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Arkansas wins; death of good friend hurtful Sunday, Nov 13, 2005 By Harry King OXFORD, Miss. - Staring at the computer screen, words about Arkansas 28, Mississippi 17, were difficult to come by for personal reasons. Know that Arkansas' talented freshmen running backs made the mistakes that put the Razorbacks in a hole and that the much-despised passes to Peyton Hillis turned the game around. The victim of a poster-worthy tackle by Kelvin Robinson, Darren McFadden surrendered the ball at the Arkansas 38 in the second quarter and the Rebels took the lead six plays later. Early in the second half, Felix Jones fumbled away superb field position and Matt Hinkle kicked a 28-yard field goal for a 10-point lead. Unable to run against the Rebels, Arkansas was in a bind to record its first Southeastern Conference victory since Nov. 20, 2004. Get this, the Razorbacks won by throwing the ball - Casey Dick completed 12 in a row and 17-of-24 during the afternoon. In eight previous games, only twice did Arkansas top 13 completions. On the drive for the TD that put Arkansas in front, Dick and Hillis hooked up for 23 yards on second-and-13; for 5 on third-and-5, and for the final 4 yards. Headed for the Razorbacks' fourth TD, that same combo was worth a big first down on another third down. Dick to Marcus Monk was good for 24 and the score whenTrumaine McBride flashed and failed to make an interception. Before that, newly promoted cornerback Matterral Richardson saved a touchdown with a knock-down of Larry Kendrick early in the fourth quarter. For the in-depth whys and wherefore, read elsewhere. The remainder of this is about the death of a loyal friend and never getting to tell him good-bye. He had been on more bowl trips than many of the coaches on Houston Nutt's staff. At the Cotton Bowl, Charlie Fiss twice cleared the way so he could room with us at the very nice media hotel. He flew to Las Vegas, not in the underbelly with the baggage, but in the cabin with the people. The small dose of valium failed to knock him out and he was the talk of the convention-bound passengers when he wiggled out of the bag under the seat. A Shih Tzu, his name was Spaghetti for a reason, and he would have been 13 in three weeks. When we had to put down the stray that preceded him, we swore there would never be another because the hurt was too much. But, a friend had a purebred litter of two and we couldn't resist the male. On a January night, he rode home hard against my wife's heart and he will be there forever. His name was a sappy but sweet tribute to his predecessor - also a Shih Tzu who loved the red sauce on the pasta and wore it throughout his beard. Spaghetti helped us through family deaths and other sad moments and rejoiced with us when our first grand-daughter came home after more than a month in the hospital. He seemed to sense that she was 10 weeks premature and when she napped on the living room couch, he was as much a fixture as her grandfather. She called him "Geppi," and others picked up on that moniker. At 3, she learned to spell B-A-T-H because the dog recognized the spoken word and despised the soapy water. No matter what happened at the office or on the golf course or anyplace else, he was always waiting at the door - eager to see you, and peeking around to see if he was going to have company. It was only Tuesday, on the weekly trek to Fayetteville, that I heard Tom T. Hall's "Old Dogs, Children and Watermelon Wine" and called Little Rock to share the tune with a classic country fan. His words, "Old dogs care about you even when you make mistakes," caused a knot in the stomach on Saturday. He walked every morning and every evening. Children in the neighborhood recognized him and reacted to him, particularly when he "waved" to them. He was a fighter, figuring out a way to get his head just so right so he could breathe and eat when what we thought were allergies turned out to be a tumor. He got through the surgery, though, and we had lined up a relative to sit with him during the trip to Vegas for the upcoming Jermain Taylor-Bernard Hopkins rematch because we would never board him. Anytime we drove, he was in the front seat. But, he was at the vets for the past two nights, getting needed fluids, and the fact that he died alone in a cage twists the knife. Such a blow to the stomach is a reminder that football is a game and that a final score is for rehashing and nitpicking. Mourning is for something more substantial. ----- Harry King is sports columnist for Stephens Media Group's Arkansas News Bureau. His e-mail address is hking@arkansasnews.com. |
