My dad's name is Matt. He was a 125-pound defensive end on his high school football team, and as far as I know, he's never so much as stepped foot in a Little League dugout. Although he can throw a mean Wiffle ball, my dad looks more like Alex Trebek at the plate than Alex Rodriguez.
Why am I telling you this? Well it's not because my dad has decided to use his extra years of eligibility to show up Chris Long on the Cavalier defensive line (I wish). Instead, it's because that 40-something high school math teacher is the original Mr. O'Connor. Always has been, always will be. Since I've been at U.Va., however, I've been hearing rumors about a different Mr. O'Connor, a man who it seems got the lion's share of the athletic talent floating around the pasty-white Irish gene pool.
Brian O'Connor (no relation, I swear) is the best thing to happen to Virginia baseball since some anonymous donor -- who may or may not have written a handful of legal thrillers -- built the program a slick new ballpark back in 2002.
A former pitching stud at Creighton University, O'Connor spent time as an assistant coach at Notre Dame before being given the keys to the Wahoo program back in 2003.
Since being installed in the Virginia dugout, O'Connor has taken it upon himself to dial up the intensity. I'm talking way up. In a sport where most managers look like Dick Cheney in pinstripes, Virginia's coach could easily be mistaken for the next guy on deck. When he's not mixing it up with whatever umpire might be in his way (rumor has it he once had three separate arguments with three separate umpires in the first three innings of a game) O'Connor keeps his men on their toes.
"[The coaches are] intense guys," former captain Mike Ballard told The Sabre back in 2006. "They get after it and they get us going. They get the best out of all of their players and you just love to be around something like that."
Although this might sound like typical praise for an up-and-coming coach, one thing about O'Connor is about as rare as a blue moon. The media seems to love him.
Although O'Connor is never one to mince words or go easy on even the most unsuspecting questioners (he once asked a suit-wearing reporter, "Where are you going, prom?") sportswriters seem to enjoy interviewing Virginia's skipper -- and this coming from a group of people who consider it a good day if they can make Al Groh cry at his weekly press conference (just kidding).
Alright, so the players love O'Connor, the sportswriters appear to like him, who could possibly be left? The fans. Although they could care less about his intensity in practice or his arsenal of "O'Connorisms," baseball followers are suckers for numbers -- and recently they've gotten some pretty big ones to chew on. Since he arrived in Charlottesville, O'Connor has become the quickest baseball coach in school history to amass 100 career wins. Add that to the fact that his teams have had three 40-win seasons, three straight trips to NCAA regionals, a second-place finish in the ACC and an appearance in the ACC Tournament championship game and you've got one of the most meteoric rises in baseball since Roy Hobbes in "The Natural."
As a result, and because people actually like watching teams that win, attendance records at Davenport have been shattered in recent years. Last spring, for example, the Hoos packed a record 2,600 fans into (and around and behind) the Davenport seats.
As Cavalier baseball alumnus Chris Kughn, a first team All-ACC selection back in 1989, told The Sabre, "I remember the only time we had 2,000 fans at a game is when we gave away free Cokes and hotdogs. Now they are charging admission for the games ... Heck, I can't even purchase season tickets because they are sold out!"
One of O'Connor's challenges in the coming years will be to keep in touch with his growing list of MLB alumni. With alumni Ryan Zimmerman (2005) -- the one bright spot on the Nationals' roster -- and the stellar play of Sean Doolittle who would like to take his game to the 'Big Show,' Virginia is about to be shown a lot more love at the next level.
In the meantime, I'll be cashing in on the Cavaliers' success by selling my own set of "Sound like coach O'Connor" Mad-Libs (example: [confidence/hitting/baseball/life] is a funny thing...) and resigning myself to the fact that I will never be the big Irishman on campus. I guess that's O'Life.