It started in high school. I went something like three of three or four of four. As in, the first handful of questions I sent in to Vic were answered. I didn’t send him one everyday, more just once, twice, maybe three times a year but I always put a fair amount of thought into each question, trying to identify a topic unique enough to be answered but that held mass appeal so he’d include it. I remember once a column was even titled after my question. I’ve annoyed many a friend with an email or phone call alerting them to “Quinton from Jacksonville’s” question.
I never made the Ask Vic Hall of Fame or Idiots. I don’t remember any of those questions and neither does anyone else but there was a real joy to contributing to the column. A tangible connection to a community and experience that you wanted every Jaguars fan to experience. I was always a little shocked when I met another fan, or one of my friends who was a Jaguars fan, and they didn’t read Vic regularly. I had looked at websites around the league. We were the lucky ones. There wasn’t a writer out there who had his combination of access, integrity, history, or quite simply, his ability to write. Every website had a guy but we had “The Man.”
It’s been a while since Vic included one of my questions in the column. My percentage is way down but something even cooler happened the last time I sent him a question. He replied via email, straight to me, and no one else. I had asked him why do player profiles overlap, as in why would the Times-Union do a story on Vince Manuwai the same day as jaguars.com? His reply was short and quick “Sometimes it happens. Everybody goes to the same press conference.” I reverted pretty quickly to high school and promptly forwarded the email to some friends.
I’ve always put Vic on a special level, probably a level that held me back and wasn’t a fair standard for him to live up to. Whenever I sent him a question I always read it carefully, meticulously checking grammar, and rehearsing in my head possible responses (especially when I disagreed with him). I didn’t want to be labeled for my youth or mistakenly told to quit playing video games. While I avoided this fate, I nonetheless, never totally overcame how intimidated I was of Vic. For no rational reason it was important to me that this man who I had never met respect my opinion. I probably should have emailed him more, given more of myself to the column and risked his making fun of me. I would have survived. Vic certainly gave of himself, absorbing a truly astonishing amount of vitriol that would flow in the days after a loss.
My meekness spilled into real life at one point too. I interned for the Jaguars one summer in college. I had absolutely no trouble talking to Jack Del Rio, Shack Harris or Wayne Weaver. I knew most of the players and had no trouble calling them out for skipping meals or not checking in. Vic, however, was a different story. I had a handful of opportunities to meet him and each time I chickened out. I don’t know what I thought would happen if I just went up and introduced myself to him but I didn’t want to seem like a fan so I played it cool. In the process I probably lost my best chance at a chance for a real Vic story. He was by all accounts a great colleague and treated everyone with the respect they deserved.
It’s time to take Vic off the pedestal now. He’s a pro, a pro’s pro at that but its professional football and it's about the money. And while he is my favorite sports writer, he has no duty to write about my favorite team. I should’ve recognized sooner that he’s always been a guy who seeks new challenges and embraces change (quite an accomplishment for such a curmudgeon). Nothing speaks louder to that than his decision to come leave his home state and come to Jacksonville in 1995. I always thought when Vic left the Jags it would be for his mountaintop. I wasn’t totally wrong. Green Bay is a mountaintop. It’s the summit of football tradition, passion and history. As Fred Taylor said today, “[It] was destined for him.”
Thanks for the memories, Vic.
-Q
I never made the Ask Vic Hall of Fame or Idiots. I don’t remember any of those questions and neither does anyone else but there was a real joy to contributing to the column. A tangible connection to a community and experience that you wanted every Jaguars fan to experience. I was always a little shocked when I met another fan, or one of my friends who was a Jaguars fan, and they didn’t read Vic regularly. I had looked at websites around the league. We were the lucky ones. There wasn’t a writer out there who had his combination of access, integrity, history, or quite simply, his ability to write. Every website had a guy but we had “The Man.”
It’s been a while since Vic included one of my questions in the column. My percentage is way down but something even cooler happened the last time I sent him a question. He replied via email, straight to me, and no one else. I had asked him why do player profiles overlap, as in why would the Times-Union do a story on Vince Manuwai the same day as jaguars.com? His reply was short and quick “Sometimes it happens. Everybody goes to the same press conference.” I reverted pretty quickly to high school and promptly forwarded the email to some friends.
I’ve always put Vic on a special level, probably a level that held me back and wasn’t a fair standard for him to live up to. Whenever I sent him a question I always read it carefully, meticulously checking grammar, and rehearsing in my head possible responses (especially when I disagreed with him). I didn’t want to be labeled for my youth or mistakenly told to quit playing video games. While I avoided this fate, I nonetheless, never totally overcame how intimidated I was of Vic. For no rational reason it was important to me that this man who I had never met respect my opinion. I probably should have emailed him more, given more of myself to the column and risked his making fun of me. I would have survived. Vic certainly gave of himself, absorbing a truly astonishing amount of vitriol that would flow in the days after a loss.
My meekness spilled into real life at one point too. I interned for the Jaguars one summer in college. I had absolutely no trouble talking to Jack Del Rio, Shack Harris or Wayne Weaver. I knew most of the players and had no trouble calling them out for skipping meals or not checking in. Vic, however, was a different story. I had a handful of opportunities to meet him and each time I chickened out. I don’t know what I thought would happen if I just went up and introduced myself to him but I didn’t want to seem like a fan so I played it cool. In the process I probably lost my best chance at a chance for a real Vic story. He was by all accounts a great colleague and treated everyone with the respect they deserved.
It’s time to take Vic off the pedestal now. He’s a pro, a pro’s pro at that but its professional football and it's about the money. And while he is my favorite sports writer, he has no duty to write about my favorite team. I should’ve recognized sooner that he’s always been a guy who seeks new challenges and embraces change (quite an accomplishment for such a curmudgeon). Nothing speaks louder to that than his decision to come leave his home state and come to Jacksonville in 1995. I always thought when Vic left the Jags it would be for his mountaintop. I wasn’t totally wrong. Green Bay is a mountaintop. It’s the summit of football tradition, passion and history. As Fred Taylor said today, “[It] was destined for him.”
Thanks for the memories, Vic.
-Q
Image is courtesy of Jaguars.com
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