. Mom all day and work some nights as a copy editor for the local newspaper, while also writing a weekly outdoor column. Even though I was part-time, as a guild paper, the pay was sweet — and also the reason I was the first to hit the streets when the Great Recession fell upon us in '08.

That was a nasty one. My daughters just hit the age when we planned for both my wife and I to get to work with a double income. Instead, I spent two years unemployed. My wife also lost her job for a stint in there, leaving us with no jobs. But we survived just fine.

Never in Doubt

In all those cases it never felt like a desperate situation, much like today. Unless, of course, my wife loses her job, too. Then I might tone down the cheery disposition a pinch.

That, however, has been a theme throughout my life. Disappointment here, frustration there, but never enough to really dampen my spirit. As I titled my editor's note in my magazine: ONWard!

Take, for instance, when I published three ebooks in 2014. My goal was to supplement my income since I would soon face two daughters in college. I did my best to set myself up for some success, although I expected it to be modest.

Just as I released the books, not one but two editors of magazines who were going to publish excerpts as a favor to me and expose my books to a rather large audience left their positions. By the time replacements came aboard the window had passed and the new editors weren't interested in old favors.

So if you're bored as you hunker down, and are looking for some reading material, might I suggest my three ebooks?

If you think my strange career odyssey is an interesting read, you'll enjoy any of the three.

Combined they manage to chronicle my life, each a memoir piecing together relevant tales of my past. So here's a little summary in case you might be interested in reading one, two or all three (I'm assuming no one is that interested).

You Can't Cook a Dead Crab and Eat It

Wondering if this latest world crisis will inspire you to live the life you dream of? Then dig into this book.

It's the tale of how we decided for once to chart our own course instead of having job opportunities dictate where we live.

My wife and I quit our jobs (I was Mr. Mom, but also substitute teaching at my daughters' grade school), sold our house, had a month long moving sale to downsize, put the rest in storage and bought a 10-foot popup tent camper.

We spent the next 85 days living in that camper with our daughters ages 6 and 8. We toured the American West deciding where to plant our roots. It turned into as much of a National Parks tour as anything, but my daily journal chronicles the growth of all four of us across 8,000 miles and includes many a morning reminiscing about my past and how it made me who I am today.

More than anything, it taught my daughters that everyone has the ability to make your life what you want it to be. And it gave them fodder for every school essay for the rest of their lives.

Taken for a Ride: Chasing a Young Lance Armstrong

If you have ever wondered about the essence of the relationship between a sports reporter and an athlete — and the impact of it — this one's for you.

Frankly, this is a book that every first-year journalism student should read to understand the challenges of maintaining a professional relationship under the most trying circumstances.

It also gives an inside look into Armstrong as he emerged as one of the great American cyclists. It takes you into his battle with cancer — I was one of only three journalists granted an interview during chemotherapy — and his return.

It's not all seashells and balloons.

I did land on Armstrong's dark side, which means you no longer exist in his reality. He didn't talk to me for a year.

But I did find a way to return to the light — at the time his agent telling me I was the only person to ever manage that feat.

Not only that, Armstrong once actually told me during an interview when I was a freelancer on the road, "We shouldn’t be doing a story on me, we should be doing a story on you."

Whatever you think of Armstrong now that we know most of the truth, my relationship with him had a huge impact on my life and that's something that rewriting history can't change.

A More Simple Time: How Cycling Saved My Soul

This is my tribute to amazing people who made the sport of cycling what it was in what I consider its Golden Age, from 1989-1996.

I managed to get close to two incredible humans, Linda Brenneman and Steve Hegg, and their journeys to the 1996 Olympics parallel my growth as a reporter, husband and man.

I started covering cycling at a time when my foundation as an optimist and dreamer had been severely challenged by the tragic death of another athlete I covered and knew quite well, Hank Gathers. Eventually the cycling community filled with athletes competing for love of the sport, not insane riches, saved me.

It also stands as a historical look at racing in America during that time with accounts from many of the top races and insight into many of the top men and women cyclists of the time with particular focus on the battles to earn spots on the 1996 Olympic team to compete in Atlanta. And it reveals the only athlete I ever asked for an autograph. I'm sure who it is will surprise most readers.

In its original form, the Lance Armstrong story was in this book, but I decided that his story shouldn't overshadow the real story of how the rest of the wonderful cyclists in America saved my soul.

They are available at BarnesandNoble.com, Smashwords and iTunes