Remembering ex-partner Hubert Mizell’s impact

by Gary Shelton on March 4, 2016 · 2 comments

in College Sports in Florida, general, Tampa Bay Bucs, Tampa Bay Lightning, Tampa Bay Rays

Friday, 6 a.m.

The newspaper clippings — the fossils of a bygone era — were faded and yellow, the droppings of a more literate era. Most of them had long given way to film, and then to digital files. Only these remained.

For some reason, they were in the desk I was cleaning out a couple of years ago after all of these years. Nice pieces. Average pieces. Memorable ones. Ones to get a writer through the day. I lingered on the print, which had come out about the time I had decided to get into this business.

And then one caught my eye.

It was praise for columnist Hubert Mizell, which he used to get a lot. To his final day on earth, everyone liked Hubert. There

Content beyond this point is for members only.

Already a member? To view the rest of this column, sign in using the handy "Sign In" button located in the upper right corner of the blog (its at the far right of the navigation bar under Gary's photo)!

Not a member? It's easy to subscribe so you can view the rest of this column and all other premium content on

was a warmth in what he wrote that was lacking in my own copy, a kinship, a trust. Hubert was a kind old uncle that everyone invited to breakfast. I used to joke that he could run for politics in town; I'd have to run for the border.

This letter to the editor wasn't that unusual. It praised Hubert's perspective. It talked about his kindness, and his level of understanding. The writer said that Hubert grasped things about him that no one else could grasp.

It was signed “O.J. Simpson, Buffalo, New York.”

Yeah, everyone liked Hubert.

He was here when I got here, and for some reason, I always felt that Hubert would be here when I left. He was a large man, a boisterous man. But there was a kindness to the way he wrote that made him approachable. Most of sports columnists never find that; I rarely did. Everyone called Hubert by his first name. There was nothing formal about Hubert. He was the guy in the paper. Just that, and all of that.

Columnists were bigger in his day. There was no all-reaching internet, no multitude of sports networks. These days, a guy can cover a team from half the world away. That amazed Hubert as much as anyone. He was a guy who wanted to be there, and he was: Wimbledons, British Opens, Olympics, Final Fours, Super Bowls. You name it. Officially the list is 42 bowl games, 33 Masters, 10 Olympics and eight Wimbledons.

But Hubert was more than a dateline. He was a personality who belonged to Tampa Bay, to Florida. I used to joke that he was born in the left-hand corner of the sports section.

Once, after FSU had come from behind to tie Florida in the Choke at the Doak, Hubert was assigned to the FSU column (I had the Florida one). He announced to our staff there that he was going to write about Seminole quarterback Danny Kanell.

Upon reaching the dressing room, however, Mizell saw that coach Bobby Bowden slipped in his chair and almost fell off the stage. In the ESPN highlights, you could hear Hubert's voice laughing loudly. “Don't make fun of me, Hubert,” Bowden said, a quote that Hubert didn't quite get right the next day.

That did it. Hubert changed his column, leaving others to scrap together a piece on Kanell. And what Hubert wrote was the single most read thing in the next day's paper.

That's how he worked, going from field to field, game to game, chasing the headlines. Even late in his life, Mizell could tell a story.

There was the time, for instance, when he covered a game in Athens, Ga. Before the game, he was on the field, and he felt a sting in his lower leg. He glanced down, and sure enough, the Uga mascot had taken a chunk out of him. Painful, but not a bad story.

Two days later, however, Mizell read that Uga had died. For goodness sakes, Mizell thought. I've poisoned Uga!

There were things to learn from Mizell. Our first night in Barcelona, at the Olympics, the fan mysteriously went missing. To his room. “You have to be quick,” was all he said.

Mizell once wrote that Spurrier was arrogant. Spurrier called him. Mizell stuck to his description. “Well,” Spurrier said, “I guess I am arrogant.”

He loved Bobby Knight to a fault. One day before Ray Perkins was fired, he gave him another year. He doubted Tony Dungy. He lived for the Final Four. He thought the Masters was terrific. He opposed football at USF. On the first-ever game we covered together, I bet him the 49ers couldn't score on the Broncos again before halftime. I lost.

Honestly? We weren't always Damon and Pythias. I came along at a time he was protecting his turf, and I was a young wise guy who wanted more to cover. But we talked about our columns a lot. I'd like to think we had a nice respect for each other. I mean, he was Tampa Bay sports to me.

And now he's gone. It's an empty, numbing feeling. I was used to Hubert being around. I guess I thought he'd always be.

Happy trails, old pal.

May the parking always be good, and may the press buffet always be clear.


Share with:Tweet about this on Twitter0Share on Facebook0Share on Google+0Share on Reddit0Email this to someone

{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }

Rick March 7, 2016 at 8:05 pm

Sorry to hear of his passing. He and Tom McEwen were the two big editors/writers who introduced me to Tampa Bay area sports when I first moved here to go to USF.


Cecil DeBald March 4, 2016 at 7:09 am

Sorry for your loss, Gary, and of course for the Tampa Bay area’s loss of a real sports reporter. I looked forward daily to reading Hubert’s column, and am thankful for the sports reporting available over the years in the Times, including your work of course. I hope in the end Hubert looked back and saw a joyous life.



Leave a Comment

Previous post:

Next post: