"Troy on TV? Well, almost... (Part 1)" by Troy H. Cheek on Feb 26, 2005

"Hello, I'm Troy H. Cheek. You may remember me from my best-selling book series SFSTORY, my award-winning weekly newspaper column View from the Corner, or my appearance in the TV Movie O' The Week Sibling for Sibling..."

All of these are things that I might have said 20 years ago. All of these things, except maybe my name, are as much a case of wishful thinking now as they were then.

Though I've written the equivalent of several books set in the SFSTORY universe, this was more a piece of shared interactive fiction than any true literary effort. I supposed I could polish them up and try to make some money off them, but even if I could do that legally (which is iffy, me not being sole creator and all), it's something that I couldn't do morally. It just wouldn't be right to profit from the works of others. I'll go into more detail about SFSTORY in a future article.

My View from the Corner column has been discussed in previous articles, so it's not necessary to go into it here, except maybe to mention that you're reading an example of it now.

Which just leaves the minor point of my almost becoming a celebrated star of stage, screen, and radio totally by accident.

In the late 1980's, I was attending an institute of higher learning which I will simply refer to as "Tech" to avoid the libel and slander suits which would otherwise follow. Tech was a small institute of higher learning, but big to me at the time. Tech was famous, or perhaps infamous, for several things which they didn't bother telling prospective students or their parents.

First of all, like any college in the good ol' USofA, Tech had frat houses nearby where any underage drinker could get his first taste of free beer. Or of anything else that has a taste, for that matter. This was in spite of the official stance of alcohol being prohibited on campus and and any off-campus student housing within five miles of the school.

Secondly, the highly trained and world-renowned instructors, in 90% of those cases that I bothered to actually check, were Tech graduates whose only teaching experience at the college level was at Tech. In academic circles, this is known as inbreeding.

Thirdly, the official stance on sexual activity was that boys and girls had separate dorms, members of the opposite sex could only visit for a few hours each evening, and during these visits the door had to be kept ajar with the lights on and the head resident would make frequent checks. If the head resident ever made a single check, I missed it because the door was locked and the lights were off and I wasn't paying any attention to the door anyway. And if you had to go to the community bathroom at 3AM, look out for the guy outside the door directing you to the next one down the hall because his girlfriend was taking a shower.

We won't even get into the semi-organized prostitution rings run by the security guards over at the girls' dorms.

Another thing never mentioned was that policy was laid out in writing but interpreted by the staff on a case by case basis. Whichever staff member was involved in a particular case might rule one way while another involved in a similar case might rule another, both claiming they were enforcing the written policy. Furthermore, all students had to sign a paper which said that oral or written statements by the staff could not alter established Tech policy. This means that even a written judgement by the staff in any particular matter could be ignored by any other staff member, or even the same staff member if it suited him/her.

I have personal knowledge of at least two cases where this happened. I was eventually told by a fellow student that if I heard the word "policy" I could save time by bending over and grabbing my ankles.

Finally (as far as this list goes, anyway), was the sports program. Officially, sports were a very minor piece of the overall school picture and which were meant to complement, and certainly not distract from, the academics.

In reality, the sports programs got most of the money.

Why that was so, I couldn't tell you. I'm no expert on basketball, having never played in any organized basketball game, but I don't have to be a concert tenor to recognize when someone else sings a flat note. The basketball team did hit a winning streak there for a while, so I let my girlfriend of the time talk me into attending a game. She advised me to bring toilet paper.

"Toilet paper?"

"Yeah, with that big coat you wear, you should be able to fit 4 or 5 rolls in the pockets. We can pass them out to all my friends."

"For what purpose?"

"To make me very grateful later on tonight."

"Toilet paper it is!"

A few minutes into the game, I found out what the toilet paper was for. Any time the opposing team got on a roll, our cheerleaders would give a yell out for a "Tech Shower!" All the Tech fans would spend the next few minutes raining strips of toilet paper, newspaper, pages from books, chunks of seat stuffing, and anything else light and fluffy down onto the court. Game play would be delayed for the 10 or so minutes it would take to sweep it all up. By then, whatever momentum the opposing team had built up would have wound back down. Our team, on the other hand, was so used to it that it didn't faze them.

Given the shape some of them were in, they could use the rest.

Of course, the officials would make noise, there were penaly shots and the like, and security would round up a few people and escort them out the door in full view of everyone. From my vantage point in the cheap seats, I also had a good view of them sneaking back in a few minutes later.

I attended part of one football game with another young lady. Football is something I am qualified to talk about, having played for several years on one team or another. My nickname back then was Mack Truck because I could punch a hole in the offensive line big enough to drive a semi through. I might still be playing today if not for away games, which would subject me to new and different dusts and pollens and other allegens which would set off my asthma. Me and my silly habit of breathing.

From what little I saw of the game, I could have beaten them with our old highschool football team. Not as young adults as we were at that time, but as the kids we were back then.

"What's that big metal thing in the endzone there?"

"Oh, that's the cannon. They fire it off whenever Tech wins."

"Really? How loud is it?"

"I wouldn't know. I've never heard it. I've only been here three years."

"I see. Want to go back to my dorm and make out?"

"Okay."

I never saw the baseball team, and in fact never heard of any games, though I was assured by many people that it existed and was of the same high quality as the rest of the sports program.

I learned years later that the shooting team did produce a couple of Olympic-level marksmen. I only learned that because I happened to be dating one. Incidentally, if you're dating someone who is very likely to become or simply reveal herself as insane (as pretty much every woman I've ever dated has turned out to be), you do not want to choose a member of the shooting team. Particularly one who keeps getting complimented by people employed by the US Marine Corps as snipers.

(This image stolen from somethingpositive.net so please go there and check out this great online comic series. And tell them that I sent you. And please don't tell them that I'm using a clip from one of their images!)

Although the sports program got most of the money, according to the official budget it got almost none. All the money came from something called the "general fund" which consisted primarily of donations from alumni and corporations. A secondary source was profits from any venture funded from the general fund. If any of our sports teams had ever garnered big enough game attendance to generate a profit, the money would have gone back into the general fund. Assuming, of course, that any ever existed. And assuming, of course, that any profits didn't disappear into the pockets of coaches and administrators.

Most of the money coming from the general fund had to go to sports, we were told, because all the alumni with deep pockets were sports fans, and they were certain to donate more to the university if they saw their money going towards the sports program as opposed to better housing for the students or new lab equipment for the chemistry department or fixing up an old theater that was scheduled to become a storage area anyway.

Which is where I came in. A friend turned me on to a noble cause, which was the renovation and restoration of a "pocket" theater where student plays were rehearsed and where the smaller ones were actually performed. It had fallen into disrepair over the years and was roughly six months away from being closed down and turned into a storage area for the football team. They needed to raise funds to repair it so as not to let that happen.

I learned later that during the previous year, two plays and a full-campus fundraising drive had been attempted. Unfortunately, the funding for the plays and drive came from the general fund, so all proceeds were put back into the general fund. Which the supporters had no problem with, until the actual time to spend that money came around, which was when they were informed that there wasn't enough money in the general fund to cover the renovations, most of it having been spent on unexpected and unanticipated expenses in the sports program. Or the Dean of Students needed a new swimming pool in his back yard. Something like that.

What would happen this year (well, that year) was a whole other ballgame. Tune in next time to hear the rest of the story.

Copyright 2005 by Troy H. Cheek. Reprint with prior written permission only. Comments and questions to