If you do not know me (I mean, really know me) then there is something you need to understand before you read this blog: I value the truth above everything else... except a good laugh. A good laugh will almost always beat the truth as far as I’m concerned. Everything you read on this blog will be true, somewhat true, or something I made up in an effort to get a laugh. Sometimes I will go on a rant that I don’t really mean (or only kind of mean). Sometimes I will mean what I write only to completely change my mind a year, month, or day later. Such is life. By reading this blog you agree not to get offended by anything I write (or, at the very least, you agree not to tell me or anyone else that you are offended). It is worth noting that my employer does not endorse my blog (or even read it, to tell you the truth). The Wife also does not endorse my blog (though she will read it from time to time). I am not paid to write this... it’s just my way of giving back to the community. I have, and will, touch on a wide range of subjects and will give my opinion on these subjects. Again, most of what I say is for laughs but every now and then I will say what I really think and feel (see my views on Westboro Baptist Cult). How will you know when I’m serious and when I’m trying to get a laugh? You’ll know. And if you don’t know, well... maybe this isn’t the best thing for you to be reading. So, sit back, read and enjoy. Leave comments if you want and don’t be afraid to publicly follow me.
Someone on the radio this week was talking about kids getting autographs from their heroes on college football teams and it caused me to have a very vivid flashback to the spring of 1989. I was in the 4th grade and Sonny was still in his first year at Clemson (remember, he was an accident). Dad came to pick me up from Stiles Point Elementary School early on a Friday so we could head up to Clemson for the weekend. We were going up there to visit Sonny, watch some baseball games and go watch the Orange and White game. Up to that point, I had been slightly disappointed in Sonny as I had written him multiple times asking him to seek out certain football players and get their autographs for me… yet had received no return letter containing autographs. Honestly, I was 10 years old at the time… why the coldhearted jackass couldn’t have just scribbled some names on a sheet of paper and mailed it to me I’ll never know. But, as you can tell, I hold no grudge against him.
Anyway, Dad and I headed up to Clemson for a fun weekend. After one of the baseball games I was able to go down on the field and get autographs from the players (none of whom I knew… and as far as I can tell, I didn’t get any autographs of any future Major League Baseball players… though I may have gotten Brian Barnes’ autograph… I don’t remember). I do remember that I got Coach Wilhelm’s autograph. That was cool. I can remember going into the restaurant at our hotel and seeing Frank Howard. Well, I didn’t see him… Dad did. But Dad pointed him out to me so I walked over and asked him for his autograph. Actually, I was so scared that I just walked over and stood there. He didn’t see me at first, so his wife had to point me out to him. Then I asked for his autograph. He was real nice to me.
Now let’s talk about the Orange and White game. I don’t know how it happened, but somehow I ended up following an older kid down to the sideline. Where were Dad and Sonny while I was down there? Beats me… probably up in the stands looking at the cheerleaders. Heck, for all I know, they left to go grab something to eat and came back to the game in time to pick me up. That’s not the point of the story. The point of the story is this. I have followed Clemson football for as long as I can remember. I was a huge fan of the Tigers up until early September 2004 (which I’ve talked about before)… now I follow (and cheer) for them, but don’t live and die with the team. Anyway, if you ask me where my heart is when it comes to Clemson football I will tell you 1988 – 1991 (with a heavy emphasis on the ’88 and ’89 teams). It is no coincidence that this is when Levon Kirkland was playing for the Tigers. I loved the players on that team. I lived and died on how well they played on Saturdays. Simply put, on this Saturday back in the spring of 1989 I was walking around the sideline of Death Valley amongst my heroes. The kid I was with handed me a pen and a yellow sheet of paper off of a legal pad and off we went. Let me take a second here to let you know that at no point did I have a player refuse to give me his autograph. All the guys were great. I can still remember walking up to Chris Morocco as he was kneeling on the sideline watching a play and asking him for his autograph. He grabbed the pen and paper, turns his back to Danny Ford (who was a short distance away) and as he signs he says, “Be careful… don’t let Coach Ford see you out here”. I don’t remember if I got Coach Ford’s autograph… I don’t think I did. While I can’t remember every person who signed for me, I can tell you these players signed: Levon Kirkland, Ed McDaniel, Wayne Simmons, Otis Moore, Chester McGlockton, Rob Bodine, Vance Hammond, John Johnson, Doug Brewster, Jerome Henderson, Arlington Nunn, James Lott, Dexter Davis, Chris Gardocki, Terry Allen, Joe Henderson, Wesley McFadden, DeChane Cameron, Doug Thomas, Gary Cooper, Stacy Fields, Stacy Long, Eric Harmon, Hank Phillips, Chip Davis, Bruce Bratton, Jeb Flesch and Vince Taylor (and, of course, the previously mentioned Chris Morocco). To some of you, these names don’t really mean anything. To me… they practically represent my childhood. This yellow sheet of paper, folded carefully multiple times, was perhaps my most prized possession. I kept it in my room against the mirror. Days, months, years went by and every so often I would pick up that piece of paper and I would look at those names. It was great. Then one day it was gone. I have no idea what happened to it. Mom claims that she didn’t throw it away… though if you must know the truth I think she did. If she didn’t throw it away, then it is still in that house somewhere. Every so often when I am at my parents James Island estate, I will look around in hopes of finding that yellow sheet of paper (and with it, a piece of my childhood). Oh well, at least I have the memory of that day in 1989. And, thanks to my cousin Louis, I have Levon Kirkland’s autograph.
Heroically led his platoon against the enemy in Normandy, France, on 14, 16, and 23 June 1944. Although painfully wounded on the 14th near Orglandes and again on the 16th while spearheading an attack to establish a bridgehead across the Douve River, he refused medical aid and remained with his platoon. A week later, near Flottemanville Hague, he led an assault on a tactically important and stubbornly defended hill studded with tanks, antitank guns, pillboxes, and machinegun emplacements, and protected by concentrated artillery and mortar fire. As the attack was launched, 2d Lt. Butts, at the head of his platoon, was critically wounded by German machinegun fire. Although weakened by his injuries, he rallied his men and directed 1 squad to make a flanking movement while he alone made a frontal assault to draw the hostile fire upon himself. Once more he was struck, but by grim determination and sheer courage continued to crawl ahead. When within 10 yards of his objective, he was killed by direct fire. By his superb courage, unflinching valor and inspiring actions, 2d Lt. Butts enabled his platoon to take a formidable strong point and contributed greatly to the success of his battalion's mission.
For distinguishing himself conspicuously by courage and intrepidity at the risk of his life, in demonstrating that it is possible for aircraft to travel in continuous flight from a now inhabited portion of the earth over the North Pole and return.
I have received a number of calls and emails regarding the fact that Warren Peper is now writing a column for the Post and Courier titled “I’m Just Sayin”. People are in an uproar over the fact that he stole the title of my blog. While I am thankful for the support the community has given me, I must let you know that I am ok. Before things get out of hand, let’s take a look at what is going on. Warren and I go way back... I played basketball in a church league against his sons (mainly the older one, but a couple of years against the younger one too) back in the day. Does he remember this? Probably not, but I do. Let’s be honest here… he has had a great media career in this area. However, since going off of TV, he's struggled a bit. His career is not on the way up, if you know what I mean. He’s doing what he can to stay in the game and if using the title of my blog helps him do that then I am ok with that. I like Pep. I hold no ill will towards him. Plus, it seems that the title is only used for the print version of the column…not the online version. Therefore, I have nothing to worry about. Everyone knows that fewer and fewer people are reading the print version of newspapers these days.
It happened again. I was in Staples wearing my Winthrop golf shirt and someone came up to me asking for help. I’m standing there trying to find the type of pen I wanted, and she walks up behind me asking a question. I wasn’t 100% sure she was talking to me, so I didn’t say anything. She asked again (with slightly more irritation in her voice). I still didn’t say anything. Finally she shook my shoulder and asked her question again. Without looking at her, I (somewhat politely) informed her I had no idea where the stuff was that she was looking for while also pointing out to her that I don’t work there. She was nice and apologized and said that I looked like I knew what I was doing (which I think was a lie because The Wife always tells me I look like a moron). Here’s the thing… my WU shirt is garnet. The shirts employees wear at Staples are red. Yes, garnet is in the same color family as red… but they don’t really look like each other. I am thisclose to going off on someone for stuff like this.
So did you see the news a few weeks ago about the Revolutionary War Hero’s QB coach? Seems he got arrested for peeing in public and then lying to the police when they caught him doing it. If I’m not mistaken, this happened late at night (after 2am?). Like you, my first thought was… “Crap, that’s against the law?” I am happy to see the school didn’t overreact and fire him. He made a mistake and was punished. Next time he will do a better job of not getting caught.
I love this time of the year. College football fall practices are now underway and we get to hear about how this group of kids worked harder over the summer than any other group that’s been in school. By next February coaches will be talking about what a great group of recruits they signed to replace the bums they had to use the past season. I love it.
For extraordinary heroism and conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in actual conflict with the enemy near Grande Riviere, Republic of Haiti, on the night of 31 October-1 November 1919, resulting in the death of Charlemagne Peralte, the supreme bandit chief in the Republic of Haiti, and the killing, capture and dispersal of about 1,200 of his outlaw followers. Cpl. William R. Button not only distinguished himself by his excellent judgment and leadership but also unhesitatingly exposed himself to great personal danger when the slightest error would have forfeited not only his life but the lives of the detachments of Gendarmerie under his command. The successful termination of his mission will undoubtedly prove of untold value to the Republic of Haiti.
Served on board the U.S.S. Signal, Red River, 5 May 1864. Proceeding up the Red River, the U.S.S. Signal engaged a large force of enemy field batteries and sharpshooters, returning their fire until the ship was totally disabled, at which time the white flag was raised. Although entered on the sick list, Butts courageously carried out his duties during the entire engagement.