You’ve probably seen the video for the picture above (if not, it’s here, along with the story). It’s the one where the Oakland Raiders employee John Herrera completely forgets about this thingy called Youtube and tries to dismember San Jose Mercury-News columnist Tim Kawakami. Not only was Mr. Herrera out of line, but his actions made me remember another awkward press conference incident.

One that happened to me.

Flash back to the winter of 2006. Saturday, February 25th, Assembly Hall in Indiana …

I was a reporter for a Louisville TV station traveling to Bloomington for the Hoosiers game against Iowa. But this was to be no ordinary game: Rumors were flowing about then-head coach Mike Davis - he told the team he’s resigning at the end of the year; he’s already resigned;  he wasn’t going to coach the game; he was replacing Don Rumsfeld (ok, not that one). Heck, we couldn’t even get confirmation from the sports information staff where Davis was, only to find out minutes before tip off Mike was “sick” and wouldn’t attend; an assistant would coach the team.

Yes, sick. And Iraq had weapons of mass destruction. But I digress.

Anyhow, Iowa wins at tight game, and we head to the post-game news conference. I reported, but also shot the game (and post-game interviews), so my questions all come from the back-of-the-room riser (don’t worry - it’ll mean something later). Up comes Iowa coach Steve Alford to the podium and, well, you should have an indication of where this goes.

After the jump, when crazy fans go insane on the press.

So everyone fires questions about the game to Alford. And I’m thinking the one thing everyone is: Who’s going to ask the question about the IU job? We all knew Davis was likely gone by the end of the season; heck, since no one knew if Davis was sick, resigned, fired, vacationing in the Sudan, or packing Christmas gifts in the North Pole - the job might be open this minute. So I pulled the arrow from the quiver and fired.

“Coach Alford,” I said from the camera riser, “If the IU job is open, are you a candidate?”

“Aww,” Alford said, “I don’t talk about hypotheticals”.

Fair answer from Alford - he knew how to play the game, and we at least got the question in, with an answer. And with that, he ended the press conference.

But when I asked the question, I noticed a man in a red sweater, sitting in the back row of the media room (but just ahead of the camera risers I was on) quickly swivel his head towards me. At the time, I paid no attention. But I would later.

Next in was assistant coach Donnie Marsh, who had the unfortunate task of not only filling in for Davis on the bench, but taking questions for the post-game press conference. To be fair, Marsh answered all of them about as well as he could (under the circumstances), but after around six questions in no one had asked if Davis was still with Indiana (or really anything about the situation). So I fired again.

“Coach, is Mike Davis still the head coach of Indiana University?”

“As far as I know,” Marsh said “Yes”.

“And he’ll be coaching Tuesday night at Penn State?”

“As far as I know, yes”.

Of course, as a journalist, when you hear something like “As far as I know”, you’re a tad leery - if the guy is still the head coach, you’d expect a more definite answer. So I asked one more.

“Coach Marsh, what is coach Davis ill with?”

“I’m not really sure - I didn’t talk to him about it”.

This is the point where the entire room should have called shenanigans - the coach who fills in for the sick guy doesn’t know what the head man is ill with? Didn’t they talk?

But then the press conference ended, and, I thought, the drama of the day.

Boy, was I in for a surprise.

Thermocaster was with me that day - he told me after every question to Marsh our favorite head swiveler kept swinging his noggin back to me. Each time I asked a question he gave a meaner look, until the point it seemed his head would soon explode. So, knowing this now, I shouldn’t be surprised what he said when I got off the riser and started to take my camera off its tripod.

“I didn’t realize shooters could ask questions you jerk!” (note for non-tv folks: Shooter is swivel-head man’s lingo for photographer).

And then the fun began.

Bubba head swiveler was older, an alumni-looking type wearing a red sweater with the IU logo from the 90’s, and a face nearly as crimson as the Hoosier colors. I whipped around and sternly told him everyone in the media was thinking the questions I asked, and that everyone in the room - even photographers - was a real journalist and could ask questions at any press conference at any time.

So he fired back a zinger.

“Not questions THAT stupid!”

Of course, a statement that brilliant deserved a quality response: I politely screamed at him (loud enough for the whole room) to get his head out of his bee-hind (or something close to that language; you can fill in the blanks), that EVERYONE was thinking what I asked. And as I was about to dig in again, a security guard blared “Calm it down or I’m booting both of you from the room”.

Since I still had a job to do - unlike yokel Bob-o - I got quiet. He did too.

After the scene calmed, a number of my friends in the Louisville and Indianapolis media came over to needle me. A friend at the ABC in Indianapolis said he video of it all, but never showed me, and never posted it anywhere.

As for the man, a few people told me he was a booster for Indiana, which does not in any way explain why the University allowed him in the media room. I emailed and left a message for the sports information director at the time, but never received anything back; I expected at least a call from IU explaining who the man was and why they allowed someone to heckle inside the press conference, but nothing of that sort came.

Anyhow, that’s over 2-1/2 years ago. When I saw the video, Tim, I thought of me … and John Herrera was a cranky old man in a red sweatshirt. You handled yourself well. I’ll call you next time you need help handling any other team or university employees at a press conference (hehe).