Keep hitting your "refresh" button between now and on through November 7. We'll be updating frequently with our latest dispatches from the campaign trail. On Election Night we'll be posting live coverage with the latest returns. Rather than bouncing all over the Net looking for various race results, just stay here and let us do the surfing for you. We'll be your one-stop shop for races that affect Austinites. The blog will be divided into three sections; in this area we'll keep tabs on the city of Austin bonds, county races, and local statehouse and congressional seats.

Pig Skinny knows Pig Skinny hates the Texas Longhorns, but sometimes Pig Skinny forgets for about a half a second, and is reminded of just how much. One such a moo-ment occurred on Saturday afternoon at around 2, when the Nebraska Cornhuskers took a 20-19 lead on a halfback pass and Piggy’s wiggly corkscrew tail went to wagging. Longhorns lose in Lincoln, maybe another in Lubbock, and hopes were rising that the good guys could get back into the race for the Big 12 South. Lo and behold – you know the rest – the Corn blew it, sending my aforementioned corkscrew tail in search of a bottle to open.

I knew Texas would beat Nebraska the moment I saw a Cornhuskers fan in the stands do the "Horns down" sign for the television camera. Oh how the mighty have fallen. There was a day not too long ago when Big Red looked down on Burnt Orange in a nice, condescending, Midwestern kind of way. I remember when my father sold his company to a Nebraska-based firm in the Eighties. The boss of the new conglomerate came with us to a Longhorn game and acted a lot like he was at an Abilene Christian T-ball contest, oh so quaint it was. Now I imagine many Cornies are chocking up the Horns' latest win to dumb luck. But we know the truth: Aaron Ross created another fumble and the Huskers no longer believe.

Halfway through the first day of Toros open tryouts last weekend, I had a long conversation with a man named David Thompson. A retired electrician originally from Jamaica, Thompson had made the long trip down from his home in the Bronx with his son Devin, a lanky forward who was on the floor killing himself running drills while his father and I chatted amiably on the sidelines. When we met, Thompson was holding his son’s “Iceman” George Gervin jacket, proof that there’s still love for the old school among today’s young players.

Despite being a black Jamaican from the Bronx, David Thompson couldn’t have reminded me more of my father if he had studied him for an acting class. Almost as soon as we shook hands, he was telling me about the itinerary of his trip from New York to Texas, talking about the best and most efficient driving routes from Austin to Houston (even going so far as to trace an impromptu map on the gym door), asking about my work habits and plans, and quizzing me – to no avail – about local topography and industry.

Every year the NBA feels the need to muddle with its product a bit. The big changes this year are two-fold: there’s the new basketball in use, and the ban on players bitching at the refs. In the Spurs-Heat preseason game on Saturday, it was the latter that had the most impact.

The new ball has engendered lots of complaints from players, especially Shaq, for its supposed slipperiness. (Shaq claimed a few weeks ago that players would be dropping the ball like it was a wet mango – and, yes, we’re paraphrasing some.) But Shaq didn’t seem to have any trouble with the ball on Saturday (24 points and 8 boards in 28 minutes), and neither did anyone else. After the third quarter, when most of the starters headed for the benches, the teams had combined for 21 turnovers – not bad for a preseason game. No one dribbled the ball off his foot or dropped it out of bounds. In fact, it was easy to forget that the ball was new at all.

My fellow basketball blogger Dave Mann and I just returned from San Antonio, where we saw the preseason battle between the Spurs and last year's NBA champions, the Miami Heat. It was a decent preseason game, one that Dave will tell you all about, but I'd like to focus for a moment on an element of the game of some local interest: former Toro Jamar Smith.

Smith, a six-foot-eight-inch forward out of the University of (the great state of) Maryland, appeared in 48 games for the Toros last year, averaging 11.4 points and 7.2 rebounds in close to 29 minutes. Then this past summer he was called by the Spurs to play in the summer league Rocky Mountain Revue, where they must have liked what they saw because on Sept. 15 the team signed him to a training-camp contract. Now he's battling the odds and several other hungry guys for the few available roster spots in San Antonio.

Yes, I know, pro and college football is in full swing and the Detroit Tigers are preparing to win the World Series in six over the least-worthy world championship contender in years, the St. Louis Cardinals. I'm sure many casual sports fans aren't even aware that the NHL season started about 10 days ago and our state's representatives, the Dallas Stars, are off to an impressive 6-1 start. Well, Austin sports fan, it's time to refocus your perspective and alter your priorities. With the Toros, Express, and Wranglers all in their offseason, the Ice Bats are back for their 06-07 campaign to give you a hometown professional sports team to root for. They are looking for your support in their quest to hoist the CHL's Ray Miron President's Cup championship trophy and will do their part by fielding a talented squad with NHL dreams, or at least the dream of getting paid to play hockey. This year's team will get tested right out of the gate hosting the Northern Conference defending champion Bossier-Shreveport Mudbugs tonight at the refurbished Chapparal Ice Arena. The new Bat Cave is located on I-35 between Howard Lane and Wells Branch Parkway and all fans will receive a free magnetic schedule just for showing up.

St. Louis and Detroit – two honest-to-god sports towns, for the simple reason that without sports they would still be unsurveyed forestland with Native Americans and westward settlers doing battle atop bluffs and amid inlets, all quivers and gunpowder instead of beer and cars, preindustrial jerks instead of postmodern ones whose skirmishes would serve as sport themselves for the privileged few and their "aeroplanes" – will be watching baseball for the next week. No one but Fox, and, by extension, Bud Selig, gives a shit if anybody else joins them.

The official Austin Chronicle preview below the fold ...

The last time I played kickball was in Brooklyn, N.Y., as part of a friend’s pre-wedding bonding; only to find out that kickball had come in vogue. What else can a hipster do with all those headbands and gym shorts that are no longer acceptable in the clubs? Exercise? Hardly. If you break a sweat during regulation kickball, you’re probably doing something very wrong. The only slightly more popular sloshball combines the childhood pastime of kickball with the somewhat more adult pastime of binge drinking. However, kickball plus an inability to pass second base without chugging a beer can often equal a stumbling face-plant into a metal pole serving as a backstop. Or, so I’m told. Taking a few of the rules of kickball and adding in a dash of the anarchy of sloshball is Mojo Kickball. An Austin original, the rules of Mojo are both simple enough to jump right in and complicated enough to merit blog entries concerning the finer points of baserunning. I’ll spare you the details and just say that there are six balls and lots of team communication (read “shouted, cross-field advice”). Almost everyone plays at all times, and assuming there are ample players, you can run yourself silly or take it a little easier. The next game is on Oct. 22, at 3pm at Krieg softball field No. 5. Drinks and snacks are provided, but to offset the field’s reservation fee the Mojo Kickball gods ask that you bring a dollar. And, honestly is that so much when, in return, you can call your friends in Brooklyn and tell them how the cool kids play kickball. Check out www.mojokickball.com for rules, strategies, pictures, and, for some reason, a Mojo Kickball Dating Service. Yeah, it’s that fun.