Chad Smith

I got to do some cool shit this year. I visited two countries I’d long longed to, England and France; went to Texas; saw the Gators win their third football championship; saw them beat Louisiana State in Death Valley; went to a Premier League match; was interviewed on MSNBC; had a few stories featured on Bizarre Florida; had the pleasure of visiting Disneyland Paris; and so on.

But I don’t think I will remember 2009 fondly. After all, it was the year that left us with these enduring images: a seemingly occupied balloon floating over the Colorado desert; the mug shot of the governor of South Carolina, who was thought to be missing in the Appalachian Mountains but was really off bopping some South American broad unbeknownst to his staff (not to mention his family); Tiger Woods’ smashed-up SUV; a Texas military base in chaos; thousands mourning Michael Jackson’s hardly untimely death; protesters around my age dying on the streets of Tehran.

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After my first full year as a reporter at The Record, I’ve put together a list of my most interesting stories of the past 365 days.

For each month, I’ve selected my “best” article (based on only my obviously misguided judgment). On the police beat, there is an endless influx of weird — people, crimes, situations, mug shots — so I’ve also picked the most bizarre story for each month. Some months were better than others.

Enjoy.

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This photograph was taken of me outside the Wurstkuchl, a 500-year-old tavern overlooking the Danube in Regensburg, Germany, in November 2007. I think about the city and this river all the time, particularly when I need to think about somewhere else to remind myself everywhere isn’t so horrible.

I wonder about the waiter at the tavern who, after learning we were from Florida, said he had been to Tampa once. I wonder about the record store where I bought a Vision LP — mainly to support a German record store that wasn’t into techno or any of that weirdo metal bullshit — and wanted to buy an American Nightmare poster that wasn’t for sale. I wonder about the people we passed by over the footbridge and the people zipping around the cobbled streets in their Volkswagens and Citroëns. I wonder about the cafe once visited by Napoleon where I had the most rich piece of cake (the flavor now escapes; something vanilla) I’ve ever had. I wonder why more restaurants here don’t serve wiener schnitzel.

Bobby and Hank Hill digest their Longhorns’ heartbreaking loss to the Cornhuskers:

ATLANTA — During warmups, my dad and I settled into our upper-deck seats at the dome here, anxiously awaiting kickoff of one of the biggest games of the past few college football seasons. Our Gators had come out in all-white outfits, including an untraditional white helmet they had worn the previous week as part of a Nike promotion.

“The good guys,” a guy behind us commented. Maybe. But you know what they say about good guys and where they finish: maybe not last but certainly not first.

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For about 10 months, since a beautiful January night in Miami Gardens, my dad and I have talked many times about what will come to pass Saturday: Tebow’s last stand.

We’ve talked about the decibel level when No. 15 runs out of the south end zone to greet Urban and his parents at midfield. We’ve talked about the bittersweetness. We’ve talked about the chills that will run through some 90,000 people (save for the few thousand in garnet and gold, and even they will likely be awestruck) as the greatest college football player EVER takes the field for his last home game.

Yeah, I said it. Greatest ever. Not the greatest of this decade or at Florida or in the SEC. Greatest. Ever.

As one of the only die-hard Gators in the Record newsroom, the sports writers like to give me a hard time. The other night they were making their case again for their Anti-Tebow for Heisman campaign. They have their points: Timmy hasn’t had the statistical season as a senior that he had during his sophomore and junior years. And after Thursday’s performance, Colt McCoy deserves it.

But take his career numbers into account:

8,335 passing yards
2,743 rushing yards
81 passing touchdowns
54 rushing touchdowns
46 wins to six losses
3 SEC East titles
2 national championships
2 SEC championships
2 first-team Academic All-American selections
1 first-team All-American selection
1 Heisman Trophy

All that with three games to spare.

You can compare those numbers to anyone’s and they will hold up. But to really determine how great he has been you have to watch him convert a fourth down or complete one of those crazy jump passes or get a whole stadium roaring with a jerk of the arms. You have to read about his mission work and his speeches at prisons and look at his GPA.

He’s been the entire package for four years, and we’ll be sad to see him go.

“Heroes get remembered, but legends never die. Follow your heart, kid, and you’ll never go wrong.”

I don’t know why this gives me hope, but it does: ESPN’s preseason Bracketology predicts the Florida basketball team will earn a No. 9 seed in the tournament (the real one, not that invitational one) and play Wake Forest in Oklahoma City in the first round.

The fact that we’re merely predicted to make it has me more excited about Sunday’s opener against Stetson. But I’m not any less nervous about playing Kentucky and, well, any other team ranked in the Top 50 of the RPI.

I really really really just want a season that doesn’t end with me thinking, Since we’re in the NIT, we might as well win it.

To sum up the last three weeks: Oh my. A last-minute, game-winning field goal against Arkansas; a sloppy victory in Starkville; another rout of Georgia; and now Gougegate.

I don’t condone what Brandon Spikes did. But football is a violent, violent game, and when Georgia players were blatantly taking their own cheap shots, who knows what Spikes might have been responding to (that the cameras and the officials didn’t catch)?

And: Pat Forde is a douche.

Spikes’ action reminded The Dash of a moment from the 2006 Colonial Athletic Association basketball tournament. Namely, when George Mason guard Tony Skinn groin-punched Hofstra’s Loren Stokes.

Going after a guy’s eyes is more serious because of the potential damage. But the two acts are similarly classless.

Really? Punching a cat in the groin could cause significantly more damage, given Stokes hoped to continue to have testicles in working order. But I digress.

Speaking of working order, this blog will be back in such a state soon. Bring on the Commodores.

BATON ROUGE, La. — Heading into Tiger Stadium on Saturday evening, we had to walk through a gauntlet of liquored- and revved-up LSU fans who, naturally and understandably, took their share of potshots. Most of the taunting involved Florida’s quarterback and Second Coming of Wuerffel, Spurrier and Jesus Christ combined, Tim Tebow.

The most creative jab came in the form of a mannequin, creepily stripped bare save for a sign on its chest: “Tebow circumcised me.” Perfectly acceptable.

But the not-so-good-natured-yet-strangely-endearing roasting turned nasty minutes before the game. No, not when a group of Florida players jumped on the eye of the tiger at midfield. I was getting a hot dog and didn’t witness that. This had nothing to do with fans, players or coaches but with whatever staff member puts together the Tigers’ pre-game video montage (which, I must say, was about as lame as most universities’ TV spots that almost without fail will show a. the pastoral campus, b. the multicultural group lounging at the student union and c. a professor and student intently staring into a beaker).

First of all, I’m not sure why said staffer felt it necessary to include clips of the Gators. I’m assuming it’s a weekly thing, showing footage of the Tigers’ opponent. Personally, I found it sophomoric, even for the 128th-ranked university in the country. Lame strike No. 2. But when the clip reel included the vicious hit Tebow suffered at Kentucky I lost my shit. Here, in the week leading up the game, you had LSU coach Les Miles and his players saying all the right things about wanting Tebow to bounce back, to be OK, to be on the field. Then to show that “highlight”? That was about as classy as the LSU offense was prolific.

In the end, though, Tebow lined up in victory formation, took the snap and took a knee, and I could look up at the video board and smile: UF 13, LSU 3. See if they show that shit in two years.

ABOARD AIRTRAN FLIGHT 450 — I’m 30,000 (or something) feet in the air, somewhere between Atlanta and New Orleans, getting more nervous by the minute about the impending game Saturday night at Death Valley.

I just read an article in The New York Times (print edition, duh) about Tim Tebow’s concussion. Before that I read a column by ESPN’s Pat Forde on the (gray) matter (I stole Forde’s pun). Earlier, in the Atlanta airport, a CNN anchor mentioned Tebow, and it gave me pause. I doubt we’ll know whether he’ll play until 8 p.m., when the ball is kicked off at Tiger Stadium, but I had myself convinced that he would. As the game nears and the speculation intensifies, doubts are creeping in.

OK. The plane is beginning its descent into the Crescent City. The last time I arrived here for a football game was late December 1996. A few days later, Florida avenged its loss to hated in-state rival Florida State to win the Sugar Bowl — and its first national championship.

Good sign? In the airspace over a state rife with voodoo, I’ll take it as such.

They say it takes a lifetime for an empire to fall (to quote the Boston hardcore band The Suicide File). Really, as we found out Saturday, it only takes as long as it takes a defensive end to come off tackle unscathed and wollop your wunderkind, Christlike, saintly, promise-keeping, doesn’t-just-walk-but-runs-for-touchdowns-on-water quarteback.

I was in the newsroom last Saturday evening, feeling good that the Gators were manhandling Kentucky in the third quarter and were about to put more points on the board. Then, all of a sudden, on a third down, the world stopped. I was looking at my monitor when a sports writer says something like, Whoa, did you see that hit?

“What?” I asked and looked up. “Is that Tim?”

Then the clock started ticking on the longest five minutes in the 103-year history of University of Florida football. I’ve seen big hits, but Jesus, I’ve never seen anything like that. At least not to a Florida player. Let alone the greatest Florida player ever. Let alone (probably) the greatest college football player ever.

I was anxious about my (and the Gators’) trip to Death Valley on Oct. 10 before The Hit. Now I have no idea what to think. It will be interesting to see how Louisiana State stacks up against Georgia between the hedges. No matter, it will be a whole other ball game, a whole other world when the Gators, the No. 1 team in the universe, take to the field at Tiger Stadium. And if No. 15 isn’t suiting up, I don’t know if I’ll want to be in that world. I hope the players don’t feel the same way.

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