Grateful

The last few weeks have been pretty trying.  I've held it together for the most part.  I want to say thank you to my small group for being there for us.  I know that I can talk to all of them, and they genuinely care about what I'm saying.  I haven't talked a whole lot, but I know I could if I needed to.  I want to say thank you to my old friends that have been around through it all.  Even though time and distance separate us, I'm appreciative for your care and concern.  Thank you for the pep talks. Thank you for just saying how sorry you are.  This whole thing hasn't made a lot of sense from the beginning.  It's good to know that there are people that are just there to lean on.  Thank you for being those people.  Thank you to my wife for being very patient and understanding.  Thank you for letting me have a minute to process this.  Thank you for being there for my parents.  Thank you to my parents for raising me to be the man that can be strong for them when they're not strong.  Again, this hasn't made sense from the beginning, and I know it never will for you two.  If you've made, or bought food, sent flowers, or cards, or texted, or hugged, or cried, or laughed, or sent flowers, or shared your memories of my brother, thank you.  I'm thankful for you.  I'm thankful for a God of grace and mercy,  that has a plan (that doesn't make a whole lot of sense sometimes), who is still in charge of all of this.  Thank you.  Thank you for Jesus.  I'm thankful that I'm not worried about where my brother is today. 

Josh's Puzzle

How do you sum up someone’s life after they’re gone? We all have pieces of the puzzle that made up Josh’s life.  I have a few pieces, my parents have a number of pieces, all of you, his family and friends have the other pieces.  Some of them are jagged and rough and take a little work to fit  together with the other ones  Some of them fit right together just like they were made to do.  At the end of it all, we got to see the finished work.  Joshua is in the place now where the puzzle started.  He’s with the creator of the puzzle.  He’s with the one that saw it all come together.  God saw us in Josh’s life. He knew just how we would fit together with Josh.

Let’s start at the beginning.  Josh was born on September 25 1979, early in the morning.  He came out of the womb making noise, and he didn’t stop until he had to.  One of my earliest memories of my baby brother is, not too long after he came home, I remember seeing this tiny intruder that cried and made noise, and took all of the attention away, and seeing a bottle of downy on the counter and thinking that it was a really good idea to pour it all over him.  He may have been a few months old and it just seems like he had just come home, but I really don’t know. He was a little guy though.  Josh was always into something.  He was busy all the time.  He loved playing outside with his hot wheels.  He would spend hours playing outside.  Since we grew up in the late 70’s and 80’s, we were left to play outside quite a bit.  My PawPaw had come out to our house one to get our air conditioner going for the summer.  My Dad worked crazy hours in those days, so my PawPaw came out to help my Mom.  We had a swamp cooler on the roof.  My PawPaw was using a ladder to get up and down of course.  He went to go get some parts, or check on the water or something.  My Mom came outside to come get us for lunch and didn’t see Josh.  She asked me where he was, I had no idea.  She saw the ladder and said, there’s no way is there?  She climbed the ladder and saw little two year old Josh up on the roof playing in the air conditioner water like it was no big deal.  She was freaked out.  Josh was sad that he couldn’t play in the water anymore.  Josh would climb anything.  He had great balance as well. 

Josh was a pretty scrawny kid.  He was skinny, but he had skinny little arms and legs for a long time.  My Dad called him Grover.  Remember Grover from Sesame Street?  If you don’t, google image him, and that’s what Josh’s arms and legs looked like for a long time.  My Dad called him that forever.  It was always a great nickname, and it was something that only He and my Dad had. 

Josh was pretty active. Hyperactive.  It was hard to get him to settle down.  If he was growing up today, I know that someone probably several someone’s would’ve wanted him on rydalin.  I seem to remember him getting tested, but my parents said nah, he’s just being a boy.  Josh was hyperactive.  He was always moving around and up to something.  Outside doing something, inside, doing something.  One time when he was in first grade he was sliding and somehow broke his tailbone.  There isn’t a cast that a doctor can put on a tailbone.  I wish there was because I would’ve made fun of Josh mercilessly for having his butt in a cast.  Needless to say, a few days after he broke his tailbone, he decided that it would be a great idea to moon the playground.  So he did.  Full moon.  He was sent to the principal’s office and since in those days and in small towns, the principal was allowed to swat kids with a paddle, unless you had a note (we never had a note) the normal punishment would’ve been two swats.  Since Josh had a broken tailbone, he was the first 1^st grader to be suspended from school.  My Grandpa drilled water wells.  My Dad worked a job, my Mom worked a job.  So Josh’s “punishment” was to go with my grandpa and work.  I remember my Grandpa telling my Dad the story.  I remember his mannerisms, and the joy he told the story with.  He said Joe I swear, I turned around to shift the rig into gear, and I turned back around and Josh was gone.  My Grandpa was working alone that day, so he had to shut down and go on a manhunt.  Josh had ran off somewhere to go play or check on what caught his attention at that moment.  My Grandpa was too happy that he found him, than to be mad at him. 

When he was little, Josh was best friends with his cousin Stefanie.  They remained close for as long as I can remember.  I remember them being very little, like 4 maybe.  They were riding their tricycles and decided that it would be a good idea to strip naked and ride their tricycles.  That was a little controversial I seem to remember.  They would jump in the pile of leaves that my PawPaw would rake up.  They would ride around in the wheelbarrow while my PawPaw pushed them.  They were very close. 

Josh made a few different efforts to play sports.  He was never very athletic. His attention span was also an issue.  I would try to help him out with baseball.  He was beyond my help.  Because of his skill set, he always played right field.  Right field in little league baseball is no man’s land.  You aren’t dealing with right handed hitters that like to take it to the opposite field.  I remember on more than one occasion being at his baseball games, and hearing the coach get onto him for not paying attention to the game.  I mean not at all.  He would take his glove off and squat down and play in the dirt, or he would chase butterflies, anything besides what was going on in the game.  He tried basketball as well, again it just wasn’t his thing.  My Dad and I were always into sports.  We would watch football, basketball, baseball, one would bleed into the other and Josh could not have cared less.  Every once in a while, Josh would try to talk to me about what was going on with the Longhorns, or the Cowboys, in an effort to bond with me. Since 95% of the conversations I have involve those two things, I have a lot to say.  I would talk to him about if for 3 minutes or so and I would see his eyes glaze over and say “Josh, I appreciate the effort.”  We didn’t relate to each other on a lot of things, but Josh would always try, and I always appreciated it. 

Josh loved cars.  He would sit for hours playing with cars. I know we could’ve left him out all night playing with his cars, and he would have no idea that it was night time, or that he was hungry.  We would be driving places, and he would always notice tires.  He loved tires, it was weird.  I had to get a couple of tires the other day, and I know he would’ve noticed that they’re different.  He would’ve asked me why they weren’t matching.  I called Discount Tire the other day to make an appointment.  When I gave them my phone number, the guy asked, “is this Jarod or Josh?”  I’ll never take him off the account.  He was always deeply involved in the care of my tires.  Every time I get a new set, I will remember that and smile.  He was rough at times. He had some hard edges, but there wasn’t anyone that was more helpful to me in certain areas of my life than my brother.  It may not seem like a big deal to you, but on more than one occasion, he would take my car, or my mom’s car, or my mom’s fleet of flower delivery vans, and deal with the tires.  It was a big deal to me.

I have no idea how many cars he helped people buy.  He would go to the dealership with people, and sit and wrangle a deal with them. Josh knew the ins and outs of car buying.  He knew where the scams were.  He knew where the discounts were.  He loved haggling a car deal.  He was good at it.  He was a car salesman a couple of different times.  He love helping people buy cars. 

He was a claims adjuster.  I always thought it was his calling.  He studied, he could look at the damage and assess if there was frame damage, or if it was minor, or he had an almost innate ability to know if there was more damage than what was visible.  He was always right.  He never got in trouble for his recommendations.  They were always spot on.  He was always exactly right in his damage assessment.  He walked me through the claims process a couple times.  Everyone in our family would call him and see what they should do.  Any number of friends would ask him for his help with a claim and he would just take over and get it taken care of.  I had a claim done one time and he took care of it. I got a check in the mail for way more than I ever would’ve gotten.  He did that stuff all the time.  He would just help.

A couple months ago, I was visiting him in the hospital and we were talking about cars.  He was asking about my car.  He asked about Christa’s car.  He couldn’t remember what it was.  I said, it’s a chevy traverse.  He said, “Jarod, a chevy? Really?”  I said Christa wanted the third row seat.  He said “ok, but I can’t believe you bought a chevy”.  He was a Ford guy and a Nissan guy.  He would spend hours researching cars.  He was part of a Nissan forum.  We had a transmission go out on one Nissan.  He found one in some part of the country and saved a lot of money even after getting it shipped because he was so into cars.  He talked to people everywhere about cars.  I always wanted him to get rich because I knew he would have some pretty sweet rides. 

Over these last few days, there have been a flood of memories about Josh.  We would be here for hours if I told you about all of them that I have.  He would fidget all the time.  It would drive me nuts.  He was always rolling something between his fingers.  He would grab coffee straws and he would roll them in his fingers all day.  I wondered if he would ever rub his fingerprints off.  There would always be a bunch of them in his car.  He would drive with one hand, and roll the straw in his other.  I don’t know of anyone else that does that.  It was uniquely his thing.  I would always try to figure out why he did it.  He didn’t know, and for the life of me I don’t have a good explanation for it. 

Because of his love for cars, Josh loved driving.  He loved road trips.  Most of the time, I dread them.  Not Josh.  He was up for one all the time.  When he first started driving, it was the best.  He took over the duty of driving my Granny all over the state of New Mexico every other weekend.  I may be exaggerating the number of them.  But he took her anywhere she wanted to go.  He wasn’t held back by things called speed limits.  And my Granny loved it. When I would take her on trips, she would ask me why I was going so slow. What’s really funny about that, is, I have always driven 5-10 miles an hour above the speed limit.  So I’m really not sure how fast he would drive with her, but she never told him to slow down.  Josh loved her.  She introduced him to gospel music.  When I would drive her, if we couldn’t listen to my music, I would drive in silence.  Not Josh.  She would bring her Gaither Vocal band tapes and he’d pop them in and enjoy it.  One of the things that remains a mystery to me to this day, and I’ll never understand it, is how much Josh loved gospel music.  I can’t stand it.  I’ll listen to it ironically, but I don’t ever just causally listen to it and enjoy it.  Josh did.  I think it was because of my Granny.  She always care for Josh. She would never judge him.  She would just take him as he was.  All of his hyperactivity, I never remember her getting on to him.  She was supremely patient with him.  She loved him so much.  He loved her so much. He was devastated when she passed away.  He stayed close to her his whole life.  It was a truly unique relationship.  He always showed up for her.  When he moved away from her, he would go see her as often as he could.  He would call her.  He would send people to go check in on her.  I remember one time, some maintenance had gone past due for quite a while on her car because Josh would normally just take care of it.  He was appalled to see how far past due for an oil change she was.  He immediately when and got it changed, took it to the car wash and cleaned it and brought it back.  He would pretty much do that every time he came back for visit.  He adored his Granny.  I am glad that they are together today.  I know she prayed for him and was always very interested in his success.  I’m glad that they’ve been reunited. 

Joshua loved my Mom and Dad.  He was always close to them.  Well, he was always close with my Mom.  As he got older, he became closer with my Dad.  My Dad and Josh butted heads while he was growing up, but what kid doesn’t butt heads with the parent they were most like?  Josh would always press my Dad’s limits.  He knew how to push my Dad’s buttons.  From the end of my 8^th grade year until, I can’t remember, we were remodeling our house.  We added a giant addition and remodeled the rest of it.  It seemed like it took forever.  At some point in there, we had to reroof it.  My Dad had this grand plan of all of us working hard to reroof it.  A couple of his friends came and helped.  Josh was out there for a bit.  We were scraping the shingles off.  It was hard work because there were several layers of shingles.  Josh was giving his usual effort when it came to doing something that he didn’t want to do. Which means, no effort.  He was lazily moving the scraper across the top of the shingles.  In frustration, my Dad yelled, Josh, get off the roof, which is exactly what Josh wanted. Aaron and I were amazed at his ability to pull this off and we tried to do it, it didn’t work.  Josh was inside sipping lemonade and pointing and laughing at us every time he saw us going to get something for my Dad. I was mad at that moment, but now I completely admire it. As Josh grew older, he became closer and closer to my parents. I’m glad that they had the type of relationship they did. Joshua loved them both very much. 

I honestly don’t know how to end this.  I kind of don’t want to because it seems so final.  I will miss my brother.  There will always be a hole in my heart because he isn’t here anymore.  I know that as my boys grow older that he would’ve been a great uncle to them.  He didn’t know how to relate to them as babies, but I know he would’ve showed them how to work on cars, taken them for ice cream, taught them how to do armpit farts.  He would’ve taught them any number of things that I would’ve had to have gotten onto him for, but I wish he was still here for that stuff.  That will always make me sad.  I know there was so much left undone.  I want to you to know that I don’t despair.  I’m mourning my brother passing at way too young of an age.  I hate that he died at 37.  I do know this.  He is in Heaven.  He is in the place that he belongs.  He’s home.  He told to the doctor a couple of days before he passed that he was ready to see Jesus.  I take solace in that.  The peace that I feel in my soul comes from the fact that I know he is with our creator.  There’s a large part of my soul that longs to be there as well.  I’ll never worry about him again.  He isn’t sick any longer.  He doesn’t have any regrets anymore.  He’s home.  He’s where his soul belongs.  I don’t mourn without hope.  I mourn because I don’t have him here anymore, but he’s always with me.  Every time I see a quirky chicken, I’ll think of Josh.  Every time an inappropriate comment comes to my mind, I’ll think of Josh.  Every time I need new tires, or get into a fender bender, I’ll think of Josh.  He was my brother.  We didn’t always get along, but we always loved each other.  I know he died loving me.  I know he died with me loving him.  I’m sad that he’s gone.  I’m happy he’s home. 

So those are some of the pieces of my Josh puzzle.  There are many, many others.  I’m sure that for the rest of my life, I’ll be collecting pieces.  That puzzle is now complete in eternity.  Josh is in Heaven.  His puzzle is complete. And it is beautiful.  

Joshua

 I've always found that I can get trapped in my own brain.  I tend to think about something every way possible, and then double back and think about it in every other way that it can be thought of.  I'm struggling with the thought that this post may be self serving.  I have to get it out of my brain though.  My brother Josh has been very ill for a long time now.  I don't know how much longer we'll have him with us.  I want to tell him the things that I've never been able to tell him for whatever reason. First, I'm really going to miss you.  I always appreciated your honesty.  Sometimes, I thought you were too honest, but I always appreciated it.  I knew I would never get the answer that I WANTED to hear, but your honest thoughts made a number of things I attempted to do, better.
 I've always appreciated your loyalty.  I have never known anyone that was as devoted to people as you are.  Your friends were never left in need if you had a way to help them.  Your devotion to our parents is something that I always admired.  You always called, or showed up late at night, drove hundreds of miles, to be there.  You were at so many more things than me.  I always thought I was "too busy".  You never were.  Anniversaries, birthdays, or just to pop in for the weekend,  you showed up.
 I've told you a thousand times how sorry I am for the way I treated you when we were kids.  I'm still sorry.  It's the biggest regret of my life.  I should've been a better brother.  I should've been more supportive.  I'm trying to make it up by raising my boys to be better brothers to each other than I was to you when we were growing up.  I can't get in a time machine and go fix anything, but know that I truly wish I could.  You didn't deserve to be treated that way.  But remember when I chased down kids that were mean to you on more than one occasion?  Remember when I scared the crap out of those kids in the alley?  I did do a few things that made me a good brother on occasion.   The only thing I know to do is to try to be better now.  I never told you this, but there was a decision I made a number of years back to try to stop telling you how to live your life and just be present when I was around you.  I made an effort on several occasions just to be there for you.  I hope you noticed.  You always made me laugh.  Some of the things you've said in your life have given me the full body tremors,  but I laughed at more things than I shuddered at.  I've always wanted the best for you.  I've stayed up late at night praying for you.  I've spent a number of hours on long road trips with you.  I wish I would have cherished those road trips more.  We always had our deeper conversations on those trips.  I'd pay a good amount of money for another one right now.  I don't want to get sappy and sad because that's now who we are.  That's not what our relationship is, but I'm glad you're my brother.  I'm glad for the time that we've had.  I don't know how much more time we have.  I honestly hope it's a good, long time, but if we don't, I love you.  I'm glad you're in my life.  You mean a lot to me.  I always thought about you when we lived in different parts of America.
 Keep fighting.  You aren't gone yet.  I believe God is the healer.  I want to you know before you go, that there will be a huge hole in my heart, but we'll see each other again. You are loved.  You matter.
I love you Josh.

What I'm looking for

So I like U2.  You can hate them, that's fine, it's your life.  You can't argue with their success though. Huge hits.  Massive hits in the 90's, that still sell out show after show.  I saw them a few years ago.  It was a bucket list item.  This post isn't about U2, you can keep reading.  The other night, I listened to "I still haven't found what I'm looking for".  I love that song.  It's one of my favorites. I asked myself why I haven't found what I'm looking for.  I've found some of the things I'm looking for.  I found and incredible wife.  I've found two sons that I love more than anything.  I've found a family that I will do just about anything for.  I've found friends that I will have for the rest of my life.  I've found a lot of things that would seemingly make someone feel like there isn't anything left to look for.  I've found Saturdays filled with college football.  I've found joy when I see the smoke coming out of my smoker cooking meat that a bunch of my friends and family are going to enjoy. I've found that feeling you get when you hear someone sing or play a song that touches your soul and you can't explain it, but you know what I'm talking about.  I've found that feeling of God's presence on occasion.  I've found that feeling of saying a prayer and knowing that God is listening.  I've found that feeling of knowing that I can be content that the answer to said prayer is going to be the right one because He knows better than me what the answer should be.  I've found the feeling of being outside looking up at the stars, that this isn't it.  I've found the feeling of being at a massive football game coming down to the wire and not knowing which way it was going to go.  I've found the feeling you get when you make someone belly laugh.  I've found a lot of things.  But I still haven't found what I'm looking for.

Why?

Because it's not here.  This, this isn't my home.  The longer I'm here, the more I know I don't belong here.  I'm being pushed out.  I'm uncomfortable.  I don't belong.  There are moments that come when I do belong.  But in the waining moments, I know this isn't home.  It's a little like living in Arizona, knowing that you belong in Texas.  A little like that, but massively different.  This world is great at times.  I love being here.  I appreciate everything that I've worked for and been given here.  This isn't my home.  My soul is longing to be where Jesus is. Sometimes I can feel my insides tearing, trying to go home.  I can't wait until that day.  I can't wait to see Him.  I still haven't found what I'm looking for because I can't see it with these eyes.

A Veteran's Day post

I've been annoyed.  Annoyed with a lot of things.  It's like a low level hum from the fluorescent ceiling lights in generic offices.  You can't really tell it's there, but you are annoyed by it somewhere deep in the recesses of you brain.  It all accumulates into an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness and isolation.  I want to drop out.
 
This is where this blog post changes.

I want to thank the men and women that have put on a uniform in service to our country.  It doesn't matter to me if you were on the front lines, or in the rear with the gear.  You put it on the line.  I didn't.  You woke up at ungodly hours to train for the worst.  I didn't.  You ate crappy food and appreciated it. I didn't.  You spent several tours away from your family.   I didn't.  You don't get paid enough.  If I was in charge, my first move would be to double your salary, and it still wouldn't be enough.  Your kids have grown and changed since you've been gone, I got to see everyday of my boy's lives.  You slept on rocks, on cots, and with a bunch of smelly dudes.  I didn't.  You were in 130 degree desert, I was only in a 115 degree desert.  You've had to move your family wherever you're told,  I haven't.  You're wives have asked themselves is this worth it? Mine hasn't (at least I don't think she has). You have been in countries and couldn't have a cold beer at the end of a hard work day. I haven't.  You've served under leaders you don't agree with, but you swore an oath to defend our country. I haven't. You've had too many friends that didn't come home from there. I haven't.  You've seen ungodly things that you'll never speak of outside of the circle of guys that saw the same things.  I haven't.

Thank you for serving.  Thank you for your sacrifice.  I appreciate you.  You will always be spoken of with respect in my house.  My sons will know that we appreciate our servicemen.  You will not be looked at with disdain by and Tomblin in my house.  I don't have the words to tell you the amount of respect I have for you, but this was my attempt.

The Lights

When I was a kid, we would take road trips at night.  My brother and I would eventually fall asleep in the backseat, without car seats, and without seat belts.  There was a time in my life that I was small enough to curl up and sleep in the back seat of a car, or on the ledge where the car speakers were.  I remember driving across southeastern New Mexico into west Texas seeing lights from all the small towns that dot that part of the map.  The lights are deceiving though, they leave you with the thought that you are closer to your destination than you are.  That part of the country is dark at night when there is no moon.  We don't get that out here because Phoenix takes an hour and fifteen minutes to drive across.  It's never dark.  But out in west Texas, there are large expanses of darkness in between the lights. 

Life is that way too.  Large expanses of dark in between the lights.  Its daunting and scary when you're out there alone.  I remember going fishing on rivers at night without the moon, or a fire, or a lantern, it was scary.  There is no sense of direction, no sense of destination.  When we would get a good pallet fire going though, it seemingly lit up miles around because the darkness that surrounded was so relentless.

My life has had those dark places as well. Large expanses of darkness in between the lights. I have let myself walk away from the light and into the darkness and gotten lost on several occasions.  Before I met Christa, there was a huge expanse of darkness that I had gone into.  Bad directions, bad decisions always lead to the darkness. The amount of time you spend in the darkness is often dependent on perspective.  If you keep your head down searching for direction, you'll often keep going in a circle. 
If you keep your head up though, you can see that you may be in the darkness, but the light is there.  The light is hope.  The light is an answer.  Darkness seems to never end, but all you need is a little light to bring hope.  The closer you get to the light, the more you realize that you are surrounded by the light.

It seems pretty dark out there now.  It seems that the areas of light are getting farther and farther away.  I have really thought about dropping out of society.  It just seems that there isn't any place for me to be anymore.  Everything is awful.  Everything is ok now.  The only discrimination that truly exists in our society anymore is against people that want to be the light in the vast expanse of darkness.  I'm not going to drop out of society though.  I want people to see the light.  Your situation may seem hopeless and you need to see the light.  If that is you, know that I am rooting for you.  You aren't doomed to darkness. It's not your destiny to be lost and alone.  Look for the light.  Don't stop looking for the light. Be the light.  Someone is searching for the light.

Drunk on winning

If you haven't read the story of the Baylor football player that raped another Baylor student, a freshman soccer player, then stop and read it. http://www.texasmonthly.com/article/silence-at-baylor/
Don't read the comments on the article, you will lose hope in all humanity.  Up front, I love Texas Longhorns football.  While I don't like Baylor, they aren't near as bad as ou or a&m, as far as my hatred goes.  I like Art Briles quite a bit.  While he was here at the Fiesta Bowl a couple of years ago, he was interviewing to coach in Austin. At the time, I was pumped about the chances of him having UT as a backdrop to bring in the top football talent in the country.  All of the good that Art Briles has done in his life, in my opinion, has been erased by looking the other way because he had a guy transfer to his program that would be a bad ass on defense, without regard to the other people on his campus. That player raped a female student.  Again, his player raped a female Baylor student.  

Let's do a little back story.  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baylor_Bears_football.  The important numbers to the right of the page are these; the year they started playing football, their all time record (barely above .500), the number of national championships (0), and when their new stadium was built.  The only success that Baylor has had in their football program is with Art Briles as their head coach.  McClane is stadium should have his name on it.  It should, I'm not kidding. The problem with that, is when your name should be on the building, I think it's really easy to be short sighted.  I think winning becomes the only thing a guy can be concerned with at a certain point.  I don't think Briles is a bad person.  I think he made a horrible decision. I actually think he's made more horrible decisions that haven't been reported by the Waco media because they feed their families with Baylor football, or they are alumni and wear green and gold glasses.  Why didn't Briles dismiss the kid from the program until the case was either over, or he was convicted?  Why put all your eggs in this kid's basket?  It's really strange to me that Briles would try to cover all of this up. 

College football coaches aren't just college football coaches anymore. They're CEO's of massive companies.  Baylor football generated nearly $30 million last year.  That's a lot of money.  Baylor is worth $266 million.  Baylor, in Waco, is worth $266 million.  Unbelievable.  I can't imagine a CEO of a company willfully letting a man, who was indicted and later convicted of rape, just roam free on campus.  At best it's irresponsible, at worst, it's a crime. If you're willing to overlook a predator because you think he's going to sack the opposing team's quarterback a lot, you're just as responsible for the crime committed as the person who committed it.

The football season starts Thursday, Baylor plays on friday.  The announcers won't mention one word of this because Baylor is a preseason favorite to win it all.  I'll remember though.  That girl will remember.  Her Dad will remember.  I'm guessing that Art will too.  Your coach can't be bigger than your program.  Winning at all costs isn't winning when it's all said and done. I would hope that there are some Baylor higher ups that are losing some sleep because they're overlooking their own Baptist code of ethics on this matter.  If this was going on at UT, I would want Charlie fired immediately.

The fact that the jury in this case didn't want to give the guy any jail time, is bewildering.  The facts were clear.  The judge intervened and did the only thing that Texas state law would allow and at least gave him six months in jail.  I hope those are the longest six months of his life. I hope he comes out rehabilitated and understanding his depravity.  I'm hopeful for that, but I don't believe it.  This will happen again, to another innocent woman.  These people can't be fixed.  The correct response for a coach in all of these situations should be to not want to touch him with a ten foot pole.  Will Muschamp, the former coach at Florida, turned down this transfer.  Florida has a long storied history of letting anyone play there.  Not this guy though.  Strange.  It's almost as if there was some information on this kid that made him not want this guy.  I refuse to use his name.  He doesn't deserve it.  Good job Will Muschamp.  Way to look out for the ladies in Gainesville.  It may have been the best thing you did during your tenure as head coach.


A little disclaimer: these opinions are my own.  I don't have any inside info.  No one was consulted when I wrote this post.  Oh yeah. HOOK EM!