My congratulations to Western’s football team. Thanks to your hard fought victory, I have another excuse to buy a t-shirt.

That’s no small feat.

I’m not in any fraternity or sorority, both of which always have the most readily available shirt selection. Some sororities at South Carolina private colleges have entire committees devoted to t-shirt design and purchasing.

The Herald, on the other hand, has no such committee. The last time we had the opportunity to buy shirts was at an alumni breakfast my freshman year. If I hadn’t bought that shirt, I’d have no proof that I work at the newspaper, other than a chip clip, beer cozy and a magnetic flashlight.

That’s why I took two shirts.

Last spring, I snagged a tee during the WKU Healthy Days. A group of official-sounding people at the Preston Center reached around my waist and thigh and measured various parts of my body, like my waist and thigh. To add to the fun and excitement, they watched me struggle to perform push ups to prove exactly how out of shape I was. The reward for my humiliation: one t-shirt.

At the start of my freshman year, I had to stoop to trickery to score one of the MASTER Plan shirts. To legitimately procure one, I had to attend all of the sessions and turn in a ticket at the end of each session as proof. Well, I had people to see and things to do during some of the sessions. So I slipped in multiple cards during some sessions to insure my prize. I still almost regret to this day missing the Silent Fall Session. The reward for my chicanery: one t-shirt. It wasn’t really worth it; it shrunk in the wash.

So I have to mope from class to class jealous of anyone with Rush or formal dance shirts covered in cryptic letters.

In fact, the closest I ever came to procuring one of these shirts, other than grand larceny or homicide, was a phone call I received last semester from the Alpha Delta Pi sorority. Or so they called themselves.

Apparently, I had been invited to the ADPi Crush Dance, or so said the Mystery Caller who phoned me at midnight. She also said that I might not have made it into the advertisement placed in the Herald for the dance, the same ad that informed all crushes they were invited to attend. I was too stupid to get her name.

An actual ADPi acquaintance of mine confirmed the suspiciousness of the call. Apparently, if I wasn’t in the ad, I wasn’t really invited.

My shot at Greek t-shirt heaven was shattered thanks to you, Mystery Caller. But then again, I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up on any phone call received after 10 p.m.

Until Tuesday, when I went to the bookstore to buy my very own championship t-shirt, I could only shake my fist at the sky and wonder why I am too lazy to rush. Soon after, I would wonder why I’m stupid enough to take my hand out of my jacket pocket in subzero windchill weather to shake my fist.

So thank you, WKU Football Giants. I am enjoying my national championship t-shirt. By my meager math skills, “2002 Division I-AA NCAA Champs” doubles the capital letter count of any Greek shirts I’ve seen.

Picks O’ the Week

*Western’s celebration to honor the 2002 NCAA I-AA National Championship football team will start at 11 a.m. Saturday in Diddle Arena. I predict that the ensuing riot will blanket south central Kentucky.

*Nite Class and the Campus Activities Board will host three more indy bands Saturday night starting at 8:30 p.m. What do the classic New York hardcore sounds of 25 TA Life, the Detroit moshcore sounds of Samsara and the straight-edge sounds of 3 Nails for a False Prophet mean? Free music.

So you think you have a better idea of what’s going on over the weekend than Hollan Holm? Please e-mail him at [email protected] because he’s bored.