The story itself, if told correctly, can be funny. But the story is never complete unless you actually know Tuck. It just makes more sense and is simply funnier when you know Tuck's personality and are allowed to imagine Tuck, with his unique strut, moving across the field with the Georgia marching band.
I'm not here to try to hack that story up again- I've done that enough over the years. Instead I'm here to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you guys are never going to understand how funny that and countless other Tuck stories can be when you actually know the guy. Gene Tucker died on Saturday night.
Tuck was a good combination- calm and friendly with dry southern wit. He mixed those good things with a little bit of wild man (mostly after a few Wild Turkey's).
I met him during my first job out of Clemson and he always treated me with respect. (Something that few people were doing.) We'd travel all across the state of South Carolina in the name of politics and we'd talk about his family or football. Of course, every time we passed a seedy southern bar I'd ask him for a story about the place and he'd always deliver a short, no filler story but he'd also provide references in case I wanted to know more. (The story usually begun with, “You should ask So in So about what happened when...”)
Tuck was one of the people that made that part of my life fun and I'll always remember for that. For that, and for the stories that I will continue to tell and mess up on a regular basis.