The Diddy Years Come to a Close
After two years at the head of OH, Sandusky!!!, Caden Diderickson prepares to surrender the gavel at Maddox — and reflects on power, fairness, and the photograph taped to a wall.
By Kyle Andrus · Tribune Staff · former commissioner
BRIGHAM CITY — In a matter of days, at a long table buried under an ungodly quantity of rolls and corn pones, Caden Diderickson will hand over the office he has held for two years. The commissionership of OH, Sandusky!!! rotates every two seasons, and by the calendar Mr. Diderickson's term is complete. He sat with the Tribune to weigh the gavel, the men who may inherit it, and his place in the long line of those who have governed this league.
He began, as outgoing leaders often do, with the question of succession.
"I'm ready to give up power, but I'm scared to see who gets it," Mr. Diderickson said. "I've trusted myself with the power that comes with the title but you never know how fellow league mates will use it. I fear we have some that simply won't lead and others that would lead with an iron fist."
Pressed on whether a specific successor was the source of that fear, the Commissioner was unmovable. "No comment," he said.
“Like Brother Brigham to Joseph, but with less crazy stuff.”— Caden Diderickson, outgoing commissioner
On the matter of his record, Mr. Diderickson was expansive. He cited creativity and fairness as the hallmarks of his administration, and pointed — unprompted — to a documented act of personal fiscal sacrifice.
"I also forked out a decent amount of cash to cover expenses when half the singles crew couldn't make it [to] Eden for the golf round a couple of years ago," he said, before adding, for the record, "(bastards)."
The Tribune sought to verify the claim. The Commissioner stood by it. "Those bastages didn't say they weren't coming until well after the bnb was booked," he said. "I think half of you had already paid me."
His one stated regret is institutional. Mr. Diderickson lamented never having established a "Commissioners Nest" — an honor he likened to the recognition the Boy Scouts of America extend to their Eagle Scouts. "I suppose it isn't too late," he said. "Really it would just be something to hold over the lucky bastards who have managed to win this stupid league that I love."
Asked what he hoped his legacy would be, the Commissioner reached for precedent. "I want my legacy to be a faithful continuation of what was started by the one that came before me" — a reference to his predecessor, two-time champion and two-time last-place finisher Kyle Andrus — "like Brother Brigham to Joseph, but with less crazy stuff."
The Tribune closed by asking the question the league has long carried: whether the man whose face presides over the group chat still thinks of the Commissioner. Mr. Diderickson did not hesitate. "He for sure still thinks about it," he said. "Hard not to when it's taped to the wall as a representation that someone still believes in your innocence."
On his own competitive future, the Commissioner was clear-eyed. Last season — a runner-up finish, the finest of his career — still ended short of the title. "Probably still no championship hopes in my future," he said. "Last year was my best year yet and I still couldn't crack it."
He intends, in retirement, to return to first principles. "I do think I will be able to return to my original focus of making shitty memes and trying to start fights in the group chat," Mr. Diderickson said. "Some of my favorite memories are annoying the league. It's honest work, but it's my work."
The new commissioner will be chosen at the banquet. Mr. Diderickson will be watching. So, presumably, will the photograph.