Crew is a little different. Here's a story that proves it.

The tale involves crews from Washington, Washington State and Western Washington working together to get their shells to New Jersey this week for the NCAA rowing championships.

I'm pretty sure this level of cooperation would never happen in, say, football.

The story came Friday via an email from Western Washington sports information. Both the NCAA Division I and II championships are in New Jersey, so UW women's crew coach Bob Ernst planned to drive Western coach John Fuchs' truck and trailer last week, hauling the shells for both schools to the East Coast. Fuchs would drive them home.

But the plan went awry in Montana. Fuchs' truck broke down, and the dealer could not make the repairs soon enough. What to do?

Ernst called Washington State's crew coach, whose team did not qualify for nationals. The WSU coach drove the Cougars' truck to Montana and handed the keys to Ernst, who continued the final leg of the trip to New Jersey.

"So we had the UW coach driving a WSU truck hauling a WWU trailer," said Western Washington athletic director Lynda Goodrich in the email. "That’s what I call teamwork and a good example of the state’s universities working together."

Western and UW women's crews rowed this morning. All three of the Huskies' boats advanced to Saturday's semifinals of the NCAA Division I championships on Lake Mercer. Both the Vikings fours and eights lost opening heats of the nearby NCAA II championships, and row in Saturday's repechage heats.

No matter, everyone came out a winner just getting to New Jersey.

Maybe this feel-good story of UW, WSU and Western helping each other for the greater good can be reprinted next fall during Apple Cup week.

If you'd like to write a Take 2 post, email Sports Editor Don Shelton at dshelton@seattletimes.com or sports@seattletimes.com

Todd MacCulloch is very large and very nice.

So are his Man Caves.

The former Washington and NBA center invited me and several of my coworkers over to his house on Bainbridge Island this week to do a live chat. And as the door opened a big man with a big smile greeted us.

It was MacCulloch, all 7 feet of him. Everything is bigger than life about him.

"Thanks for coming over," he says as he ducks to avoid hitting his head in the doorway and we follow him into his house.

We walk past his kitchen, and we're there. His Man Cave. A dozen or so pinball machines are lined up against each wall. I can't take my eyes off them.

"Wow! This really is the ultimate Man Cave!" I hear myself saying.

Then he motions to another room, with another dozen or so pinball machines.

"Wow!"

He turns on a couple of machines. And as my coworkers begin setting up their computers for the live chat, he sees me staring at his pinball machines. The lights blink hypnotically.

"You should play," I hear MacCulloch say.

My eyes are glassy. My knees are weak. Time stands still.

I am a recovering pinball-a-holic. I like to tell people that I spent more money on pinball and beer as an undergraduate at the University of Idaho than I did on tuition.

People always laugh. They don't realize I'm dead serious.

So I test the flippers, draw back the plunger and watch the silver ball begin to work its magic.

Forgive me, but I don't remember a lot of what happened for the next 90 minutes. I know I played a game of pinball, and MacCulloch, who is a world-ranked pinball player, gave me some pointers. We had a live chat. He talked. The pinball machines blinked and made funny noises. It's all a blur.

MacCulloch is as cool as he is large. He has two cute cocker spaniels, two cuter kids, a very nice wife and a very nice place on two acres on Bainbridge Island.

Did I mention his two Man Caves?

He's smart, funny and can quote lines from "Dumb and Dumber," one of my favorite movies ever. How cool is that? Oh, and he has a Slurpee machine. And a kegerator.

Todd (we're on a first-name basis now) pretty much has two of everything.

During the live chat, amid the blinking lights of Pinball Heaven, he mentions that we'll have to go to his addition to see his game room? "Game room?" I think to myself. "Where the heck are we sitting?"

Todd excuses himself to take a phone call during the chat and talks to a repairman parked outside. "That was the Slurpee Technician," pronounces the native of Winnipeg. "We can have our Slurpees now. Canadian Slurpees, not American Slurpees. No air in them. Just sugar and water."

This day has already been pretty much the best day at work I can remember. We hit the ferry line just as it was loading. We saw the greatest Man Caves on Earth, and I played pinball. Now we're going to his Game Room to have Slurpees? My head is spinning.

And so we stroll over to see Todd's Game Room. Actually, Todd's Game Addition. It probably has more square footage than my house. And it's filled with all kinds of cool games. Skee-Ball. Air Hockey. And some vintage games that I didn't know existed.

I play a baseball game manufactured between 1937 and 1941 that he says is the most valuable game he owns. It's polished wood in a glass case. I swing a metal bat at a silver ball. Just like in high school, I have trouble getting around on the fastball, but eventually I rack up singles, doubles, triples and even a home run. Todd cheers me on. The figure who's pitching is Dizzy Dean. The exquisitely painted fielders are a Hall of Fame who's who that includes Bill Terry and Ted Williams,

Then we're drinking lemon-lime and Dr. Pepper slurpees. I had a Dr Pepper in a red cup.

"This is great," I hear myself saying between sips, ignoring a brain freeze. "Can I live here? Can you adopt me?"

Todd is too cool to kick me out of his house. He laughs. It's a big laugh, of course.

"Sure," he says. "We'll adopt you."

As we're leaving I have this strange sensation that the day really isn't happening. It has to be a dream. That feeling stays with me as we hit the Bainbridge Ferry - only minutes before it loads, of course.

No, this is real. I suck on the last bit of Slurpee to make sure as we ride on the ferry and relive My Greatest Work Day Ever with Bob and Amy, our sports producers. Amy checks her phone and mentions that the Mariners have loaded the bases with Alex Liddi at the plate. I turn on my car radio. I turn the knob and the radio crackles on just as Rick Rizzs is screaming: "Grand Salami time!"

This can't be real. No way.

As we sail back to Seattle, I taste the last drop of Dr Pepper Slurpee.

Sweet.

If you'd like to write a Take 2 post, email Sports Editor Don Shelton at dshelton@seattletimes.com or sports@seattletimes.com

Someone scanned the old Sonics logo on a T-shirt and placed the iconic image of the Seattle skyline (minus the Space Needle) and a basketball above the words OKC Thunder. In powder blue script, the back of the white shirt reads: Thank you Seattle – OKC.

Well, you’re welcome.

What, you were expecting a different reaction?

The time for mock disgust and attempts to ridicule Oklahomans are over. That’s unproductive and moronic, much like a T-shirt that tries to take a shot at a city that was loyal to its team for 41 years. Then owner Howard Schultz sold the Sonics to an out-of-state investor, and budget-conscious local politicians allowed Clay Bennett to move the franchise to Oklahoma City before its lease with the city of Seattle expired.

It’s time to move on. It does no one any good to engage in faux battles of civic pride with a T-shirt vendor looking to earn a few bucks or Thunder fans rightfully excited about their team. Unconfirmed reports Monday said that the company has pulled the T-shirt from its website after receiving death threats.

Admittedly it’s weird watching two-time scoring champion Kevin Durant, the former NBA Rookie of the Year winner with the Sonics, carry the Thunder to the verge of a second straight trip to the Western Conference finals.

How much fun would it have been to watch him develop the past four years in a green and gold jersey? The same goes with rising young stars Russell Westbrook and James Harden. And no one around here has forgotten Nick Collison, the reserve forward and fan favorite who still lives in the Puget Sound area.

We got dumped and we’re trying to move on after a bitter breakup. We’re focusing on putting a plan in place to fund the building in Sodo District arena in hopes of luring the NBA back to the Emerald City.

So if you really want to thank us, OKC, tell Bennett -- the head of the NBA relocation committee -- to help send a team our way.

By the time I was about 10, I had a good idea that I was never going to be a professional athlete.

But I did have a dream job: being the handicapper for The Seattle Times.

My father got me interested in horse racing when I was about 8. He would have me crunch numbers for races at Longacres in Renton, using a system he had devised (it wasn't good enough for him to leave his day job).

My mom still gets mad at my dad for getting me hooked on the races.

But hooked I was. I loved handicapping and going to the races. And 38 years later, I am living my dream.

I am the Seattle Times handicapper.

I am also the golf writer and a full-time copy editor, so it's not exactly how I dreamed it. But when the handicapping position came open this spring, I followed my heart and asked if I could do it.

My wife wondered where I would find the time. When one of your first loves comes calling, you find the time.

I fretted for a few weeks before the April 13 season opener. It had sounded like such a great idea to be the handicapper, but then reality struck: Everyone is going to see my picks. Before when I had a bad day, I could keep the embarrassment to myself. Not anymore.

I can't describe how relieved I was when my first pick of the season, Allison Ridge, won. I had the next winner too, and I picked 12 of 26 winners the first week. There is a unique feeling of satisfaction seeing a race play out exactly as you had envisioned.

Could it really be this easy? No. It's never that simple in this sport.

I picked one winner on last Friday's card and one winner on Saturday. I didn't wager on the races, but seeing my public picks win two of 16 races was worse than losing money.

If only I had picked Ex Hostess to win Friday instead of picking her second after much internal debate: That was a 17-1 winner I could have had.

But mostly, I am having fun. I've never lost my love for handicapping, but it's different now.I can't wait for each week's races. It's like it was when I was 10.

It's the feeling you get when you're living your dream.

There’s a certain rhythm to the seasons as each year begins.

It starts with the Rose Bowl Game being played under Pasadena’s warm and sunny skies on the first day of the year.

It’s soon followed by the groundhog seeing his shadow, pitchers and catchers reporting to spring training, and the swallows returning to Capistrano.

Spring is coming!

And nothing quite says spring as does opening day of a new baseball season.

Thinking of opening day brings thoughts of sunshine, lame excuses to skip work (“Grandma’s Funeral”), and the tradition of fathers taking their sons to the ballpark, as their fathers took them when they were boys.

Cincinnati, the birthplace of professional baseball, used to have the honor of being the lone game on opening day. The good people of that city long ago understood their priorities and shut the schools down on that day, just so kids could go to the ballpark without having to cut class in the process.

No game honors its traditions like baseball.

Or at least it used to.

We have long watched many of the game’s storied traditions kicked to the curb, under the watchful (avaricious) eye of Commissioner Bud $elig, all in his quest to enrich the owners of the sport, and all to the detriment of the fans.

His offenses are many, including, but not limited to … interleague play (which will expand exponentially next season with the inclusion of Houston to the American League) and its inherent competitive unfairness; Sunday night baseball games; the complete abandonment of daytime World Series games; the abolition of doubleheaders; the promotion and inclusion of Frank McCourt as owner of the Dodgers; and the introduction (and now expansion) of rewarding non-division winning teams, aka the Wild Card.

And who can ever forget that 1994 World Series?

Now this.

Last month the commissioner saw fit to have the baseball season open 10 days ahead of time, in a land far away, in the middle of the night, so far from the spotlight that opening day deserves.

In the name of "growing the brand" of Major League Baseball, Selig took a sackful of Japanese cash and allowed the sport to be degraded and denigrated by having the Seattle Mariners and Oakland A’s serve as novelty acts when they played a pair of games in Tokyo. A week later, the Mariners and A's replayed the opener again, this time in Oakland. And Friday, guess which two teams are playing in the Mariners home opener? That's right: Seattle and Oakland.

For all that is good and right and virtuous about the game, I say trading away one of its signature events for money is nothing short of a form of prostitution.

And if that is so, that makes the commissioner a pimp.

Editor's note: Alex Paris, a Take 2 contributor during Mariners spring training, offers final thoughts and a video.

This spring training season I got to interview major league baseball players, coaches, announcers, and fans.

I spoke Spanish with Felix Hernandez. I played catch with Miguel Olivo. I got to yell home-run calls with Rick Rizzs. I got baseballs thrown at me by Brandon League. I got the nickname "Rachel" (Nichols, the ESPN reporter). I played hostess to the 2012 Mariners Awards. I used a fake microphone and got made fun of for it.

These and countless others are events that made this spring the greatest experience in reporting I've had to date. I urge others to apply for this program next year, because you will not only learn valuable lessons, fashion a great reel of videos and build important connections, you will also make countless friends and create lasting memories.

I would like to take this final opportunity to thank all of the people who have helped me make it through the past 6 weeks. First off, Jon Kingston, my PIC in reporting, I couldn't have made it to the stadium without you.

Jose Romero, my teacher, mentor and peer, who helped me with everything from etiquette to story ideas.

In media relations a big thank you to Tim, Fernando, Jeff and Kelly, who were more than happy to answer my onslaught of never ending questions.

To the Seattle Times, thank you for your willingness to help me learn and gain this once in a lifetime experience.

To the Mariners staff, thank you for entertaining, updating and supporting me this spring.

For making this entire experience possible I would like to send a big thank you to Arizona State and the Walter Cronkite School, thank you for being behind us and our educations 100% of the way.

Finally to the Mariners team, I literally couldn't have done my interviews without you all. Thank you for being so professional, friendly, and helpful in my reporting experience.

I learned so much from everyone, while making friends and having the greatest time beyond anything I could have imagined.

In her last video story of spring training, Nikki Camarillo shares some things she learned from covering the Mariners.

Editor's note: Take 2's Jon Kingston saw his spring training experience as a reporter end Wednesday. He filed this final post, in hopes of one day catching a game at Safeco Field.

Looking back on my six weeks covering the Mariners this spring, I have to say I'm going to miss this team and the many people associated with it. It went by so fast, but I'll never forget the opportunity and experience I gained.

I always have and always will be a Chicago Cubs fan, but being around this team and these players this spring has absolutely turned a small part of me into a Mariners fan. There really isn't a bad guy in this group, and the personalities of Brendan Ryan, Shawn Kelley, Munenori Kawasaki, and Brandon League just to name a few, made the clubhouse a great place to be around.

Everyone on the coaching staff from manager Eric Wedge down to bullpen catcher Jason Phillips was great to deal with as well. They were never too busy or bothered to spend a couple minutes talking to any of us Arizona State students, and I think that says a lot about what this team is about and the type of ship they run.

I can't leave out the media relations staff and everyone with the Seattle Times that helped me out with anything I needed along the way. You guys are the best.

Lastly I want to say thanks to all of the readers who supported us this spring. Your loyalty and feedback is what this whole experience was about. Thanks!

Editor's note: Arizona State University's Megan Stewart penned her final post of spring training Tuesday. 

Reporting for the Mariners this spring has been an amazing, yet stressful opportunity.

For example, I got tongue-tied around Jesus Montero (in photo), blushed like crazy every time I had to go in the locker room and my computer froze and lost the first draft of this post. Moreover, I got strep throat, lost my voice recorder and a rock cracked my windshield on the highway while going to training one morning.

(Photos by Evie Carpenter)

I had to be up by 5:30 a.m., most Tuesdays, Thursdays, and every other Friday, after laying awake all night wondering what I should write about.

I risked looking like an idiot every day. Sometimes I had to wait for hours in the hot sun waiting for an interview that never happened. Once when I wasn't paying attention, I almost got hit by a fly ball on the practice fields, causing many players to yell 'Heads up!' and quite a few people to shake their heads.

Before the Mariners even got to Arizona I had a two-hour long class that met twice a week starting in January to prepare. Every single story I wrote and every picture Evie Carpenter  posted had the potential for a lawsuit to be filed by MLB. Every interview question I asked had the potential to be the stupidest question my interviewee had ever heard.

I overindulged at the Cheesecake Factory on multiple occasions just because it was so close to where the Mariners train in Peoria, and I would get so hungry after such long days.

The list goes on and on.

But I also learned more in this month and a half than I have learned for three years in classrooms. The life experience and real-world reporting knowledge I have gained puts my nearly $90,000 in tuition money to shame.

Megan Stewart (right) on one of her many interviews during spring training, talking to ROOT Sports' Angie Mentink.

I got over my stage fright and the strep throat. I learned to ask questions that produce thought-provoking answers. The first draft of this post was terrible. And losing my voice recorder forced me to clean my room.

I learned its way more beneficial waking up at 5:30 a.m. than it is at noon (shocker).

I only looked like an idiot sometimes, less and less as spring training went on if I do say so myself. I got a nice face tan and got to watch professional baseball on an intimate level each day. Players began to recognize me and gave me the interviews I needed.

Best of all, no lawsuits were filed by MLB!

While I still have another year of school to pay for and my windshield still isn't fixed, I learned that for every problem there is an answer and for every article written there is a story behind it.

Thank you to my teacher, editor and mentor Jose Romero for teaching me the most about journalism I have learned so far in my 20 (almost 21!) years and thank you to the Seattle Times and the Mariners for being a part of my experience.

Editor's note: Take 2 photographer Evie Carpenter bids farewell to her experience covering spring training with her five favorite photos.