Handshake Line

[Peacone36]

This post struck a cord with me. I was a season ticket holder back in 1987 when our beloved Yellow Jackets, who at the time had 3 or 4 wins (this was pre-Collins so it was noteworthy at the time) hosted the mighty Deamon Deacons who rolled into BDS with a 6 or 7 wins under their belt. Beautiful fall day, blue sky but very cold and windy. We got beat badly (33-6 per a quick Google search) and there were maybe 32k people at kickoff. I am a glutton for punishment and like to drink bourbon in BDS (one of the very few things in life I am actually good at) so I stayed deep into the 4th quarter. Long after even the players moms and girlfriends had departed I stayed. Hoping for a miracle. Head spinning too much from Rebel Yell 101 to make me afraid to even stand up and navigate the steps. Finally my wife convinced me to crawl down the steps towards the exit.


As we departed our seats , WF was threatening to score again. I stumbled (against my wife's wishes) into the seats at the back of the North end zone. There weren't 6 people left in the entire stadium who weren't on the field as a player. coach or referee. I felt like a quick pick six in this scenario would ignite the kind of epic comeback like we saw at the U this year or against FSU when we returned the blocked field goal a few years back or when the guy at Cal ran the wrong way at the Rose Bowl. Instead the WF WR got away with one of the most egregious offensive pass interferences I have ever witnessed. WF had scored their final TD with about 3 minutes left.

Nobody in the entire stadium but me cared. Refs, coaches. players and hot dog vendors just wanted to go home and get out of the cold.

I ,of course , sadly still think life should be fair and evil and/or incompetence should be confronted. So I made a stand and called out the refs...their training, their eyesight, their ethics and, dare I say, even the background and proclivities of their mothers were called into question during my umbrage. The stadium was so empty that my rant was in fact heard by everyone left in the stadium, including the patrons way down in the south stands.

But then the moment of true actualization happened and this is a true story. The two zebras in the end zone both pointed at me and laughed. I was acknowledged. My voice had in fact been heard. I emptied the little Rebel Yell left in my other flask into my souvenir cup and stumbled back up the steps. The gods must have been smiling down on me that day as I eventually found our car, our parking spot, and my wife. On the same day the game was. And without frostbite.

Yes, I slept on the couch alone that night. My need for human touch and companship unrequited but sacrificed for the greater good. But you should know I went to sleep that evening smiling my friends and knowing that I had won...because the zebras HAD acknowledged my complaint. I was not just a voice shouting into the abyss. They heard. They knew. The call DID suck and time won't change that fact. But I was acknowledged and that may be my crowning moment in my lifetime. Although I certainly don't want to come across as bragging here to be sure.

 

[stinger78]

This post struck a cord with me. I was a season ticket holder back in 1987 when our beloved Yellow Jackets, who at the time had 3 or 4 wins (this was pre-Collins so it was noteworthy at the time) hosted the mighty Deamon Deacons who rolled into BDS with a 6 or 7 wins under their belt. Beautiful fall day, blue sky but very cold and windy. We got beat badly (33-6 per a quick Google search) and there were maybe 32k people at kickoff. I am a glutton for punishment and like to drink bourbon in BDS (one of the very few things in life I am actually good at) so I stayed deep into the 4th quarter. Long after even the players moms and girlfriends had departed I stayed. Hoping for a miracle. Head spinning too much from Rebel Yell 101 to make me afraid to even stand up and navigate the steps. Finally my wife convinced me to crawl down the steps towards the exit.


As we departed our seats , WF was threatening to score again. I stumbled (against my wife's wishes) into the seats at the back of the North end zone. There weren't 6 people left in the entire stadium who weren't on the field as a player. coach or referee. I felt like a quick pick six in this scenario would ignite the kind of epic comeback like we saw at the U this year or against FSU when we returned the blocked field goal a few years back or when the guy at Cal ran the wrong way at the Rose Bowl. Instead the WF WR got away with one of the most egregious offensive pass interferences I have ever witnessed. WF had scored their final TD with about 3 minutes left.

Nobody in the entire stadium but me cared. Refs, coaches. players and hot dog vendors just wanted to go home and get out of the cold.

I ,of course , sadly still think life should be fair and evil and/or incompetence should be confronted. So I made a stand and called out the refs...their training, their eyesight, their ethics and, dare I say, even the background and proclivities of their mothers were called into question during my umbrage. The stadium was so empty that my rant was in fact heard by everyone left in the stadium, including the patrons way down in the south stands.

But then the moment of true actualization happened and this is a true story. The two zebras in the end zone both pointed at me and laughed. I was acknowledged. My voice had in fact been heard. I emptied the little Rebel Yell left in my other flask into my souvenir cup and stumbled back up the steps. The gods must have been smiling down on me that day as I eventually found our car, our parking spot, and my wife. On the same day the game was. And without frostbite.

Yes, I slept on the couch alone that night. My need for human touch and companship unrequited but sacrificed for the greater good. But you should know I went to sleep that evening smiling my friends and knowing that I had won...because the zebras HAD acknowledged my complaint. I was not just a voice shouting into the abyss. They heard. They knew. The call DID suck and time won't change that fact. But I was acknowledged and that may be my crowning moment in my lifetime. Although I certainly don't want to come across as bragging here to be sure.

What an epistle! Well stated. Too bad this is a basketball forum. Have another 4shotB.

 

[kg01]

This post struck a cord with me. I was a season ticket holder back in 1987 when our beloved Yellow Jackets, who at the time had 3 or 4 wins (this was pre-Collins so it was noteworthy at the time) hosted the mighty Deamon Deacons who rolled into BDS with a 6 or 7 wins under their belt. Beautiful fall day, blue sky but very cold and windy. We got beat badly (33-6 per a quick Google search) and there were maybe 32k people at kickoff. I am a glutton for punishment and like to drink bourbon in BDS (one of the very few things in life I am actually good at) so I stayed deep into the 4th quarter. Long after even the players moms and girlfriends had departed I stayed. Hoping for a miracle. Head spinning too much from Rebel Yell 101 to make me afraid to even stand up and navigate the steps. Finally my wife convinced me to crawl down the steps towards the exit.


As we departed our seats , WF was threatening to score again. I stumbled (against my wife's wishes) into the seats at the back of the North end zone. There weren't 6 people left in the entire stadium who weren't on the field as a player. coach or referee. I felt like a quick pick six in this scenario would ignite the kind of epic comeback like we saw at the U this year or against FSU when we returned the blocked field goal a few years back or when the guy at Cal ran the wrong way at the Rose Bowl. Instead the WF WR got away with one of the most egregious offensive pass interferences I have ever witnessed. WF had scored their final TD with about 3 minutes left.

Nobody in the entire stadium but me cared. Refs, coaches. players and hot dog vendors just wanted to go home and get out of the cold.

I ,of course , sadly still think life should be fair and evil and/or incompetence should be confronted. So I made a stand and called out the refs...their training, their eyesight, their ethics and, dare I say, even the background and proclivities of their mothers were called into question during my umbrage. The stadium was so empty that my rant was in fact heard by everyone left in the stadium, including the patrons way down in the south stands.

But then the moment of true actualization happened and this is a true story. The two zebras in the end zone both pointed at me and laughed. I was acknowledged. My voice had in fact been heard. I emptied the little Rebel Yell left in my other flask into my souvenir cup and stumbled back up the steps. The gods must have been smiling down on me that day as I eventually found our car, our parking spot, and my wife. On the same day the game was. And without frostbite.

Yes, I slept on the couch alone that night. My need for human touch and companship unrequited but sacrificed for the greater good. But you should know I went to sleep that evening smiling my friends and knowing that I had won...because the zebras HAD acknowledged my complaint. I was not just a voice shouting into the abyss. They heard. They knew. The call DID suck and time won't change that fact. But I was acknowledged and that may be my crowning moment in my lifetime. Although I certainly don't want to come across as bragging here to be sure.

 

[forensicbuzz]

Now that you mention it, mine did too. It's the ol' Pavlov Theory at work here I suppose.

For a moment I read Popov and started having chills.