When I first met Joe Waterloo he spoke a different language. Although we were both in the process of matriculating at the University of Georgia he was from somewhere far to the north. Like beyond Charlotte. Even past Richmond. Yeh, way up there.
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| Shoulda played Preston Jones more... |
You see, love of southern college football can sometimes be earned too easily. But at other times it must be given sacrifice after sacrifice before it is earned and given back. And this was the case with my southern Maryland friend. He suffered. He fumed. He waited for his time to be repaid. Much like many of us. Except that many of us had understood and had the faith instilled in us at a young age.
But Joe Waterloo only had hockey, frozen tundra dog-sledding...and the occasional crab boil.
Today's Ingredients
- Once again, congrats to the men's tennis team for finding their way to the top of the SEC!
- Lots of GDay reactions today.
- One of the rising stars is James Deloach.
- Ching talks defense.
- Here's Blutarsky's observations from GDay. I wonder if that first play from scrimmage was one a fan sent in.
- Leather Helmet Blog finds Chris Mayes is a big dude.
- The offensive line is taking shape, but still faces challenges says Paschall.
- And Emerson takes a shot at the remaining questions of the spring.
- Garbin reminds us that those Gators, they do like to embellish.
- Run Home Jack is ambivalent about Joker Phillips having Photoshop.
- And vineyarddawg updates us on the Corvallis regional for the GymDogs.
So, my favorite Joe Waterloo story (that I can share) started innocently enough. T-Bones on Baxter was having a special on beer. You bought a mug and got as many refills as you could drink. If you had been privy to the discussion prior to our arrival you would have surmised that it was just going to be a nice dinner with a steak on the plate and a couple of cheap Killians Irish Reds.
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| Warning: not conducive to billiards, or wagering. |
But before we even crossed Milledge we had a great idea. Tate Center was open and would surely have several tables open since most students were busy preparing for their finals the next day. It was the kind of idea that brought both excitement and joy to our feeble and addled brains. The kind of idea one can only grasp once he's had a few too many refills in the course of a couple hours. And not surprisingly our friends were fully supportive. Although perhaps they were just anxious to get rid of us.
So we found ourselves surrendering a couple of bucks and our student IDs and then stumbling to the table we had rented. Shortly thereafter it was easy to realize that everyone that was at the Tate Center pool hall that evening was watching us - two drunk fools trying to coordinate pool balls into a rack all while attempting to talk trash. You know, saying things like "Imgonna phlish u sunzbitch...hjulp."
The rest is rather...fuzzy. But I do believe we managed to finish one game in which we bet $1000 on the outcome. And it only took an hour and 28 minutes to finish. About four minutes into it was when we both realized how bad of a decision it was. I mean hell, we still had to walk back up Baxter. And study. Evidently.
Joe Waterloo won the game. And I never paid him the money. Which is why today I'm wishing him a happy 21st birthday!! You're finally legal bro! And the next time we won't have to translate for the waitress whenever you order.
Go Dawgs! So..which of the rest of you bastards is next? Rack em up!
Bernie
