In Search of Dickie Longerbeam

It's football season again. One thing we all learned in the South is to at least fein an interest in an SEC team, and if we're really good, we actually pay attention and are aware of season wins and losses. I grew up in Mississippi, where college football is akin to religion — a once a week "come to Jesus" experience.


The other evening, a friend told us about a friend from her Virginia Tech days. Not an SEC team, but we'll acknowledge their program just the same. This friend was a great running back. For awhile, he may have held the school's record for rushing yards in a single season. According to a book about VA Tech football, he even broke his neck and lived to tell about it. But what impresses me about Dickie Longerbeam isn't how he performed on the field — it's his name.


I mean, c'mon. Dickie Longerbeam? Don't think we didn't giggle over our wine glasses on that one.


What struck me the most was how my friend described the way Dickie presents himself, as in, "Honey, I'm pleased to meet you, but you are not ready for my name." Apparently, Dickie embraces himself for who he is and has put it all right there on the line, on and off the field. (And yes, I'm sure many of you are drawing off-color inferences from that last sentence.)


I've never met Dickie Longerbeam, but I've gotta admire his approach to the gifts his Southern ancestors gave him: great athletic ability and the ability to run with a name that might cause others to hide in a closet. That's one way to handle what life hands you — just face it head on.


So, here's to you, Dickie Longerbeam. It sounds to me like you've got a good head on your shoulders (despite the broken neck) and a great outlook on life. All of us could perhaps use a little more Dickie Longerbeam-ness in our lives (and yes, I'm aware of the off-color inferences in that statement as well).


And Dickie, if we ever meet, the martinis are on me.


- Betsey