Confession Seventeen: Dibs – Bitches!

Yes Coco – I win, not you. You may have called “Dibs” but in my infinite wisdom I am relegating you to the chocolaty desert, not the cute track boy. Here, on this ever so public forum, I am publicly commenting on David Oliver’s attractiveness … thick, cute and can speak to the media! Me Likely! … and I even know his name (Sexy USA Track Athlete does not count.).

So HA! – You can have Dwayne Wayne, and the silver medal Mr. Oliver is going to give him.

In the immortal word of Frankenstein – I WIN!

Now, for yet another moment in my “storied” career …

Yet another story from the football press box.

As I made it clear in the last blog – much like the lack of sex in the champagne room – there is no yelling in the press box.

As a GA I was in charge of post game stat copies. Not hard. Get hard copies of the stat files, send them through the copier, and send undergrads to distribute them accordingly. Rinse and repeat until about 100 people have what they need. An angry monkey could do it.

One night, as I was waiting for those copies an opposing coach (also a GA), ran out of the coaches box, through the press box, toward the elevator pumping his fists and screaming “F#(K Yeah!” after they had beat us. I never forgot that scene because it was so very unclassy.

Fast forward two years later. Once again we were hosting that same foe and guess who was still on that staff.

During the post game I like to exert my small amount of power (read: I had no problem kicking people off MY copier.) and I happened to find that goober already on my copier and in my way.

Just to clarify the point that I thought I did I have power, I marched in, gave the guy a slight hip, and hit the STOP button. Needless to say he was mad.

Very calmly I explained that I had work to do and copies for his staff was not high on that priority list, unless he was willing to give those play charts to the media as well. (service with a smile!)

By the time the guy was done screaming in my face telling me that I was in fact a “sweetheart” (sure that is what he called me), I had two runners already down to their respective press conferences.

Dude really thought he could plead with me claiming he would “lose his job” and asking if I was serious. I felt great getting the revenge batting my eyes and telling him “F#(K Yeah!” (Sorry mom and dad!).

No, it was not my classiest moment, but revenge was sweet that day, especially since we won that game. (Secretly I was proud of myself for standing my ground against such a large man. Once things calmed down I actually found my boss to apologize and explain the situation.)

Lesson learned: NO YELLING IN THE PRESS BOX!
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Now on to a more serious note, my thoughts and prayers go out to every last DMB fan, friend and most importantly, family member.

The loss of LeRoi Moore is crazy.

So many memories from my teenage years up through present day have some element of Dave Matthews underscoring the reason they are my favorites.

I considered re-telling some of those favorite memories tonight, but I am sure that those who were with me when they occurred hold them just as near to their hearts as they are to mine.

All I can say is nights at Starlake will never be the same and stage left is going to be a lonely place.

R.I.P. Roi. Enjoy the endless concert – “It’s better to leave then to be left.”