I rather enjoy the lists with names such as ‘You know you’re a Hokie if’ or ‘You might be a Hokie if’ you some such or another. Some of them are quite funny; including those on that board devoted to our friends the Canes. We seem to have become quite popular over there; I suppose five in a row will do that to you, and it does seem to finally be dawning on many of our Ibis-loving Miami friends that we are primarily the ones standing astride their path to true backness. You can’t win the MNC until you win the BE, guys.
It is nice to be noticed. My favorite list came from Carlos, who along with Rondo is a Cane friend of mine. I don’t take much of anything I read on most any message board, including ours, too seriously, but I did find it amusing. It also, as is often the case, prompted me to compile my own list. I hereby present forty telltale signs that "You might be a Hokie":
You skip breakfast rather than open one of the dozen boxes of Hokie Toasties in the cabinet.
For all you know, those boxes of Hokie Toasties could be filled with wood chips.
You bought season tickets to the Salem Avalanche just in case.
Your computer boots up to flashing numbers of months, days, hours, minutes and seconds until kickoff.
A wave file of “Touchdown Tech” announces incoming mail.
You miss Lee Corso.
You actually buy bowl tickets and go to the game.
You build an addition onto your house to hold all of the cigars and liquor won in annual bets with a Miami fan.
You’re on a first name basis with Bourbon Street bartenders.
After missing the season ticket cut, you bought a car from Shelor, Woodall, etc.
Although a poly sci major, you can easily calculate BCS rankings.
You see somebody going for his nose and automatically think of George.
You still have nightmares of that McNabb pass.
You miss the BOTD unless you don’t [I do].
Every time Will and Nan produce another son you revise your 2020 depth chart. Congratulations and welcome aboard, Ronan.
You no longer refer to Rutgers as the Scarlet Knights.
You began subscribing to SI again.
You send Christmas cards to Tommy Reamon.
You went to the Roanoke Steam’s first game because Al Clark was on the team.
You haven’t been back to a Steam game because Al didn’t play.
You greet other RVs arriving on Thursday with “A little late, aren’t you?”
You wore a black armband when that distillery in Kentucky burned down.
There are no glasses in your home, only Hokie stadium cups.
You talked General Swarzkopf into delaying the launch of Desert Storm until after the season.
You have an obnoxious co-worker who, every time he passes your office or cubicle, says in a loud voice, “Are you on that message board again?”
You switch to artificial sweetener so as not to use any substance derived from something called sugar cane.
You quit Seminary when your fist sermon is scheduled for August 27.
A vacation on the Chesapeake Bay causes you to think of Bill Roth.
You change doctors when he welcomes to the practice a partner named ‘Ryan.’
You watched every minute of last year’s Syracuse game, then argued forcefully that 62-0 wasn’t RUTS.
You no longer spend the holidays in the Caribbean because it conflicts with the bowl game.
You have actually seen Temple play in Veterans Stadium.
You skip your daughter’s wedding because it is the same day as the Spring Game.
You voluntarily left the ‘Survivor’ island when the Big East switched networks.
You break into hysterical laughter every time you see a pergola.
You bought the house a round after The Kick.
After surviving a plane crash, your first call is to find out the score of the Tech game.
You quit your job when the company installed Websense.
You don’t understand all the talk about 460 traffic jams because traffic is always light when you come through at dawn.
And finally, you are so desperate for football season that you react enthusiastically when I make one up. Thanks for the positive comments about Football 2000: The Magnificent Sevens.
