And So It Goes

November 3, 2001, I'm standing high atop Ben Hill Griffin Stadium watching my Florida Gators beat the pants off Vandy. It's late in the third quarter and most of the crowd, comfortable with the home team's untouchable lead, has wandered out to properly celebrate yet another Gator victory. I, however, cannot take my eyes off the field. More specifically, I can't take my eyes off Vandy's #24 and the most beautiful head of curly hair I had seen to date. Even from the top of the stadium I could follow every move that hair made. Slumping over the bench, humiliated, running onto the field, determined, returning to the sidelines, defeated. It was blond and beautiful and I had to have it. Late in the 4th, my friend Ashley and I made our way down to the first row, leaned over the edge and screamed his number. After a few cries, he heard, looked back and gave us the most disgusted look I've ever seen. Maybe he thought we were taunting, maybe he was embarassed by his less than stellar performance. Despite the excuse, though, he was rude and his hair was about the only feature he had going for him. The attitude was a joke, the face was a mess, but I walked out of the stadium that night knowing I would never forget that hair.

September 24, 2004, I'm laying in bed, watching re-runs of the Real World in Philadelphia. As the cast is being introduced, a familiar mess of blond and curls flashes onto the screen. It takes a moment for the facts to sink in, for ends to meet, for the thought to click. MTV's MJ, the hard body lady killer with a heart of gold, is the one and only #24. For a moment I'm back in that stadium, back on that ledge. Same old face, same old attitude, same unforgettable hair. Only now, that once free flowing and wild tangle of curly locks has been chopped off and matted down with product. It was like running into your high school crush years after graduation and finding out that he's fat and bald and sells timeshares over the phone. I was so disappointed, I could have cried.
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