Klemnop
01-15-2018, 07:37 PM
Howdy, everyone. It’s been a while.
The eve of yet another Clemson @ UNC game got me thinking about all my good times as a semi-regular contributor to DBR. I am pleased (and somewhat amazed) to see so many of the Usual Suspects still keeping this place as vibrant as ever.
Because I can clearly recall the workstation where I sat when I first joined DBR I can tell you it’s been nearly 20 years since that first, fateful message - which essentially launched a new era in my life of internet message board reading and posting. (I fondly remember needing an explanation from seasoned posters as to what the heck the ubiquitous “lol” meant.). That was the fall of 1999.
Thinking about posting has me nostalgic for what has happened in those 20 years.
My son, following in his dad’s footsteps, graduated from Clemson this past August. He was four (4) years old when I first started posting here. I could only hope, then, that he’d become the fine Clemson Man he’s become - though he never developed the love of Clemson Hoops I did.
My first daughter, two (2) years old then, has likewise followed in her mother’s footsteps, now enjoying her third year at Stanford as an Earth Systems major. She is determined to save the world...and if we’re all lucky she just might do it. One degree of ocean salinity at a time (or something like that.)
My last daughter wasn’t even a thought in 1999. (I argued we should have called her “Merlot”, but my wife didn’t think that was as clever as I did at the time, thankfully.) She’s now a Senior in HS and has already accepted and confirmed her spot in the Reed College incoming Freshman class of 2018.
I achieved some level of notoriety in DBR lore for my “promise”. I never grow tired of recanting the tale:
In the Spring of 1989 I attended my first ever Clemson at UNC game (my best friend from HS was attending UNC...a friendship that has maintained and grown ever since then.) I was such a foolish young man, then. I harbored some hope that my beloved Tigers could win against anyone, anywhere. Such were the heady days of 1989 and ‘90. We lost that day (badly) to a team led by King Rice, Rick Fox and a slew of others. I walked away devastated.
I returned in 1990. More confident than ever. 1990! What a year! What a team. Elden Campbell, Dale Davis, Marion Cash, Sean Tyson...and the King of Junk Defenses, Cliff Ellis, calling the shots. That team won the ACC Regular Season, eclipsing Fire and Ice, Lethal Weapon 3, Hurley/Laettner, Bryant Stith and the rest of those (mostly) great ACC teams I remember by heart. And we did beat UNC in Littlejohn that year. But, once again, we were baldy demoralized in the Dean Dome.
In the moments walking away from the arena, up a steep hill toward the UNC dorms, I looked back and paused. In a prescient moment I said to my friend, “We’ll never win there.” At the time the streak must have been 35 or 40 games long. My friend, as all goods friends would, tried to console me. But I was young and angry and hurt.
“No, never. It’s never going to happen. Never.”
“In fact, I’m so sure, I promise if it ever should happen I’ll run to the front of the Planetarium (that’s right there on Franklin Street, for those that need a little Chapel Hill geography), I’ll strip naked and dangle myself from the statue there.”
Having not a million dollars (or anything else worth promising) that was, in the moment, the most fantastic thing I could think to offer.
In 1991 I returned to Chapel Hill, ready as ever to disrobe. And 1992. And 1993. After a while life intervened and I stopped making the trip to Chapel Hill. But I always tried to stay in shouting distance on the day of the game, just in case.
But the 90’s turned into the 2000’s. And the 2000’s turned into the 20-teens. And here we are, heading into the 59th game in Chapel Hill for Clemson. My dignity fully in tact.
Some years ago I posted here on DBR that I’m not sure I want the streak to end. There’s something interesting about “never”. And I’m not sure the joy of one moment will fill the hole that would be created by becoming a 1-fer. In a lot of ways I’ve stopped caring very much (which is another essay I may yet write about my hate-don’t care relationship with Brad Brownell). But I do care about my history and the outcome of this game continues to evolve me, year over year, in a way I can’t quite put my finger on.
I’ll be in Middletown, CT on Tuesday night. Far, far from Chapel Hill. There wouldn’t be any dangling on my part in Chapel Hill should the unthinkable transpire. That makes me a little bit sad. And then I remind myself that the fundamental premise of “the promise” is that it will never happen. Never.
A shout-out to DBR. This community was a formative part of my life and I have always enjoyed thinking back on my time here. I hope this finds you well. From the looks of things, it is same as it ever was.
Regards,
Klemnop
The eve of yet another Clemson @ UNC game got me thinking about all my good times as a semi-regular contributor to DBR. I am pleased (and somewhat amazed) to see so many of the Usual Suspects still keeping this place as vibrant as ever.
Because I can clearly recall the workstation where I sat when I first joined DBR I can tell you it’s been nearly 20 years since that first, fateful message - which essentially launched a new era in my life of internet message board reading and posting. (I fondly remember needing an explanation from seasoned posters as to what the heck the ubiquitous “lol” meant.). That was the fall of 1999.
Thinking about posting has me nostalgic for what has happened in those 20 years.
My son, following in his dad’s footsteps, graduated from Clemson this past August. He was four (4) years old when I first started posting here. I could only hope, then, that he’d become the fine Clemson Man he’s become - though he never developed the love of Clemson Hoops I did.
My first daughter, two (2) years old then, has likewise followed in her mother’s footsteps, now enjoying her third year at Stanford as an Earth Systems major. She is determined to save the world...and if we’re all lucky she just might do it. One degree of ocean salinity at a time (or something like that.)
My last daughter wasn’t even a thought in 1999. (I argued we should have called her “Merlot”, but my wife didn’t think that was as clever as I did at the time, thankfully.) She’s now a Senior in HS and has already accepted and confirmed her spot in the Reed College incoming Freshman class of 2018.
I achieved some level of notoriety in DBR lore for my “promise”. I never grow tired of recanting the tale:
In the Spring of 1989 I attended my first ever Clemson at UNC game (my best friend from HS was attending UNC...a friendship that has maintained and grown ever since then.) I was such a foolish young man, then. I harbored some hope that my beloved Tigers could win against anyone, anywhere. Such were the heady days of 1989 and ‘90. We lost that day (badly) to a team led by King Rice, Rick Fox and a slew of others. I walked away devastated.
I returned in 1990. More confident than ever. 1990! What a year! What a team. Elden Campbell, Dale Davis, Marion Cash, Sean Tyson...and the King of Junk Defenses, Cliff Ellis, calling the shots. That team won the ACC Regular Season, eclipsing Fire and Ice, Lethal Weapon 3, Hurley/Laettner, Bryant Stith and the rest of those (mostly) great ACC teams I remember by heart. And we did beat UNC in Littlejohn that year. But, once again, we were baldy demoralized in the Dean Dome.
In the moments walking away from the arena, up a steep hill toward the UNC dorms, I looked back and paused. In a prescient moment I said to my friend, “We’ll never win there.” At the time the streak must have been 35 or 40 games long. My friend, as all goods friends would, tried to console me. But I was young and angry and hurt.
“No, never. It’s never going to happen. Never.”
“In fact, I’m so sure, I promise if it ever should happen I’ll run to the front of the Planetarium (that’s right there on Franklin Street, for those that need a little Chapel Hill geography), I’ll strip naked and dangle myself from the statue there.”
Having not a million dollars (or anything else worth promising) that was, in the moment, the most fantastic thing I could think to offer.
In 1991 I returned to Chapel Hill, ready as ever to disrobe. And 1992. And 1993. After a while life intervened and I stopped making the trip to Chapel Hill. But I always tried to stay in shouting distance on the day of the game, just in case.
But the 90’s turned into the 2000’s. And the 2000’s turned into the 20-teens. And here we are, heading into the 59th game in Chapel Hill for Clemson. My dignity fully in tact.
Some years ago I posted here on DBR that I’m not sure I want the streak to end. There’s something interesting about “never”. And I’m not sure the joy of one moment will fill the hole that would be created by becoming a 1-fer. In a lot of ways I’ve stopped caring very much (which is another essay I may yet write about my hate-don’t care relationship with Brad Brownell). But I do care about my history and the outcome of this game continues to evolve me, year over year, in a way I can’t quite put my finger on.
I’ll be in Middletown, CT on Tuesday night. Far, far from Chapel Hill. There wouldn’t be any dangling on my part in Chapel Hill should the unthinkable transpire. That makes me a little bit sad. And then I remind myself that the fundamental premise of “the promise” is that it will never happen. Never.
A shout-out to DBR. This community was a formative part of my life and I have always enjoyed thinking back on my time here. I hope this finds you well. From the looks of things, it is same as it ever was.
Regards,
Klemnop