Friday, April 20, 2007
Go Hokies ... enough said
Randy King
Randy King's Tech Insider is exclusive to roanoke.com and is posted by 5 p.m. Thursdays in season.
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Editor's note: Randy King's Virginia Tech Insider returns for the 2007 football season next Thursday, August 16.
With some banking chores to get done -- believe me, the load gets heavier when you have to settle for two kids' college tuition -- I decided I would take a respite from work Monday.
I had the day's itinerary down pat. It called for sleeping to 10 a.m., sucking down a cup of hot coffee to get the head jump-started, and then tuning in The Golf Channel at 10:30 to catch the weather-delayed final round of the Verizon Heritage Classic PGA Tour stop in Hilton Head, S.C.
It figured to be great stuff. The leaderboard was as crowded as a media buffet line. A short but classic Harbour Town Golf Links course, which may be the only thing tighter than my longtime Roanoke Times comrade, Doug Doughty. The horde in contention included: Ernie Els (anybody nicknamed the "Big Easy" is OK in my book); good guy Jerry Kelly, an ex-hockey player; Vaughn Taylor, who in case you didn't know it, was born in Roanoke, where he lived for "several weeks" until his father finished a six-month work assignment in the Star City; and Kevin Na, whom I know personally from covering his back-to-back wins in the Scott Robertson Memorial in 2000-01.
And then was a guy named "Boo." That would be Boo Weekley, a tobacco-chewin' and spittin' country boy from the Florida Panhandle whose spiels to the media include a lot of non-country club words like reckon and ain't.
Shortly before 1 o'clock, as the leaders all were getting ready to head to Harbour Town's final three holes, all wide-open to fierce winds howling off Calibogue Sound, I noticed the message light was blinking on my home phone. It was my sports editor, Jeff Gilbert, calling to inform me to get ready to spring into action due to a shooting spree on the Virginia Tech campus.
Immediately, I grabbed the remote changer and switched off the golf. I hit Channel 7 first, where I saw ambulances with red lights shining. I flicked next to Channel 10, where I saw what appeared to be SWAT team members running with rifles in hand. In the picture, I noticed the beautifully done building architecture. I didn't go to Tech, but I've spent enough time in Blacksburg to know Hokie Stone, the predominantly gray dolomite limestone that is quarried locally, just miles from the campus.
Boo Weekley? This was just plain Boo.
My efforts to quickly find out what in the world was transpiring on a campus in which my 18-year-old son, Justin, will call home come fall, were short-lived. A second after hearing a huge "boom" outside my bedroom window, the television faded to black. The power was out.
A huge tree bordering the only road that leads into the subdivision where my home is located had been bent at a 45-degree angle from high winds and was resting atop the neighborhood's power and telephone lines.
Soon, the street was cordoned off by yellow tape like some kind of crime scene. Compared to what already had occurred on the Tech campus, this was mere tiddlywinks.
No television. No phones. No Internet. Suddenly, I was stuck with no link to hear was what was going down in Blacksburg. I called the office on my cell phone, only to be crushed by news that possibly as many as 20 people had been killed in the shooting rampage. I found out a couple hours later that the number of fatalities had risen to more than 30.
I sat on the bed. I punched a couple of pillows as hard as I could. My eyes wept up. I couldn't hold back.
As nightfall hit, I grabbed the keys to my 1996 Olds Ciera. I wasn't going anywhere. Our neighborhood was on lockdown, too, at this point. Angry and upset, I thought maybe I could turn on the car radio, twist the dial, and find a major-league baseball game somewhere. I needed the serenity.
Unbelievably, I couldn't find a game anywhere. As I panned left to right on the dial, I found a sports talk show about every quarter-inch or so. One in Pittsburgh ... St. Louis ... Atlanta ... Louisville ... at least two in New York. At every stop on the dial I heard the unfathomable words ... "folks, we're talking about Virginia Tech tonight, site of the worst mass shooting spree in United States history."
If I had had a beer, I would have torpedoed the thing. This was unreal. This was surreal.
I sat there for close to two hours. I kept hearing such words as "The Bloodbath at Virginia Tech" and "The Virginia Tech Massacre." I was angry. I pounded the steering wheel several times. Didn't help matters.
Already, some of the talking heads and call-in guests were pointing fingers of blame at Tech president Charles Steger and Virginia Tech Police Chief Wendell Flinchum.
Finally, at 880 AM (WCBS in New York) on the dial, I heard someone speak with reasonable passion.
The host of the show, whose name I don't recall, says: "It's been a bad day. I was watching TV today and saw a death count on the crawler at the bottom of the screen. I just assumed it was the numbers from Iraq. Then I saw the words 'Massacre at Virginia Tech.' My heart pours out to the Virginia Tech campus and the families who lost loved ones there today."
The host then said: "Let's go to Big John from Long Island. What's on your mind, Big John?"
"To hell with the Islanders and the Devils," the husky voice bellowed. "I've been watching this Virginia Tech thing all day. What a horrible story. This sucks.
"Mariano Rivera blowing a save [Sunday] at Oakland? So what. Who cares?"
I wanted to hug Big John. He was so right.
Tuesday came and went. Still no power at the house. It was such a trite point when compared to what had transpired at Tech. It gave me ample opportunity to sit down and talk with my son, who only six days before had excitedly ripped open the letter that informed him he had been accepted at Tech.
I asked my son point blank: "After what happened today, do you still want to go to school at Virginia Tech?"
The big offensive lineman just shrugged his shoulders and defiantly said: 'Yes. I think it's even more reason to go there. The way those kids up there have handled themselves through this whole ordeal has given me even more desire to go to Tech. I'm not going to let the actions of one guy keep me from doing what I want to do.' "
For the first time in two days, I smiled and laughed.
Yeah, I cover Virginia Tech football for The Roanoke Times. I've chronicled the Hokies' rise to national prominence since taking over the beat at the 1994 Gator Bowl. I'm not a Tech cheerleader. My job doesn't allow that.
For that reason only, I'm glad I was alone when I got teary-eyed when the Tech students, faculty and fans started chanting "Lets Go Hokies" following Nikki Giovanni's powerful, passionate speech at the end of Tuesday's convocation ceremony in Cassell Coliseum.
For years, I've told my comrades in this business that I always thought it was much easier to rip somebody than sing their praises. That said, on the heels of this deplorable tragedy I'm taking my one lifetime free pass.
Go Hokies, I say.
And anyone who says "Boo" to that, my retort is already sitting on the tee: "Did that guy really chip in for par on the final two holes to win his first PGA tournament?"
