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Still Sidelined

My enforced idleness continues. Week 2 of the pneumonia portion of the season found me again spending a Saturday not in Wallace Wade Stadium but again watching football from my recliner. It is getting a little tiresome.

The Tech team didn’t seem to miss me, Vince Hall or even Tyrod as they administered their annual pounding of Duke. There had been much pre-game chatter about how this edition of Devils was much improved over the previous ones. Listening to a bit of the Duke radio pre-game found the announcers quite optimistic about their chances against Tech. Returning to the Duke network in the Third Quarter found Bob Harris talking about how Coach K might replace Josh McRoberts.

Duke did manage to score. Compared to their last two games against Tech, that did constitute a step in the right direction. Otherwise, it was the usual smack down as the Hokies continued to find the Devils their softest ACC touch.

The game marked the return of Sean Glennon, as the pounding Tyrod had been taking over the last few weeks produced the inevitable injury. Sean wasted little time in demonstrating that while Tyrod might be the better athlete, at this point in time Glennon is by far the better quarterback. Given a little protection by Tech’s patchwork offensive line, he picked the Duke secondary apart. It was also interesting to note that Tech’s receivers certainly got a lot better when being thrown to by the guy they had been working with for years. But enough about the game, as I am sure everyone wants to know about ME.

It was with no small amount of irritation on my part that the game was even played. I blame the Tech Athletic Director. I had e-mailed jimmy requesting that the game be postponed until such a time as I was well enough to attend. Since basketball practice has begun, few at Duke would have cared, or noticed, if the game wasn’t played. We saw how well that worked out.

Even worse than the total disregard for my ability to attend shown by jimmy and Duke’s Lackey Joe was the actions by those heartless bastards at the Clubhouse Tailgate. Despite my not being able to join them, they continue to get together for games.

I had considered myself such an integral part of the operation as to be practically indispensable. Surely without me around the tailgate would wither. That would appear to not be the case. Twice now, at Clemson and at Duke, they have cast all thoughts of me from their collective mind and continued to enjoy themselves. They don’t seem to miss me.

Not only do they not miss me, they don’t seem aware that I am not attending. A number of the tailgaters added insult to injury by showing up at my house the Sunday after the Duke game to chatter about what a good time they had. When I expressed my disappointment at being unable to attend, the reaction was, “You weren’t there? Are you sure? I could have sworn you were.” So much for what has often been referred to as ‘my’ tailgate.

While those unfeeling louts at the Clubhouse Tailgate were blithely and callously going about their business of preparing for the Duke tailgate without giving me a second thought, I was dragging myself from my sickbed and trudging back to see the Quack.

The Quack had taken note of the fact that I am buddies with the Hoo Lawyer, whose two favorite words are ‘malpractice lawsuit.’ Aghast at the thought of me tooling around town in his S600 or enjoying the view from his Barbados timeshare, the Quack had ordered that large amounts of blood be drawn from my person.

His vampire took about three gallons in order for tests to be run to determine whether I might have leukemia, SARS, AIDS, SIDS, Legionnaire’s Disease, bird flu, swine flu, reptile flu, PMS, Alzheimer’s, acne, Zoster Virus, atrial fibrillation, Mad Cow Disease, bad breath, whooping cough, the heartbreak of psoriasis, hives, Lupus, quadriplegia, Restless Leg Syndrome and anything else he could come up with to avoid having to submit to a witness stand grilling. I seem to have run-of-the-mill pneumonia.

Following the draining of virtually all of my blood, the Quack entered the examination room. Making little effort to hide his distaste of having to deal with sick people, he asked how was I feeling. The answer was worse, since my arm now hurt where the blood had been drawn.

The Quack did not seem overly thrilled when I inquired as to whether he was incapable of curing any illness, or merely the ones with which I am afflicted. He was not optimistic as to when I might get back into tailgating action, suggesting that I instead take up an indoor hobby such as stamp collecting or Internet porn. Having it explained to me that, given my surgically-weakened immune system, upcoming night games and the onset of cooler weather, returning to the tailgate or viewing a football game from inside a stadium would very likely have me again flat on my back was not exactly a great morale booster.

And so I continue my extended recuperation from an illness that leaves me in such a weakened condition that it is all I can do to journey from my bed to my recliner, with occasional forays to my office to determine that the Internet world is still functioning. It seems to be going along very smoothly despite the minimal contributions made by me these days. Oh, well. I shall continue to follow the doctor’s orders of staying inside, getting lots of rest, drinking plenty of fluids and, of course, viewing Internet porn.

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