Austin Anderson
Austin Anderson is a national award winning and internationally published journalist who once pretended to button up his tuxedo to appear natural in a photo. He’s written for Sporting News, Meredith Corp. and more. Anderson is a graduate of Iowa State, where he held roles ranging from an editor for the Iowa State Daily to twice hosting the largest student run fashion show in the country in front of a sold out crowd. He can be reached at ByAustinAnderson@gmail.com.
From farmer to chart topper, country music singer Logan Mize is doing it his way
Logan Mize is running late. Not the “I’m a rock star, the world runs on my clock” kind of late, but rather the “can’t find a taxi in the entire city” kind.
It’s a rainy night in early October. He’s fresh off a 6-mile run, 20 minutes late to his “Meat & Greet” event, and decides to resort to an Uber ride that takes him through the heart of Iowa City before dropping him in front of the venue where he performs in an hour and a half.
Up the creaky wooden stairs of the Blue Moose Tap House, standing on a black-and-white checkered floor at the meet and greet, below a leaking ceiling with a missing tile and a red vintage Budweiser chandelier, Logan Mize holds a plate of hot dogs.
“You want ketchup on it?” he asks.
Unbroken: Tragedies can’t deter Iowa State’s Matt Thomas
Martha Thomas didn’t understand it. Nobody in her family did. She didn’t understand why in the middle of her shift as a nurse, her manager came to her desk and took Martha downstairs. She didn’t recognize the two cops there, or the detective who was waiting for her. She did, however, know the sheriff. He was the father of one of her son Matt’s best friends. She also recognized the sheriff’s wife. But why was she there? Why were any of these people there? “It just didn’t click,” Martha said.
“Your kids are fine,” were the first words anybody said. “Your kids are safe.” Relief, but not an answer. Martha could tell the reason everyone gathered in the room wasn’t going to be a good one. It was obvious. She could see it in their faces.
She was right.
Tears, a promise and a picture propel Haylee Young to National Championship
It was 5:20 a.m. in Marietta, Georgia, and 10-year-old Haylee Young wasn’t in bed. The sky was pitch black, and the sun still had more than an hour before coming out for the day, but Young started hers 20 minutes ago. She sat in the kitchen eating breakfast with a few minutes to finish before she hopped in the car with her mom, Fran, like she did every Monday, Wednesday and Friday for the next three years.
A 25-minute drive to Kennesaw, Georgia was in front of them and she could not be late. She’d kept herself together thus far, mostly because the morning was so frantic and she hadn’t had time to think about what she was about to go through. But now, with the nervous anticipation of 6 a.m. gymnastics practice looming, Young did what she did every early morning before practice. She cried her eyes out.
Austin Anderson 