All-In [49613]
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Sunday sermon: When Grandpa goes senile...
Jan 19, 2014, 11:33 AM
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I was planning to praise the basketball team and offer words of encouragement for the upcoming death march. I was going to castigate those of little faith who try to read a pronouncement of doom into one bad game. I was ...
Then Grandpa went senile.
It was bound to happen sooner or later. There we were, at the annual recognition supper for Sunday school perfect attendance and Grandpa just strutted up to the lectern, a bit of drool and half-eaten green bean casserole dangling from his chin ... and he started blabbering. Maybe it was his meds, maybe another small synapse in his brain began misfiring, maybe he saw someone else getting praise and he just couldn't stand not being the center of the universe like he used to be.
It was at that moment I realized I was living a small slice of a Gamecock fan's life.
You see, I love my Grandpa. He's the greatest man I know. In his time, he was a local legend, a bit of a braggart at times, but heck it was part of his charm.
It wasn't so charming to see Grandpa wobbling in front of God and man, stealing the spotlight from fifth and sixth graders.
Ignore these basketball players ... pay attention to ME!
It was a bit like watching Steve Spurrier yesterday. In the middle of a "Legends of Gamecock basketball" celebration, the wrinkled, semi-sauced self-appointed funnyman of poultrydom decided to steal Frank McGuire's spotlight for his own. By now you know the gist of his spiel. And the fans, so desperate for anything to cheer about in yet another train wreck of a basketball season, egged him on.
I'm well past caring what semi-senile people ramble on about. I live with one, changing bedpans and pads, chasing imaginary lizard out of the room at 4 in the morning, arguing without end about the phantom Pakistani midgets that creep down from the attic to sing gospel songs that on Grandpa can hear.
After a while, you just accept the fact that he's out of his mind half the time and make sure his collards are cut into bite-sized pieces. But I can only imagine the chorus of craziness that accompanies advancing senility in Columbia.
I remain thankful our coach doesn't crave the media spotlight like a visored crack #####. He didn't come out in a Legends of Basketball weekend at Clemson and steal the spotlight. He didn't bother to say that our All-American defensive end had 4 times the sacks of the Capons' first rounder AND he's going to leave Clemson with a degree and a first round pick of his own.
Nope, Dabo's dagger went straight into the withered heart of an alcoholically embalmed zombie of a coach and those who cling to his desperate gambits for attention. Dabo and Clemson have something he will NEVER possess.
I'll repeat that, since I know senile folks have trouble grasping reality at times. They will NEVER have what Clemson has, and nothing he can cluck or strut or drool about will change it.
My only advice to folks who still get worked up about the ravings of a raving Florida prune is this: ignore the sad creature. He was human once like you, and deserves our pity, not umbrage.
Remember the bowl game? Heck, I can't remember my shirt!
And, if any of Grandpa's clucking syncophants come up waving five fingers or trying to thrust thumbs where they don't belong, simply ask them "Now, who did y'all play again? Did you win your bowl game? I'm sorry, I can't recall."
It's obvious Grandpa can't recall, either. He hasn't mentioned it since.
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