About 3o minutes ago I got this e-mail from my editor at the paper:

Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!! Hallelujah!!!!

You are heading toward Super Versatile V!!!!

This is all because of a high school wrestler’s mug shot. The journey that photo took from a small community just east of Salem to my e-mail box is a long, complicated ordeal. One full of danger, intrigue and rural high school photo directors who occasionally take Mondays off.

As part of our high school coverage, the Statesman Journal picks an all-star team for every sport and then displays the team in a lovely grid on B2.

The athlete of the year gets a full photo shoot and feature but the lowly members of the team (All-Region when I started but now All-Mid-Valley) get a mug shot, stats and one quote from their coach.

Stats and quotes are normally not too bad. Every once in a while there’s a coach that will stiff you and not call you back, but most of the time some other coach has stats and can even provide a few glowing words for a rival.

The problem is art. Finding anywhere from 10 (cross country) to almost 50 (football) pictures can stretch the patience of even the most grizzled, chain-smoking prep sports veteran.

This year I was given the wrestling team. I know next to nothing about wrestling, but I know how to fill numbers in on a chart and write vague wrestling-sounding sentences while trying to figure out what makes a teenage boy grapple (this year, because he’s good at). All of the pictures even came in relatively well, except for one.

The wrestler in question is on his way to becoming the most decorated athlete in the history of one of the small schools we cover. He won a track and field state title as a sophomore as a member of the 4×400 relay. This year he was on the state-champion football team and then won a wrestling state title at 215 pounds. His coach already has visions of more track titles this year and then another football/wrestling combo next year.

Normally I get photos through the coach. In this case, though he coaches wrestling, he’s is not an employee of the school and so it took a little longer to get in touch with him. The story was going to run on a Tuesday and I spoke with him for the first time on Thursday.

We talk about the two wrestlers from Scio we have on the team and what it was like watching them make it all the way to the state title. He tells a great story about how is heavy-weight can throw him all around the gym and marvels at how much the kid has already accomplished. I already have what I need but I’m enjoying the conversation so I ask about if the football title (both kids were on the team) helped them this year. Seems like a cool guy.

I mentioned the need for photos and he was all over it. They had plenty, he said, just say where to send ‘em. This is where I make my first mistake.

The e-mail system at the paper is terrible. If you sign on remotely it makes you re-enter your password every 10 minutes and the storage is minuscule. I don’t want the very last piece I need for this project to get lost in Outlook hell.

So I read off my gmail address. Or at least I think I do. My work e-mail is six character before the @, my personal one is 12. I’ve just doubled my potential for error.

At that point, though, I think everything is fine. Over the weekend I keep checking my gmail, with no success. By the time I come in Monday I’m nervous but still have a whole day to figure it out, so it’s not so bad.

I give the coach a call. He picks up immediately and I let him know about the dropped e-mail. He knows he sent it off earlier and is quite surprised to find I don’t have it. He promises that once he’s near a computer he’ll call and we’ll get it figured out.

The week before I had unsuccessfully called and e-mailed the Scio athletic director. He was in Pendleton, Ore., basically in Idaho, with the school’s basketball teams at the state tournament. I had hopes he’d be able to help me out, as the kid played for him on the football team. Around noon I left a message for him to call me and waited by the phone.*

*I don’t want any of this to come off as me complaining about the people at Scio High School. I gave them very little time to help out with my request and if someone is busy on any given day, that’s not their fault. Things happen and I understand that, and as a reporter it’s my job to work around it. That’s why some of us still get paid. But I want to make it clear there is nothing against Scio.

Around 2 p.m. my editor comes by. We had spoken Saturday about the photos. One quizzical glance from him and shrug from me and we’ve communicated that the picture is still a non-entity. He suggests trying to get a school secretary or something who might be able to just send a yearbook photo.

The Scio secretary is very polite and explains that she needs to check and make sure the kid isn’t on a do-not-disclose list that would keep them from giving out the photo. Otherwise she’d be happy to help and can I check that and call you back?

Now in my head I have the coach, athletic director and school secretary looking for this photo. I scan Google to see if there are any random pictures online (he’s won three state titles already, there’s got to be something! Wait, stop panicking …). At 4 p.m. I open the phone book.

There is one entry for the kid’s last name in Scio. I have no idea who the listing is for but I figure in a town of around 700, the odds are on my side. No one answers and I leave the creepiest if-Justin-lives-here-I-need-a-picture-of-him-but-if-not-don’t-worry message ever. I hope I never hear from the number I call just in case.

At 4:30 p.m. my phone rings. It’s the creepy number people.

I find out I called Justin’s grandfather, who very kindly explains he can’t e-mail me anything but gives me the number for his son, Justin’s dad.

Justin’s dad has a love-hate relationship with his computer. Basically he hates it and would love nothing more than to take it into the street and shoot it with a shotgun. But he gives me his wife’s number. I call her cell and leave a message.

Time begins to tick away. I start going through the archived takes from when our photographers shot the state championship events this kid participated in. How could we be around this kid with a camera so many times and not get one picture that’s muggable?

Around 5:30 p.m. I get a call from the kid’s mom. She assures me there are plenty of pictures that could work (what mom wouldn’t have a million stashed around?) and she’ll e-mail me later that evening. I forget to ask when later might be.

At 7 p.m. I decide I need to go home and get some food. I found the worst mug shot in the world (high school sports category, not talking jail) from the football state playoffs and I’ve left it for my editor just in case.

Fettuccine Alfredo and mixed-vegetables. I feel much better now.

Just before 8 p.m. I check my e-mail and glory be to the patron saint of high school wrestling (which I guess is Saint Sebastian, patron saint of athletes. Thanks Sea Bass!) there is a mug shot. I send it to my editor at 7:50 p.m. and I’m done for the evening, aside from reading that cool e-mail.

This is not a unique story. It happens with every sport and every team in some fashion. For the most part we always pull it out. It’s just a reminder that for almost everything you see in the newspaper, there is a mountain of work that went into it. So if occasionally we don’t cover your school or have the best shot of your athlete, just give us another chance. We’ll definitely try our best.