Football shout-out

My second cousin, Kyle Rowe, made his debut as the starting quarterback for the winningest high school football team in the nation Friday night as Valdosta High School thumped Jenkins 48-7 in their season opener. Kyle completed 14-of-20 passes for 161 yards and four touchdowns. You can read details by clicking here.

The final out

Atlanta Braves announcer Skip Caray died in his sleep Sunday at the age of 68. Sometimes funny, often brash and always sarcastic, he provided a lot of the sounds in the background of my childhood memories. He also got me through a lot of nights on the sports desk when I worked at the Valdosta Daily Times. Until then, I'd suffered along with him through a lot of bad Braves games on TBS. But when the Braves got good in 1991, I was stuck at work and had to follow most of their games on the local AM radio station.

I especially loved the way he seemed to think every person who ever called in to the Braves' pregame radio shows were complete idiots. And he made sure a lot of them left feeling that way. You can watch a video about Skip's career here.

And here's a good column about Skip from Ledger-Enquirer sports editor Kevin Price.

TitleTown, USA

If you watch ESPN's SportsCenter at 6 p.m. tonight, you'll see Valdosta being handed the title of TitleTown, USA. Having lived there for a couple years in the early ’90s, I can vouch for the championship atmosphere of the town. With Wild Adventures and family still there, including a second cousin who is a senior quarterback for the Valdosta High Wildcats, the winningest high school football team in the nation, I still get there fairly often.

Though I worked for an incredibly stingy newspaper company at the time, I enjoyed living there, and if I could have survived economically, I would have stayed. They sold all their U.S. papers after I left, but the top-tier newspaper companies surprisingly let the Valdosta Daily Times slip through their fingers. It's a great town and, yet, every time I go back I'm stunned by how nice everyone is there from the strangers on the street to all the waitresses with the sugary-sweet Southern drawls.

And if you've never been to a Valdosta High School or Lowndes High football game, you ain't seen nothing yet.

Congrats to all those folks in my old stomping grounds.

Universally screwed

For my second disappointing family vacation of the year (Gatlinburg was the first), we went to Universal Studios in Orlando, a city to which I once considered moving for a job but am now thankful I didn't. I really, really don't like the place. I'd rather listen to Celine Dion sing for three days straight while standing in a bucket of water moccasins.

Probably didn't help that after booking a vacation to Universal Studios online and upgrading to a fast pass to get through all the long lines, I found out when the electronic ticket kiosk printed my tickets in Orlando that the $83 I spent in advance for fast-pass tickets was good for only one day, the first day of our visit. At no point was I informed of this in advance, nor did I get to pick the day I for which I'd prefer to use the fast passes. So we started our vacation by getting our fast passes about 3:30 p.m. on the only day they'd be valid, giving us about 3 hours to use them once I got through griping to guest services, whose general attitude that day and the next on the phone was, "Sucks for you, don't it?"

Because you can't enjoy this place without the fast passes or express tix or whatever they call them, I had to buy more for the second day ... a little over $60. Like a lot of theme parks, it's in Universal's best interest to have long lines to create the sub-industry of selling express passes. The only thing worse than getting robbed by a place like Universal is voluntarily giving them more money afterward. Moral of the story is: Buy your express tickets down there, not online. It's no "upgrade."

It certainly puts the much more pleasant experience of Wild Adventures in Valdosta in perspective. Wild Adventures is cheaper, has more rides, is more customer friendly and is in a town full of nice folks.

Topping off Universal's misunderstanding of customer service: After leaving Islands of Adventure, we were asked if we'd take part in a survey that would last about 10 minutes. I really, really wanted to do this, but my wife, who'd had enough of my grumpiness after a couple of days of being robbed, decided she had better do it. Ten minutes later, she emerged with nothing but a "thanks" for taking the survey. Ten minutes wasted and she didn't even get a free drink, a coupon or a shiny nickel out of the deal. They didn't get our contact information, either, but I guarantee they'll have it before too long.

My son, Saylor, loved Universal and Gatlinburg, by the way. I guess these places are easier to tolerate when you're not shelling out hundreds of dollars to be miserable. It didn't cost Saylor a cent for me to be utterly miserable.

Good news is I get to pick the next trip (mainly to shut me up), which likely will involve a secluded beach with more crab traps than tourist traps.

Waaay-back Wednesday: Bathtime burglar

As much as I've come to enjoy living in Columbus, I can't get used to the fact that you have to lock your doors around here.

Growing up in tiny Oglethorpe, Ga., we never bothered to lock our doors. We felt safe. Even when we did bother to lock the front door, we were courteous enough to leave a note for friends and relatives such as, "The key is under the flower pot." Good thing many criminals are illiterate.

But once you venture away from the friendly confines of the Oglethorpe city limits — an area some call "The Modern World" — danger lurks. Thieves lurk. Stuff's just lurkin' all over the place. You better lurk out.

The only time I ever heard of anyone almost getting robbed back home was when my Uncle Johnny spotted a man climbing into his bedroom window. He quickly devised a scheme to scare him away.

"Sue! Hand me my shotgun!"

My aunt responded, "Johnny, you know we ain't got no gun!"

My first brush with thievery came when I was in college at Georgia Southwestern in Americus. I had a new car, and — just as I had always done with my piece-of-junk 1978 Celica — I kept the keys under the seat.

On the first day I drove it to school, I returned from classes only to find an empty parking space where I was sure I had parked my car. After a desperate hour of searching, I found the car at the other end of campus with a note from my sneaky ex-girlfriend attached to the steering wheel: "Love your new car. Drives great."

My closest brush with theft came in 1992 in Valdosta, Ga., where we were wise enough to keep the doors to our apartment locked.

I had a rare day off and was taking a hot bath with Mr. Bubble (that's a soap, not a man) when I heard the venetian blinds of the living room rustling. I got out of the tub and, sure enough, there was a burglar unhooking my VCR and television — which made up pretty much all of our wordly possessions — from the wall.

"Hey!" I yelled. And at that very moment, he and I both came to a realization: I was nekkid. He gave me a deer-caught-in-the-headlights look that the word "fear" just can't explain.

He dashed out onto the patio, and I followed. Although, like a dog chasing a car, I didn't know what I was going to do with him if I caught him. Fortunately for both of us, he got away. Unfortunately, the fear turned to laughter for several housewives taking their afternoon walks around the lake.

I guess the thought of tangling with a wet, naked man will make just about any guy run like a gazelle chased by a lion. I've got a bum left knee, yet I can guarantee you that no wet, naked man will ever lay a hand on me.

I'll make an exception, though, for Mr. Bubble.

Week in review 19

• Dumb Crook Alert: A Wilcox County, Ga., woman was arrested after she called local police to help ‘‘get her money back’’ after she was unhappy with the crack cocaine she purchased. Man, what's this world coming to when you can't even trust a good ol' South Georgia crack dealer?!
• President Bush's "brain", Karl Rove, resigns. Rove says he needed a bigger job than Bush's brain.
• Hall-of-Fame shortstop and New York Yankees announcer Phil Rizzuto dies at 89. "Heaven must have needed a shortstop," says Yankees owner George Steinbrenner. Don't worry, George, I'm sure if heaven needs a greedy pompous ass, they'll call you.
• The Dow Jones Industrial Average plummets 14,762,971 points, meaning everyone with a 401K will have to pay $45 a month for the joy of being retired.
• A West Virginia man is suing McDonald's for $10 million after biting into a Quarter Pounder, only to find it had cheese, which he had requested not be on it because he is severely allergic to it. Of course, he didn't notice it had cheese because he waiting until he got home to eat it in a darkened room. At no time did he smell the cheese, nor check to make sure it had no cheese. Because, you know, it's not like a fast-food restaurant ever messed up an order or anything.
• In a related story, Chris Johnson files suit against newspapers in Americus, Valdosta and Columbus, noting that he is severely allergic to work.
• In a related related story, newspapers in Americus, Valdosta and Columbus file a countersuit against Chris Johnson, claiming "What work??"
• As usual, Princeton tops U.S. News & World Report's annual college rankings. Jim Bob Jenkins' Transmission School comes in at a surprising No. 5, just ahead a Essie Mae Banks' Hair-Cuttin' School.

Used what?

While riding with my son back from Valdosta's Wild Adventures on Sunday, I saw an unusual sign on the side of the road along Georgia Highway 133: "Used Cows For Sale." I've seen plenty of used cars for sale and I recently bought a refurbished laptop computer. But a used cow? Aren't all cows "used" in some way? How was it used? Was it used to make a hamburger or football? Or was it used to make ice cream?

This was just one interesting sight on the stretch of 133 from Albany to Valdosta that I'll write about for Sunday's column. I'd still take I-75 to Valdosta if they'd ever finish repairing it. They've been rebuilding it between Adel and Valdosta almost as long as they've been rebuilding the Atlanta Hawks. But, until they get I-75 fixed, at least Highway 133 is a more scenic, if slightly eccentric route to Valdosta.

It ain't no Southern thing

Make no mistake about it: I am from the sticks. I grew up in a mostly rural, very poor county of Georgia. We all got free lunches at my school. My hometown had -- and still has -- just one traffic light. I am a Southern boy, and I'll always be a Southern boy. And in my 37 years, all of which I've lived in Georgia (Oglethorpe, Valdosta, Americus and Columbus), I've never known a single person involved in dogfighting. I've never heard of anyone even seeing a dogfight, unless it was the dogs' idea.

So I'm getting a little sick of ESPN Radio's Colin Cowherd and others insinuating or outright stating that dogfighting is a "Southern thing." I don't buy that. It's a sick thing. It's an idiot thing. And, allegedly, it's a Michael Vick thing.

It reminds me of the pre-Columbine days when every time there was a shooting at a school or business Down South, people on TV and radio were decrying "the Southern gun culture." Why didn't we hear the term "Northern gun culture" with all the shootings in Colorado, Washington, Pennsylvania, etc.?

I've met some pretty bad dudes here in the South. I've met some violent dudes, folks who wanted to beat up others for recreation. I've met folks who love to shoot guns and blow holes in animals, just for the sake of killing, not for sport. But even the baddest of the bad Southern dudes I've known loved their dogs ... sometimes more than the rest of their family. I've known people who've taken out paid obituaries in the newspaper for their dogs. And that's back home, where we don't think dogs belong in the house or should wear clothes ... and where, coincidentally I'm sure, the dogs act normal.

If anything, the real "Southern thing" may be the way folks Down South love their dogs.

I was a pretty big Mike Vick fan for his first few years in Atlanta and had high hopes for him. But after seeing his actions, his decision making and listening to him speak in interviews, I've got to conclude he's just stupid. And as comedian Ron White points out, "You can't fix stupid." You can't fix it Down South or Up North.