Something rather unique and strange happened at the final Myrtle Beach team practice before the Christmas holidays. As practice was wrapping up, several of the defensive backs were having a good time with the backup QB and were running some routes to work on their hands. The guys were generally having a good time and discussing their plans for Christmas when rookie safety Warren Stephens abruptly excused himself and jogged back into the locker room. He returned a few moments later holding a tell-tale brown bag and giving one of those smirks where, as a photographer, you just know you'll want to keep a camera pointed at him for whatever is coming next.
I watched from the sideline as Stephens pulled out a hefty glass bottle of Bumbu rum and approached the hurler. In a quick motion, he took the football away and replaced it with the bottle of (rather delicious) spiced rum, simply said "Hit me, man!" and took off running. Stunned, the QB did nothing. Stephens was not amused. Jogging back he repeated, more emphatically "Hit me, man!" and returned to the "line of scrimmage" before taking off into a route again.
Everyone's eyes collectively widened as we saw the QB's arm cock back, awkwardly balancing the hefty glass bottle of delictable brown liquid and, somehow, chuck it down the field towards the sprinting safety. Miraculously, the throw somehow resembled a spiral and soared down the field towards Stephen's outstretched arms. Turning slightly, he caught it and promptly pulled back his arm as though he were about to spike the precious bottle.
"Psych!" He shouted, cradling the bottle to his chest, prying out the cork, and taking a rather large swig straight from the bottle. During his rather long swig, he glanced over and saw me, jaw unhinged and camera still pointing at him, on the sidelines. Quickly, he passed the bottle off to his teammates who had gathered around him to celebrate The Catch and jogged over to me.
"You got that on camera?!" he cried, the delight evident in his face.
"Uh...I think so," I stammered, still trying to understand what I had just witnessed.
"I wanna see it."
"Yeah, okay." I pulled the camera off the stand at began flipping through the pictures I had just taken and discovered this masterpiece (I added the text when uploading it). <---- that's a link
The rookie safety did a little dance of delight before eagerly calling all of his teammates over to see and relve The Catch. Soon, I was standing in the center of a clamoring crowd of Buccaneers, all eager to get a glimpse of the event. The stench was overwhelming, but I suppose the laughter was the embodiment of holliday cheer.
Stephens has already become known around here for his love of rum. It dated back to an incident in college that I had heard mentioned many times, but never gotten the full story on. This, though, was something entirely new. In my years of sports photography, I don't recall ever seeing a player throw or catch alcohol outside of frat boys throwing beers back and forth in the parking lots during tailgates. I never expected to see a professional quarterback chucking glass bottles of rum downfield to overly eager safeties, and I definitely never expected that I would have pictures of it on my camera. The youngster is expected to be selected in the upcoming draft, but is planning on spending another season with Myrtle Beach to continue his development. This should provide no shortage of entertaining moments with him. We may be seeing a unique type of history in the making with Stephens, and I must admit that I'm excited to be here to document the process.
As practice ended and the crowds began to disperse, I caught hold of Warren's arms and finally got up the courage to ask him what "The Incident" I'd heard so much about was.
"Now that's a long story for another time," he told me, laughing.
"How about Thursday?" I asked, eager to get the full story to something I'd been hearing about since his arrival with the team.
"If I'm not too hung over, sure!" He seemed almost eager to relive this legendary moment. I hoped he wouldn't be too hungover.
We agreed to meet at a local coffee shop the day after Christmas for this interview. I arrived a couple minutes early, praying under my breath that he would show up as his usual chipper self and wouldn't be "too hungover." Although I struggle to understand what "too hungover" might mean to him since it seems the man always has a bottle of rum at hand. I'm also not really sure how he still has a liver.
He walked in, exactly on time, a big smile on his face and a gift bag in hand. He sat down at the table, plopped the bag in front of me, and proudly exclaimed "I got you something! Open it!" I, of course, obliged him, and was very amused to pull out a bottle of Bumbu rum that Stephens had gotten signed by the Myrtle Beach secondary. The barista was quick to inform us that alcohol was not permitted here, so the interview had to wait a few moments while I tucked the treasure into the trunk of my car, wrapped carefully to keep it from rolling around and shattering.
Finally, we were ready to go.
"So what is this incident from Baylor I keep hearing about?" I asked, eager to finally hear this story.
He sat back and drummed his fingers on the table, that slight smile on his face that always seem to appear when people are remembering some fond memory. "Well," he finally started, "my debut game was against SMU after my redshirt year. I finally felt like I knew the system and was ready to go. And I think I proved that when I picked a ball off in the first quarter. So, you know, when you get your first pick or things like that, you get to keep the game ball. So coach held onto the ball until after the game. And they gave it to me with the date and all that written on there, which was pretty neat.
"Well," he continued, "after the game, one of my conerback buddies invited me out to this party to celebrate. And up to this point, I'd never been that much of a partier. I mean sure, I'd go out once in a while with some friends, but never anything this big. I mean this was a par-tay. And, believe it or not, I'd never had rum before this party. But they had this drink there. It was something pretty dumb, I think. If I remember right, it was Malibu rum, blue Gatorade, and Cherry Seven-Up and I f****** loved that s**t. Especially since, you know, alcohol dehydrates you but gatorade gives you back electrolytes. So if you drink alcohol and gatorade together, you get drunk slower!"
I'm not sure if that's a fact or not, but he seemed pretty certain it was.
"Anyways," he went on, "I had like 10 of those and finally just found the guy who was making it and asked for the bottle of rum. Yes, the bottle. He seemed a bit weirded out but I think I scared him a bit. So he gave me the bottle of rum and I guess they'd just opened a new one to make some more drinks because it had a lot in it. And before I knew it, I'd had a couple bottles and was carrying around that football. And then the next thing I know, my friends are yelling at me while we're walking home.
"Now I don't think I did this, because it's not something I would do, but they tell me they threw me and my buddies out because I threw the game ball at the damn kid after they wouldn't give me another bottle of rum. But they kept my game ball!"
He went on a long rant about the hosts of the party here and I didn't think it was really worth including, though the tirade was rather impressive.
"But yeah," he finished with a sigh, finally winding down from his explicit tirade, "that's the first time I had rum. And lost a game ball after my debut. I still get texts from those teammates laughing at me about that."
"Isn't Baylor I dry campus, though?" I have no clue why that was my first thought or follow up question after all that, but here we are. He just rolled his eyes in response.
We continued chatting while we finished our coffee before I wished him happy holidays, thanked him for the gift, and returned to my office to write this. The bottle of rum is now proudly displayed on one of my shelfs, though I doubt I'll ever be able to bring myself to open it. There's never a dull moment around the Myrtle Beach Buccaneers.
I watched from the sideline as Stephens pulled out a hefty glass bottle of Bumbu rum and approached the hurler. In a quick motion, he took the football away and replaced it with the bottle of (rather delicious) spiced rum, simply said "Hit me, man!" and took off running. Stunned, the QB did nothing. Stephens was not amused. Jogging back he repeated, more emphatically "Hit me, man!" and returned to the "line of scrimmage" before taking off into a route again.
Everyone's eyes collectively widened as we saw the QB's arm cock back, awkwardly balancing the hefty glass bottle of delictable brown liquid and, somehow, chuck it down the field towards the sprinting safety. Miraculously, the throw somehow resembled a spiral and soared down the field towards Stephen's outstretched arms. Turning slightly, he caught it and promptly pulled back his arm as though he were about to spike the precious bottle.
"Psych!" He shouted, cradling the bottle to his chest, prying out the cork, and taking a rather large swig straight from the bottle. During his rather long swig, he glanced over and saw me, jaw unhinged and camera still pointing at him, on the sidelines. Quickly, he passed the bottle off to his teammates who had gathered around him to celebrate The Catch and jogged over to me.
"You got that on camera?!" he cried, the delight evident in his face.
"Uh...I think so," I stammered, still trying to understand what I had just witnessed.
"I wanna see it."
"Yeah, okay." I pulled the camera off the stand at began flipping through the pictures I had just taken and discovered this masterpiece (I added the text when uploading it). <---- that's a link
The rookie safety did a little dance of delight before eagerly calling all of his teammates over to see and relve The Catch. Soon, I was standing in the center of a clamoring crowd of Buccaneers, all eager to get a glimpse of the event. The stench was overwhelming, but I suppose the laughter was the embodiment of holliday cheer.
Stephens has already become known around here for his love of rum. It dated back to an incident in college that I had heard mentioned many times, but never gotten the full story on. This, though, was something entirely new. In my years of sports photography, I don't recall ever seeing a player throw or catch alcohol outside of frat boys throwing beers back and forth in the parking lots during tailgates. I never expected to see a professional quarterback chucking glass bottles of rum downfield to overly eager safeties, and I definitely never expected that I would have pictures of it on my camera. The youngster is expected to be selected in the upcoming draft, but is planning on spending another season with Myrtle Beach to continue his development. This should provide no shortage of entertaining moments with him. We may be seeing a unique type of history in the making with Stephens, and I must admit that I'm excited to be here to document the process.
As practice ended and the crowds began to disperse, I caught hold of Warren's arms and finally got up the courage to ask him what "The Incident" I'd heard so much about was.
"Now that's a long story for another time," he told me, laughing.
"How about Thursday?" I asked, eager to get the full story to something I'd been hearing about since his arrival with the team.
"If I'm not too hung over, sure!" He seemed almost eager to relive this legendary moment. I hoped he wouldn't be too hungover.
We agreed to meet at a local coffee shop the day after Christmas for this interview. I arrived a couple minutes early, praying under my breath that he would show up as his usual chipper self and wouldn't be "too hungover." Although I struggle to understand what "too hungover" might mean to him since it seems the man always has a bottle of rum at hand. I'm also not really sure how he still has a liver.
He walked in, exactly on time, a big smile on his face and a gift bag in hand. He sat down at the table, plopped the bag in front of me, and proudly exclaimed "I got you something! Open it!" I, of course, obliged him, and was very amused to pull out a bottle of Bumbu rum that Stephens had gotten signed by the Myrtle Beach secondary. The barista was quick to inform us that alcohol was not permitted here, so the interview had to wait a few moments while I tucked the treasure into the trunk of my car, wrapped carefully to keep it from rolling around and shattering.
Finally, we were ready to go.
"So what is this incident from Baylor I keep hearing about?" I asked, eager to finally hear this story.
He sat back and drummed his fingers on the table, that slight smile on his face that always seem to appear when people are remembering some fond memory. "Well," he finally started, "my debut game was against SMU after my redshirt year. I finally felt like I knew the system and was ready to go. And I think I proved that when I picked a ball off in the first quarter. So, you know, when you get your first pick or things like that, you get to keep the game ball. So coach held onto the ball until after the game. And they gave it to me with the date and all that written on there, which was pretty neat.
"Well," he continued, "after the game, one of my conerback buddies invited me out to this party to celebrate. And up to this point, I'd never been that much of a partier. I mean sure, I'd go out once in a while with some friends, but never anything this big. I mean this was a par-tay. And, believe it or not, I'd never had rum before this party. But they had this drink there. It was something pretty dumb, I think. If I remember right, it was Malibu rum, blue Gatorade, and Cherry Seven-Up and I f****** loved that s**t. Especially since, you know, alcohol dehydrates you but gatorade gives you back electrolytes. So if you drink alcohol and gatorade together, you get drunk slower!"
I'm not sure if that's a fact or not, but he seemed pretty certain it was.
"Anyways," he went on, "I had like 10 of those and finally just found the guy who was making it and asked for the bottle of rum. Yes, the bottle. He seemed a bit weirded out but I think I scared him a bit. So he gave me the bottle of rum and I guess they'd just opened a new one to make some more drinks because it had a lot in it. And before I knew it, I'd had a couple bottles and was carrying around that football. And then the next thing I know, my friends are yelling at me while we're walking home.
"Now I don't think I did this, because it's not something I would do, but they tell me they threw me and my buddies out because I threw the game ball at the damn kid after they wouldn't give me another bottle of rum. But they kept my game ball!"
He went on a long rant about the hosts of the party here and I didn't think it was really worth including, though the tirade was rather impressive.
"But yeah," he finished with a sigh, finally winding down from his explicit tirade, "that's the first time I had rum. And lost a game ball after my debut. I still get texts from those teammates laughing at me about that."
"Isn't Baylor I dry campus, though?" I have no clue why that was my first thought or follow up question after all that, but here we are. He just rolled his eyes in response.
We continued chatting while we finished our coffee before I wished him happy holidays, thanked him for the gift, and returned to my office to write this. The bottle of rum is now proudly displayed on one of my shelfs, though I doubt I'll ever be able to bring myself to open it. There's never a dull moment around the Myrtle Beach Buccaneers.
