RODRIGUEZ CAMPAIGN STRATEGY: REMEMBER MY GLORY DAYS, PLEASE!

By Juan Montoya
Brownsville is famous for recycling old warships, tires, clothes, and politicians.
So we weren't totally surprised when old warhorse Joe Rodriguez was painfully trotted out from the pasture to vie for the Place 4 position on the board.

What did surprise is is that Rodriguez – given his tumultuous past with the BISD – would still agree to get on the ballot.
He faces Shirley La Bowman and Mary Rey.
Rodriguez has proven masterful over the decades of milking his 15 minutes of fame (actually, it was 60) and creating a cult-personality industry of it.
He will not allow anyone to forget that drizzly night of Dec. 3, 1969 at Sams Stadium when his Brownsville H.S. Golden Eagles football team was beaten like they had been caught stealing chickens 47-14 by the Seguin Matadors for the regional title. It was the highest level the team ever reached.
Rodriguez has ridden that 10-2 season for all it's worth and has made it a cottage industry.
Now his personal blogger – and longtime BISD protege – has started to run snippets of the 1969 season all the way up to the fateful Seguin game when the Matadores sliced and diced the Eagles and roasted them on a skewer.
Like Bruce Springsteen's "Glory Days," Jerry is replaying the eight-track tapes to see if the old magic still works.
You remember the names: Desi Najera, Ruben Fernandez, Charlie Hernandez, Johnny "O" Olvera,  Alberto Treviño, Lonnie Robinson, Danny Salinas, Lonny Robinson, Mike Goode, and Mike Adams, Leal, etc..
And locals remembered them, too. 
Najera went on to be fire chief, and later emergency coordinator for the county while the others were found suitable positions by a thankful city.
Rodriguez went on to become a trustee at the BISD, then Athletic Director, and then a vendor where he made princely sums as a result of the connections he made with his compadres and the patronage he dispensed through his position when AD and trustee.
At least three audits and a forensic audit have shown that Big Joe has served himself well at the public trough while cloaking himself in a mantle of sainthood and benevolence. An idol with feet of clay.
Bowman remembers when she was ready to collect payment for the four games she worked and A.D. Joe told her that the way it worked was, three for you, one for me. She told him, Bowman said, that it was not the way she worked and demanded – and got – her pay.
We, in Brownsville, have nurtured a vice that allows people like Big Joe and others to milk that fleeting moment of fame for decades to come. Just when you think there's no more juice left in the turnip, another squeeze gets the juice flowing again.
Now that he's thrown his coach's cap in the arena, the research for the details of his performance as a "public servant" which has made him wealthy has started. Let the game begin.
Second half, anyone?