624 Chapters
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Indiana VS. Notre Dame, 12-17-11 (69-58)

The Herald-Times Indiana University Press ePub

Indiana Hoosiers guard Victor Oladipo (4) drives the ball on Notre Dame Fighting Irish guard Jerian Grant (22) during the Indiana Notre Dame men’s basketball game at Conseco Fieldhouse in game two of the Close the Gap Crossroads Classic in Indianapolis, Ind., Saturday, Dec. 17, 2011.

By Dustin Dopirak

Tom Crean doesn’t know what Derek Elston was thinking, and it’s hard to imagine anyone else could come up with a logical explanation either.

With the Hoosiers in a mad dash to get the ball down the floor for one more shot at the end of the first half of Saturday’s game against Notre Dame, Elston pulled up from about half-court for a desperation heave. That would’ve been fine if there weren’t 4.5 seconds still left on the clock.

But on a play that was strangely indicative of Indiana’s entire day, freshman guard Remy Abell bolted under the bucket and put back Elston’s wild miss at the buzzer to give Indiana a 26-20 lead at the half.

“Maybe he saw what Christian (Watford) saw last week with 0.8,” Crean said, referring to Watford’s buzzer-beater that knocked off No. 1 Kentucky. “I don’t know. It looked more to me like it said 4.5 or somewhere in there, and he didn’t see that. But the presence of mind of Remy was just fantastic.”

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Medium 9780976751649

Samuel R. McKelvie National Forest, Nebraska

Fred Dow Moon Canyon Publishing PDF

Samuel R. McKelvie National Forest


Samuel R. McKelvie National Forest


The Samuel R. McKelvie National Forest is located in northwestern Nebraska and is comprised of

115,960 acres. There is one developed campground which meets the selection criteria.

While the Merritt Reservoir offers visitors to the Samuel R. McKelvie National Forest a variety of water recreation opportunities, the Forest's only developed campground provides a quiet, restful place for enjoying nature. As an alternative to the hurly-burly activity on the Reservoir, the serene, secluded Steer Creek campground is a delight. It is located in 2,200 acres of man-planted conifers, surrounded by sand hills and the prairie. The only sounds that interrupt the stillness are a nearby herd of cattle, the song of a meadowlark, and the whisper of a breeze through the pines. The evening brings the crackle of campfires and millions of stars shining brightly.

Although small when compared to most National Forests, the Samuel R. McKelvie National Forest provides its visitors with the delightful experience of total peacefulness. The quiet and tranquility of the Steer Creek campground, so close to some of the best fishing in Nebraska, will make the

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Medium 9781574416527

Chapter 8 - Outlaw vs. Outlaw (1954–1959)

Mitchel P. Roth University of North Texas Press ePub

“There are fewer and fewer real cowboys among the convicts.”

—Lee Simmons, 1956

DEEP in the shadow of rising juvenile crime rates, the Communist menace, the Korean War, and evangelical fervor sweeping the South, the 1950s witnessed a concerted effort by religious groups to end or change the day of the Sunday TPR. At the annual meeting of the Gonzales Baptist Association in 1952, a resolution was passed and sent to Governor Shivers, the Board of Prisons, and Superintendent of Huntsville State Penitentiary stating: “Be it further resolved: That we as a group of Baptists believing in the holiness and hallowness of the Lord's Day are utterly and definitely opposed to opening of the gates of the State Penitentiary at Huntsville, or any other prison grounds in the State of Texas, on the Lord's Day to admit the thousands of people to be entertained by public patronized amusements or any other form of sports.”1 This letter was far from the end of it.

In June a general contractor from Dallas named D.B. Lewis queried the governor, “I wonder if you would tell me what your attitude is toward the continuance of the Sunday Prison Rodeo which has been conducted for the past several years in Texas?” The letter writer invoked the usual comments about the sanctity of Sundays, but made it more clear who his wrath was directed toward, noting “Such things as the Sunday Prison Rodeo staged by some of our worse [sic] criminals only has a tendency to present such characters to our youth as heroes, when as a matter of fact they are not, [sic] should be stopped.” The contractor finished his screed noting how “Our better institutions of learning have refrained from staging their athletic events on the Lord's Day, and it is sincerely hoped that…our State will decide that there is more honor in keeping things honorable than the thought of a few paltry dollars from a Sunday Rodeo.”2

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Medium 9781574414615


Ron Tatum University of North Texas Press ePub


After the operation on my arm, and a short period of physical therapy, I was briefly forced into a fitness center for what the doctor said was a “more thorough recovery.”

I had never been able to see the value of a fitness center, maybe because I’ve always been in pretty good shape, thanks to my dad who had me doing 100 pushups a day and other exercises from the third grade on. My boyhood room was a huge unfinished attic and at one end he had made a gym for me. The floor was bare boards that didn’t even reach the walls. There was a gap of about three inches where the floor tried to meet the wall, and if you ever dropped a toy down there, it was gone forever, into the bowels of the earth, I thought. Behind the darkened chimney in the corner was where the monsters lived. One did not even look in that direction come bedtime. The gym had weights, a wrestling mat, a huge body bag for punching, and a thick rope that rose to the unfinished rafters above the mat, crossed the entire room, and dropped down on the upper bunk where I slept in a tiny civilized section of the room. The bedroom part had a tiny rug, a tiny desk and chair, and my bunk bed. I was supposed to climb up the rope at the far end of the room, climb hand over hand to my upper bunk, and lower myself to bed at night. In the morning, I was to reverse the process, climb up from my bed, cross hand over hand to the other end, lower myself to the mat, go downstairs, eat breakfast, and go off to school, a splendid physical specimen of a third grader.

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Medium 9781741790177

Tongariro, Urewera & Central North Island

Lonely Planet Lonely Planet ePub

Tongariro, Urewera & Central North Island

From the spare, volcanic landscape of Tongariro National Park to the dense, mountainous forests of Te Urewera, the central region of the North Island contains diverse and rewarding tramping terrain.

Relatively close as the crow flies, two national parks and two forest parks offer visitors an opportunity to tick off many classic New Zealand wilderness experiences: summit a bald, volcanic peak rent with steaming vents, then stride down a scree slope; visit a historic tramping hut, now converted into a mini-museum; traverse an open ridge with nonstop views, then loop back through a valley following an ever-changing river bed; spend several days skirting a bluff-lined lakeshore, deep in an untouched wilderness; row a boat across a pristine lake, to a hut where you can spend the night; explore ancient forest, internationally recognised for its unique ecological make-up; and see the landscape through the eyes of both Maori and Pakeha, whose stories are retold along the way.

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