Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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E-MAIL -TT QUOTE, UNQUOTE You hate us in the fall and ! "The $2.5 million will not snrino Arp wp inct hotter in m / make us world-class, but it is r?V TFW/pr^iTMTQ ?>**? GCK\1EWS@SC.EDU j JL-L?J W J/ JL-L 1 JL John Palms, USCpresident Page 3 The Gamecock Wednesday, July 14,1999 tkfl Sewing the Carolir, EDITOR Brad Walter Kevin Langstoi Emily Streye Kenley Younj Cameras s in all cam] Students coming r?back to school this tail mignt teei more (JSCPD secure when parking their cars, as cam- Cameras C eras have been in- BloSSOffl S stalled on every level of the Blossom Street parking Jfyam garage. But now that COWTd video surveillance expand tC has been set up throughout the garage, the burden falls again on the USC Police Department to make sure the cameras are put to good use. People who park their cars in the garage should be able to breath a sigh of relief and know that if something is done to their car or to them, chances are it will be seen by the police as il happens. The USCPD must stay or top of what goes on in the garage b) constantly monitoring the cameras, The university should turn its efforts toward getting other garages or campus wired with surveillance cameras. If criminals know their actions "^ST Serving the Carotin The Gamecock is the student newspaper of The Univ Friday during the fall and spring semesters and eight times du periods Opinions expressed in The Gamecock are those of ih The Board of Student Publications and Communications is ih the newspapers parent organization. The i Brad Walters Editor in Chie Clayton Kale News Edito Kevin Langston Viewpoints Edito Emily Streyer Features Edito Jeff Romig sports Editoi Stud Ellen S. Parsons Director of Student Medic Lee Phipps Advertising Managei Susan King Creative Directoi Kris Black Creative Service. Editor gcked@sc.edu 777-3914 iicws gcuneivstssc eati ///-//to Viewpoints gckvietvs@sc.edu 717-7726 Advertising 777-5888 Classified 777-1184 iamccoclt ia Community since 1908 IAL BOARD s, Editor in Chief n, Viewpoints Editor :r, Features Editor g, Copy Desk Chief houldgo pus garages ZZZZ^ZZZZZZTl might be on tape, it will stop most of the has placed vandalism and other ? , , r crimes from hapWl all levels of pening. treet Garage. As use's law enforcement and safety director Ernie Ellis Xtstart, but said "it's.process j that comes with a f needs to price tag." But if the ) all garages. university is raking _J in millions of dollars for research, surely a ! few thousand here and there can go ! toward the safety of those who do its research. The money spent on i adding cameras to every level of every i campus garage will make the police's 1_ 3 -L 1 ; jou easier, aiiu pernaps people won i ; be scared to walk out to their cars ; anymore. i And besides, the money spent ' on putting cameras in all garages probably wouldn't be any more than the value of all the goods stolen from i people's cars if the garages don't get cameras. ) ^nmirrnrb ESKH jumuuuv mmmmm a Community since 1908 ersity of South Carolina and is published Monday, Wednesday and iring the summer with the exception of university holidays and exam e editors or author and not those of The University of South Carolina le publisher of The Gamecock. The Department of Student Media is Gamecock f Charlie Wallace Sports Editor r Kenley Young Copy Desk Chief r Justine Wells Copy Editor r Ashtonjune Photo Editor ent Media t Sherry F. Holmes Classified Manager r Carolyn Griffin Business Manager r Erik Collins Faculty Advisor ! Etc. gcketc@sc.edu 777-3913 Spotts gcksports@sc.edu 777-7182 Online gckonli@sc.edu 777-2833 Fax 777-6482 Business Office 777-3888 WHWHAPPEMS , VMEM mewe. w tAA.HA6?t>TD E.THN CUEAMSe EACH OTrt OF OOSfEMCE ? t WE SET TO SO HOME.? Smells of Co] While taking a shortcut to campus through the Coker Life Sciences building one day, I was greeted ?with a jjtL familiar mk smell. The JHHHH Wk smell KEVIN LANGSTON hadvent columnist almost three years of my high school existence in that room. It was the smell of metal and sweat. There I was, in the Coker Life Sciences Building, and I was thinking about the weight room. Needless to say, my memories of that weight room were not pleasant. Oddly enough, I remember the first time I walked into that weight room. It was the summer before I was to become a high school freshman. After weeks of pressure, I was going into that weight room to begin lifting for my first season as a football player. Growing up a big kid, it was seemingly in the stars for me to play football. I had the size, but that's about all I had. I wasn't aggressive enough. I wasn't strong i_ t >i. _i. i t _ _ - enuugn. i wasii i itusL enuugn. i was uig enough. But that was about it. So there I was, a stranger to those parts, and I was thrusting myself into a game I had only interacted with as a spectator. Why was I doing this? I had no idea. It seemed to me that everyone had made this choice but me. I didn't ker bring bac want to do it, but for some reason I felt obligated to try it out. Fll never forget my mom waking me up at six in the morning on August 1, aU? c t T? J J iiit; III&L uoy ui durnuKi piouuuc. JLLI uicau of what I had to face when I awoke, it had taken me a long time to get to sleep the night before. This was the first day of a long season. I hadn't even strapped on my pads, and I knew I was going to hate football. But I went. I was the only rising freshman to show up for day one of football practice. I knew this was going to be a long and painful day. I had no idea. Our head coach gathered us all in the practice room before we were to begin. He gave us some speech about how the chain is only as strong as its weakest link or something. Looking back, no high scnooi coacn ever aazziea me witn a * speech. It seemed as though they had all taken a class on what to say to us. I just wasn't motivated by his words. It was going to take more than "this is an uphill battle, and we are hitting that hill with a running start" to inspire me. But I didn't quit. I always felt like I was playing for somebody other than myself. I was supposed to do it for my teammates, do it for my coach, do it for my high school. I was never supposed to do it for myself. All that I put myself through was never supposed to be for me. That first day of practice was my vision of what Hell would be like. From 8 to 11:30 in the morning, we were always moving. We had to run everywhere. There would be no walking on that practice field. We couldn't bend over in exhaustion. We were running, jumping, yelling, squatting, diving, rolling, aching k memories and hitting for three and a half straight hours. If we were going to throw up, we had to throw up standing straight up. That was the rule. I was dead tired when I got home. I just wanted to sleep the rest of the day, but I knew if I slept I would waste away the rest of they day. I wanted to cherish every moment I had away from that practice field. If this was my first-day mentality, why did I keep playing for three more years? In recollection, I can tell you why I stuck it out. I was there because of the people I was playing with. I did care about the friends I made while playing for my high school. For the most part, I didn't get along with all my teammates, but some saving graces were on that team, and I will never forget them I will always be proud to say I played alongside them. It was these people who I joked with and carried on with while the game was going on. We would cheer for each other when we finally saw playing time, and we would cheer for the team through every tough loss. We had a common bond, and we celebrated it with every practice and every game. None of us were truly cut out for football. We stuck around to say we did it together. We knew there was no football existence for us beyond high school. It might not have been pretty, and it might not have been fun, but we had each other. Out of the majority of players we had from season to season, a small group of us were there just for the ride. Yes, we dreaded practice, but I think everyone hated practice. Yes, the coach didn't do much for our inspiration, but we played under him anyway. We played for each other. We played for ourselves.