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Prelude to the A-10 Tournament
3/10/05
by Clay

Like conquering (being defined as occasionally talking to women) two for tuesday's heroes, Tardio and I returned to the fields of our limited conquests last night to knock back a few beers and enjoy the chance to relive our past glories.

I knew we were in for a rough night when I realized that the only games on television were Oral Roberts-Oakland and Louisiana-Lafayette (the dash left me expecting more)-Denver. Plus I arrived a solid half-hour before Tardio. Which meant I sat alone on a stool and pretended I was really interesting in Oakland-Oral Roberts in the hope that no one in the bar would notice I was drinking alone. Of course this false interest was predicated upon the fact that someone in the entire bar would have to car about my presence, which was decidedly not the case. Regardless about the time that 12-18 Oakland hit an off-balance three to win a tournament bid, Tardio came strolling into the bar. As I sat contemplating where Oral Roberts was now legitimate competition for GW in the at-large NCAA tournament arena (these are the things that being a GW fan leads to), Tardio ordered his first round of beers.

I was on to beer three at this point and Tardio immediately called attention to our pathetic table by ordering an entire pizza as well even though there were just the two of us. The waitress arrived and made a big show of putting down a pizza-holding tray (for some reason Sam's in Nashville is the only bar I've ever been to that has such precious tables they can't be touched by pizza trays). Once the tray was on the table there was barely room for Tardio and I. We then talked about all sorts of important things that don't need to be fully examined here, like what the crowd was like at the Vanderbilt Rec Center (per Tardio he felt like a missionary in Calcutta; note for the 27 evidently most Indians at Vandy don't go on Spring Break), what it was like to be a medical malpractice lawyer, and whether or not Stallone deserves boxing credence for his opinions on The Contender.

The pizza then arrived and Tardio pointed out that in the entire bar there were approximately two attractive girls and they appeared to be lesbians. About this time an asian man with a mohawk began hitting on the two potential lesbians and they inexplicably offered him a seat. It was only ten minutes later that we noticed they never returned from their bathroom break. Since I had already eaten Tardio ate as much of the pizza as he could alone. We both continued to drink beers and about the time Tardio asked for a doggy bag to take home the remainder of his pizza, I realized we were no longer the least bit cool.

As an aside, Tardio taking home leftover food from two for Tuesdays surpassed the 27's previous dorkiest move of the bar when he double missed his mouth with a beer bottle while checking out girls. Beer just poured all over his chin and down the front of his shirt and he just kept saying with a silly grin, "I just missed my mouth."

From the asian guy with a mohawk we somehow moved the conversation to the little asian man from Ocean's 12 and then started talking about how old George Clooney was. Of course this devolved into a huge debate. Tardio insisted that Clooney was not 50 and I insisted that he was. (After a late night google check I now know he is 44 and Tardio turns out to be correct). Then we began to lament the Titans potential performance in the secondary next season (they have cut both defensive backs) and began to sing the praises of our favorite member of the Titans defense. Tony "Big Play" Beckham. If you could make up a roster of fantasy football players who consistently get toasted but continue to play with reckless abandon and confidence, Beckham would have to be a first round pick. I decided that the Titans only strength was at linebacker and Tardio disagreed and uttered the memorable phase, "Rocky Boiman is going to lead the league in 8 yard-gain tackles."

Not five minutes later, who should roll into the bar but Rocky Boiman himself. Sans entourage he entered with only one companion, a small man in a large jacket and they proceeded to order water with lemon from the bar and begin chatting with the only solitary girls in the entire bar. These girls were unattractive and Tardio and I were a bit disappointed in Boiman. Tardio and I agreed that for nights such as these, Boiman had to have 8-10 chicks on speeddial to join him out at bars. After about an hour a girl who looked like a stripper arrived and we were about to give deserving props to Rocky for hitting the speeddial, but she paid him no heed and ordered an actual drink at the bar.

Finally the night ended, and Tardio and I walked outside (before midnight) with his leftover pizza clutched close to his chest to ward off the chill of the night. It was Spring Break at Vandy, I was married, Tardio had a doggy bag, and Rocky Boiman was still knocking back waters with lemon, we were no longer in law school and the shining part of the night was our observation that Louisiana-Lafayette's cheerleading squad was much more distinguished than their basketball team.

It was Tuesday night and still two days from the A-10 basketball tournament. I left to drive home to my parent's house.