Thursday, October 18, 2007

Laura, did you say... CHEEEEESE

Post #14 Topic: Ladi Dadi, Wisco Likes to Party

Pre-Mature P.S.: On the right side of the page are links that correspond with each post... Click em.

Do you remember Freshman year of college? Well I most certainly do not. But from what my friends tell me it was a lot of fun.

That’s not entirely true. I do remember the first few weeks of school. That awkward phase where everybody starts meeting everyone, finding out who their common connections are, hooking up with people because they had extra wheat thins and you were out of easy mac. The part of Freshman year where you read your textbooks, highlight important information, take notes and go to bed feeling like college is going to make you a smarter person (when in reality, 95% of my friends from college left significantly dumber than they were upon their arrival...oh, the files are IN THE COMPUTER). Its only about a month before you find out that the bar down the street has three dollar pitchers of beer flavored water that you drink until you vomit from near drowning and being full… not from intoxication. It takes even less time for you to realize who you’re going to like and not like, what fraternity you want to join, and where the closest Burger King is.

One of my most memorable memories from beginning of 1st semester freshman year involves a guy who to this day is still one of my closest friends. To protect the innocent, we will call him Jaguar. Jaguar was one of the 1st people I met at Syracuse, but not on my own accord. Instead, within hours of settling in I was startled by a loud “WHOOOOOOO” coming from down the hall. Shortly thereafter my door (which I swear was locked, although I would soon learn that locking doors was not a detterent to the jaguar but rather an invitation for him to try harder to get in) swung open and in walked the Jag. Now I didn’t come up with the name “Jag”, rather, he introduced himself to me as the Jag. From then on out he was Jaguar WHOOOOOOOO, to everyone on the floor. (I swear this is sports related, but the back story is truly crucial and I would be negligent to nonchalantly pass over it).

Jag was the biggest personality at Syracuse and perhaps the world. Over the 7 years during which I have known the Jag, he has provided me with endless entertainment, countless ridiculous (some true some not) stories, hilarious encounters, heartfelt conversation, strange yelps, awkward laughs, disgusting eating habits, but more importantly, the Jag is undoubtedly a great friend to have. Who else has lost 7 friends to marijuana and tells you not to get on a plane because he "has a real bad feelin man, and you know about my sixth sense bro... WHOO"

That first weekend after I had established a sort of “crew”, Jag came running down the hall with great news. “Bro Bro Bro, I just talked to Dwight Freeney Bro. Me and D-freen are boys bro, (insert hilarious laugh-like sound effect of which this day no impression has done justice). Freeney man he’s my man… man. He told me of this amazing strip club that him and all the football players go to every night we gotta go bro. My boy Freen (Jag was great at making multiple nicknames where there were none already) says McNaab loved this place bro, its called Moulin Rouge”.

So me and my new friends saddled up and moved it to Moulin Rouge, where we were greeted by the first one-toothed, pregnant, meth addict stripper I’d ever seen. On a side note, another friend named Greene got his first ever lap dance that night. He was kind of ignorant about life and didn’t know any slang, so that when he came out of the lap dance with his hands above his head laughing, and we asked him if he, well… finished, he claimed that he didn’t know… enough said. Anyway the strip joint was a joke. Disgusting and filthy, and their drink selection was 6 different snapples (not including diet lime green tea which is by far the best tasting one).

So the lesson was, JAG DOES NOT KNOW DWIGHT FREENEY. Nor did he know any of the other athletes that he claimed to know over the next 4 years. But this is not the point of this post. Rather, the point is that… Neither did I. I had no idea who Dwight Freeney was. I knew nothing about college football and didn’t think I cared to learn.

But that year Syracuse football was great and I fell in love with it. 63,000 people in a dome to watch a game in the middle of three feet of snow is something else especially when everyone is jingling their keys on 3rd down, chanting “fuck em up fuck em up GO SU”, and drunk. That year they went 6-1 in the Big East finishing behind only Miami (although the bowl makers gave them 3rd in the big east given that the true 3rd place finisher, Virginia Tech had a larger TRAVELING FAN BASE (which obviously included all of Michael Vick’s dogs, dead and alive, and all of Marcus Vick’s drug dealers). That year if I ( remember correctly, the Orange started off losing their 1st two games to Georgia Tech and Tennessee. They then won 8 straight games against some great teams including: Auburn, Pittsburgh (good at the time), Va Tech, and West Virginia. Then after being blown out by Miami 59-0 (the same Miami team that had Frank Gore as a 3rd string running back, Willis McGahee 2nd and Clinton Portis starting), they beat Boston College to send them to a bowl game against ranked Kansas State which they won by a score of 26-3. 'Cuse was a good football team, and so they should have been as a football school (until the following year when i experienced the best moment in my career as a sports fan... stay tuned for future post).

Undersized linebacker Dwight Freeney was projected to go at the end of the 1st round. The same Dwight Freeney who in Donovan McNaab’s masterful upset of the Michigan Wolverines in 1998 sacked quarterback TOM BRADY to change the landscape of the game. But with a surprise pick, the Indianapolis Colts selected Freeney at 11… people wondered what was wrong with the Indi Brass. Now, as one of the best defensive players in the game, their questions have been answered. And ever since his departure Syracuse football has been shameful/embarrassing.

Which brings me to the topic of this story. This weekend I’m off to Wisconsin to see a real college football game, in a big ten stadium, with a big ten school. Although Wisconsin hasn’t been at the top of its game in recent weeks they are still a top notch football team, unlikely to experience the rapid, dane-cook-supporter-numbers-like decline that Syracuse has gone through in the past years. The stadium, Camp Randall holds 80,321 people and is the 4th oldest college football stadium in the country. Fortunately the Badgers are playing Northern Illinois. And hopefully after Saturday afternoon I will remember what its like to be part of a winning football tradition, which can take a non football fan and turn him (or her) into a fanatic with just one crowd rustling, Dwight Freeney-esque sack.

With that being said, Syracuse Basketball is going to be DIRTY this year. Absolutely disgusting. The recipe for success? The same recipe that professional franchises use all over the country to secure wins and fans and groupies… the all-criminal team.

Other Notes:

Wisconsin or no Wisconsin, there’s no place like dome.

Guys, do your friends a favor. If they have a turkey club and get mayonnaise on their face, let them know before they raise their hand in class.

Today I saw a homeless guy, the same one whose been outside of my school for years, sitting on a recliner. Not just any recliner, a brand new comfy one. I was so tired from working all day that I almost wanted to sit. Which made me think of a great invention… a motorized recliner so you can recline to and from wherever you’re going. Of course it would have an optional built-in toilet.

You can take away our keys and you can take away our phones, but you can’t take away our dreams, cause we’re like sleeping when we have them.

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