Currently watching the NIT semi-finals match-up between TCU and UCF on ESPN (#Acronyms). A graphic was just flashed up on the screen talking about how Jamie Dixon, the head coach of TCU, is “The Most Interesting Coach in the World.” The rundown started off promising, noting that he grew up as a child actor and was a member of the “Killer Frogs” of TCU in the 1980s. The latter being so interesting, that it is extremely difficult to find any information on said “Killer Frogs” on the internet. Okay, at least not on Jamie Dixon’s Wikipedia page. So temper my usage of “extremely difficult.” Let’s say extremely difficult for a tired and unmotivated man at 11:00pm on a Tuesday night.
Moving down the list, the last bullet point is what forced my hand to write this blog post: “In 2010, pulled a passenger from an overturned car in Pittsburgh.” Believe it or not, Jamie Dixon and I share in common this “interesting” bullet point to a T, minus the year. I was unsure of the year, so I thought for a second that my identity was stolen. After a quick check to Facebook to see when I was last in Pittsburgh, I found that Jamie Dixon and I are, in fact, two different people, as I visited Pittsburgh back in 2009. Still very eerie…
I remember this was the first time that I had ever called 911. My friends and I visited Pittsburgh to see a Pirates game and O.A.R. played a small show after the game at PNC. We walked the pedestrian-friendly streets of Pittsburgh following the show with a bitter taste in our mouths from the sound issues O.A.R. had experienced throughout the show. I mean, I definitely believe that it was O.A.R. on that makeshift stage, but can’t be sure the lyrics to “I Feel Home” that I was hearing were from Marc or the sleepy drunk two rows behind me. On our agenda was to pass through some bars before heading back to the hotel.
Fast forward to the drunken steps taken out on to the street around 1:00am, only to hear a loud screeching sound to our left about three blocks down. Following the sound, we saw a pick-up truck crashing directly into a jeep that had run a red light at an intersection. To the astonishment of my friends (and myself), I ran towards the crash. This sounds like a time to be proud of my instincts, but somewhere, security footage will show a man running like Mr. Larson in the slowest of motions, struggling to keep a straight line. Though blurry, I can remember small details; one being the conversation with the 911 operator. After yelling out anything that I could see (“Buildings! Bars! Street Lights! More buildings!”) on what was now becoming a much longer sprint than the three blocks promised, explaining that I was not from the area and I couldn’t read the street signs, I became fixated on why I was being asked for my name. Since this was my first time calling 911, I was unfamiliar with the protocol. Finally, I reached the cars involved in the crash and shouted the now visible street names at the intersection. A little too excitedly, I might add, for the mood that existed amongst the small crowd gathering. The conversation with my new friend ‘911’ had come to a standstill, but I remained on the line. Are they tracking my location? Why is he breathing so heavily? No, that’s me. Why am I so sweaty?
The jeep was on its side in the middle of the road and a lady, who was becoming increasingly hysterical by the weep, was standing up on the passenger side with half of her body through the open window. She didn’t appear to be badly injured, although she was bleeding from her head/shoulder/neck area. A quick look down showed that the driver had not yet realized the enormity of the situation we found ourselves in, as he had a mixed look of confusion/delirium in his eyes. Painted across his face was a less than appropriate smile as he looked up at what I presumed to be his girlfriend. This smile convinced me that this guy had a lot more to drink that I did tonight.
For the passenger, patience was not a virtue at this time of her life. She was trying to climb out of the jeep. After ignoring our pleas to just stay in the jeep and not try to get up and over the vehicle, all of the onlookers were met with a dilemma. This lady now had one knee up on the jeep with at least a 4 or 5 foot drop to a future face plant directly to the blacktop in her near future if no one stepped up to help. I like to think time stood still at this very moment. Under the streetlights at 1:15 in the morning, some could say there was a decision to be made at the crossroads of that intersection. Everyone looked around at each other, understanding that whoever helped was going to be covered in this stranger’s blood. Whether it was misguided pride aided by the distant memory of that eighth Labatt Blue, human instinct, or pure jealousy that I was not the drunkest person in that jeep, I made the move forward with an outstretched hand. Once she touched both feet to the street, I saw that I did indeed have another human’s blood on my arm and shirt and immediately broke into a sprint back to the bar. Passing my jogging friends on the sidewalk, I hurled myself into the nearest bathroom to rinse off.
I’d like to say that I tossed this shirt into the trash, but instead I chose the next logical option an kept it for 7 years, only to nail it to the wall in my daughter’s room. No, I am just kidding. I nailed it to the wall in our guest room. There it stays, as a warning to all other grey T-shirts of what can happen if you mix blood and alcohol. I have been sober ever since this fateful night….No, I am still kidding. I haven’t been sober for 7 hours, let alone 7 years.
So for some weird conclusion, Jamie Dixon may be “The Most Interesting Coach in the World,” but I would argue it has nothing to do with helping someone out of an overturned car in Pittsburgh. I mean, get your own GD story. Unless saving someone from a car crash in Pittsburgh is some outlandish initiation into gaining the title of ‘interesting,’ I feel this “coincidence” has some deeper meaning to it. Am I destined to be the next head coach of TCU? Do I have to start slicking back my hair? Either way, Jamie Dixon and I are linked. I do like to think that I am interesting as well, but I fear that when someone calls me ‘interesting,’ it has a much more negative connotation to the word then what ESPN was trying to accomplish with this graphic.