Nevada 2004 - The legend lives on...
Posted: Sat Nov 03, 2007 1:04 pmFor obvious reasons, names not used..
November 13, 2004 was a lonely day on SMU's main quad. You see, the administration's efforts to stop the under aged drinking that started with bartenders and now included wristbands had pushed the student body over the edge. In fact, many greek "leaders" had actually taken the initiative to organize "Boycott the Boulevard," a full fledged party at Jack's Pub and the Elephant - two places that no one worried about not being able to pound a few cocktails. The best part about the event was
that it drew the attendance of the TABC away from the BLVD, leaving the few seniors who stuck with the traditional tailgate on the main quad with about 800 beers, no supervision, and too much time.
Hours after the festivities began, we made the long journey to Ford Stadium - on a Getty Up golf cart, of course - just in time for the 2nd Q.
A good size crew made our way down to the first row of the student section, immediately behind the Nevada bench. No worries, people - we take whiskey to the games, and the party continues.
As the 3rd quarter progresses, the most amazing idea comes to our attention. There is a lone Nevada helmet sitting on a training table behind the players, with no supervision. It will be ours. Oh yes, it will be ours.
We spend 30 minutes or so plotting our moves. All we come up with, though, is two people jump, one runs interference on security, and the other tosses the helmet up to me in the stands. At that point it would be every man for himself. I wasn't very optimistic about making it out of the stadium without a police escort but what the heck, one more swig of whiskey takes care of that.
As you can imagine, we backed off the idea as the time to go approached, ultimately deciding it would be best to wait until the game ended and try to get the student crowd to follow us onto the field so we could disguise our plot. Unfortunately, the Nevada staff started to pack up early and time began to run out.
My friend - we will call him L - decides this mission is a go and swings one leg over the railing. A yellow jacket (security guard) immediately yells up to him "NO WAY. Don't do it - NO WAY."And L retreats. As the security guard starts to walk away, L turns to me and mutters: "You get me out of jail?" Excuse me, what was that? " WILL YOU BAIL ME OUT OF JAIL??"
I make eye contact with our other friend and we simultaneously respond "ABSOLUTELY, We will be there. Lets do this." Before we could finish the sentence he was on his way over. Less of a jump and more of a fall followed, and L just lay there on the grass, motionless. The yellow jacket flashed a smile, turned his back, and pretended not to see as he just walked the other way.
L made his way to the training table and took possession of the helmet. Now this is where everything goes wrong. We are getting nervous about our own get away, but it looks like we won't need much of an escape plan. L puts the helmet on and straps ups. Now sporting blue jeans, a barn jacket, boots, and a Nevada helmet, L joins his teammates on the sideline. When the current play ends, he goes jogging out onto the field as Nevada changes personnel. At this point, I am crying and can barely see. L lines up at middle linebacker, but no one seems to notice. Romo goes under center and is about to snap the ball and still no one has done anything. Finally another LB from Nevada throws his arms in the air and a back judge comes running up toward the line, blowing his whistle, and waving his arms in the air. BUSTED! Why couldn't Romo run the damn play? would have been that much better...oh well.
Officer Norris and Co come sprinting onto the field. L puts his hands out as though he knows what is coming. After handcuffing our friend, the officers don't even afford him the courtesy of unstrapping the helmet. They just rip it off - probably one of the more painful things I could imagine they could done. After completing one of the greatest moves in Hilltop history, L disappears down the tunnel with the cops and we begin to wonder how long it will be before they allow him out of jail.
Pretty soon thereafter, some Mustang Club people show up in the student section, trying to figure out who it was, etc. One good man reaches us and goes to see what he can do to help him get out. He returns, however, that the police are fed up because L tried to "fake a seizure" to get out of this. He is going to jail for sure at this point, and we proceed to the bar.
This scene brings more of the same. TABC officers spent their day hauling off the kids to jail. I quickly realize that there are more than 10 of our guys in UP jail right now, and we decide they aren't getting my attention until after Bubba's is served in the morning.
The best part of the whole charade, however, comes in the form of a phone call at 830am Monday morning. Dee Siscoe calls me to extend an invitation to an 11am judicial hearing. Excuse me? You think this was a fraternity planned event? You want me to come to a judicial hearing in 2 hours? What a joke!!
WHAT A JOKE!! I give them 15 minutes of my thoughts and the whole goes aways. But the legend lives on...
November 13, 2004 was a lonely day on SMU's main quad. You see, the administration's efforts to stop the under aged drinking that started with bartenders and now included wristbands had pushed the student body over the edge. In fact, many greek "leaders" had actually taken the initiative to organize "Boycott the Boulevard," a full fledged party at Jack's Pub and the Elephant - two places that no one worried about not being able to pound a few cocktails. The best part about the event was
that it drew the attendance of the TABC away from the BLVD, leaving the few seniors who stuck with the traditional tailgate on the main quad with about 800 beers, no supervision, and too much time.
Hours after the festivities began, we made the long journey to Ford Stadium - on a Getty Up golf cart, of course - just in time for the 2nd Q.
A good size crew made our way down to the first row of the student section, immediately behind the Nevada bench. No worries, people - we take whiskey to the games, and the party continues.
As the 3rd quarter progresses, the most amazing idea comes to our attention. There is a lone Nevada helmet sitting on a training table behind the players, with no supervision. It will be ours. Oh yes, it will be ours.
We spend 30 minutes or so plotting our moves. All we come up with, though, is two people jump, one runs interference on security, and the other tosses the helmet up to me in the stands. At that point it would be every man for himself. I wasn't very optimistic about making it out of the stadium without a police escort but what the heck, one more swig of whiskey takes care of that.
As you can imagine, we backed off the idea as the time to go approached, ultimately deciding it would be best to wait until the game ended and try to get the student crowd to follow us onto the field so we could disguise our plot. Unfortunately, the Nevada staff started to pack up early and time began to run out.
My friend - we will call him L - decides this mission is a go and swings one leg over the railing. A yellow jacket (security guard) immediately yells up to him "NO WAY. Don't do it - NO WAY."And L retreats. As the security guard starts to walk away, L turns to me and mutters: "You get me out of jail?" Excuse me, what was that? " WILL YOU BAIL ME OUT OF JAIL??"
I make eye contact with our other friend and we simultaneously respond "ABSOLUTELY, We will be there. Lets do this." Before we could finish the sentence he was on his way over. Less of a jump and more of a fall followed, and L just lay there on the grass, motionless. The yellow jacket flashed a smile, turned his back, and pretended not to see as he just walked the other way.
L made his way to the training table and took possession of the helmet. Now this is where everything goes wrong. We are getting nervous about our own get away, but it looks like we won't need much of an escape plan. L puts the helmet on and straps ups. Now sporting blue jeans, a barn jacket, boots, and a Nevada helmet, L joins his teammates on the sideline. When the current play ends, he goes jogging out onto the field as Nevada changes personnel. At this point, I am crying and can barely see. L lines up at middle linebacker, but no one seems to notice. Romo goes under center and is about to snap the ball and still no one has done anything. Finally another LB from Nevada throws his arms in the air and a back judge comes running up toward the line, blowing his whistle, and waving his arms in the air. BUSTED! Why couldn't Romo run the damn play? would have been that much better...oh well.
Officer Norris and Co come sprinting onto the field. L puts his hands out as though he knows what is coming. After handcuffing our friend, the officers don't even afford him the courtesy of unstrapping the helmet. They just rip it off - probably one of the more painful things I could imagine they could done. After completing one of the greatest moves in Hilltop history, L disappears down the tunnel with the cops and we begin to wonder how long it will be before they allow him out of jail.
Pretty soon thereafter, some Mustang Club people show up in the student section, trying to figure out who it was, etc. One good man reaches us and goes to see what he can do to help him get out. He returns, however, that the police are fed up because L tried to "fake a seizure" to get out of this. He is going to jail for sure at this point, and we proceed to the bar.
This scene brings more of the same. TABC officers spent their day hauling off the kids to jail. I quickly realize that there are more than 10 of our guys in UP jail right now, and we decide they aren't getting my attention until after Bubba's is served in the morning.
The best part of the whole charade, however, comes in the form of a phone call at 830am Monday morning. Dee Siscoe calls me to extend an invitation to an 11am judicial hearing. Excuse me? You think this was a fraternity planned event? You want me to come to a judicial hearing in 2 hours? What a joke!!
WHAT A JOKE!! I give them 15 minutes of my thoughts and the whole goes aways. But the legend lives on...
