Five Stick Friday

This morning, after a 18-day hospital stay following a sepsis infection, the world lost Scott Allen Lambert. We all knew him as “Scotty, Lambert, or Hoyt”. I met Scott in 1982 at the Lambda Chi Alpha house at Georgia Tech. And right away, I knew this guy was bigger than life. He had a mischievous smile on his face, an infectious laugh, and only had one gear…at that was full speed with the tachometer red-lined.

He was already a member of the fraternity, and though we were the same age, I didn’t join a fraternity my first year at Tech, so I was a lowly rushee. I don’t exactly remember our first conversation, but I do know it did take place during Fall Rush of 1982 in what the fraternity deemed the “tube” room , the only place the house had a television. And while the details of that conversation are kind of lost after 43 years, I do remember this… he asked me “Are you really interested in joining this fraternity? Because it’s okay if you don’t and you’re just out checking things out…” That was Scott…he was supposed to be “rushing” the attendees but he was really more interested in what I thought about the whole process. I remember responding, “I’ve been here a year, and I’ve kinda noticed this place (Lambda Chi Alpha)…you guys seem to have pretty good parties, and do well in events like Homecoming and Greek Week.” He kind of chuckled and said “Yeah that’s all good…but these are just a great bunch of guys…they love the hell out of life”. I can honestly say that I walked into the Rush process a skeptic. Scott made an immediate impression…and in another post at another time, I’ll explain how Jimmy Zerkus is the greatest “closer” known to mankind.

Scott was an I.E. and I had started as Ch.E. so we didn’t have a lot of classes together. Most of our interactions were at the fraternity house. He lived there with his hometown friend Brett Newsom, and I was still in the dorms. So I didn’t get a lot of the “academic” Scott…I got the “social” Scott…and I consider myself the winner in that trade-off. It wasn’t long after meeting Scott that I learned that he and Brett loved live rock and roll music…and we became regular late night patrons of Charley McGruders, a hole in the wall rock bar serving watered-down drinks and deafening rock and roll. Some of my fondest memories are riding in Brett’s ultra-tricked out Honda Accord ( tinted windows and a stereo system to rival the Fox) and listening to Scott sing rock classics like “My Woman From Tokyo”, “Whole Lotta Love”, “I Wanna Rock”, and many other rock standards that were prevalent in the 80’s. I should be perfectly clear. Scott couldn’t really sing much at all. But he would sing those songs at the top of his lungs with a passion we should all aspire to… he didn’t CARE that he really couldn’t sing.

There was never a bigger Georgia Tech football fan than Scott. That human doesn’t exist. I’ll never forget after Bill Curry took the Alabama job, and Tech hired Bobby Ross, Scott told me “He will take Tech to a national championship… you wait.” I thought he’d hit his head. And yet a few short years later, Scott, Susan, Laurie, myself, and a bunch of other diehards found ourselves in Orlando for a Georgia Tech-Nebraska Citrus Bowl celebration that we somehow made last a full week. During that time we took over the German Dinner Theater at Epcot Center with Scott leading the German drinking toast while swinging the biggest beer mug I’ve ever seen yelling “Ziki Zaki Ziki Zaki Hoy Hoy Hoy!” at the top of his lungs…and then leading our group of 16 or so onto the dance floor to awkardly stomp our way through the “Chicken Dance”. It wasn’t pretty, but it sure was fun. We had a big party the night before the Citrus Bowl, and again…out with a large group…the performing band struck up “Wooly Bully” … and when the chorus came around Scott dutifiully replaced the words “wooly bully” with “Ken Swilling…Ken Swilling…Ken Swilling”…a shoutout to Tech’s All-American safety.

That was 1990. A few years later, in 1996, Scott and I quit TALKING about doing an offshore saltwater fishing trip and we actually did it. I’d been to Key West the year before and had done well catching Mahi, Wahoo, Tuna, and King Mackerel, but I’d never caught a Tarpon (primarily inshore) or a billfish (primarily offshore). Scott and I decided to head back down to the Keys to fish for a full weekend to try to do both.

And while it’s a fishing story, it has a larger purpose. The first day we fished inshore for Tarpon. Without getting into micro detail, there is a proper way to set the hook on a tarpon to prevent the remaining line on your reel from exploding into a “birds nest” and making the reel completely useless. To save words, I’ll just note that Scott wasn’t notably good at that “proper way”…his first tarpon hook-up was a fish in the 90-100 pound range…the fish made one leap and Scott took his thumb off the reel barrel…POOF! Birds nest. Reel completely useless. With a 100 pound fish on the other end putting on an aerial display of jumps and flips. Scott looked to the captain and just about every side of his personality went on display…

Step 1. Problem solving…”Hey Cap…can I pull this fish in by HAND without the reel?” This drew gales of laughter from the Captain…and the Captain’s Dad who just happened to be serving as First Mate. The notion of catching a 100 pound tarpon without the leverage of a rod and the power to take line with a reel was an obvious non-starter.

Step 2. ( As the First Mate is preparing to cut the line)…”Hey, is there any way to “TRANSFER” this line to another working reel so I can catch this fish?” I learned later this wasn’t necessarily the craziest request in the world as I’ve seen other saltwater captains do it…but it wasn’t happening this day on this small center console boat with a linebacker of a tarpon screaming around the boat and regularly leaping several feet out of the water.

Step 3. ( As the First Mate Cuts the Line): Scott:” Somehow I feel partially responsible for this… DAMMIT I wanted that fish”. Bart Simpson Humor…followed by heartfelt frustration.

And finally Step 4…as we cruised in to a bayside lunch spot before going offshore in the afternoon… “Henry, I’ve missed two hooksets and birdnested a reel with a huge fish on it…I feel like the Washington Generals of Sportfishing!” When he realized I didn’t immediately catch the reference, he said ” You know! That team that always loses to the Harlem Globetrotters. Those tarpon are out there LAUGHING at me! I’m telling you right now I’m catching the next one!”

There’s the “Gospel of Scotty” in a nutshell. Wben a challenge presents itself, give it your all. Even if you birdnest your reel. And then try to FIX the problem, even if the fix is not even remotely realistic. And then? Find humor even in a frustrating moment…But finally? Humorously self-deprecate and GET BACK IN THE FIGHT! I am proud to report that not only on this trip but one we took with Ryan Doering a couple of years later, Scott mastered the “hookset” on a “chumline in the current ” Tarpon bite, fought those tarpon perfectly including the crucial “bow to the king” when they jump, and boated several over the span of those two trips.

I could fill this blog from now until Tech wins another national title with “Scott stories”…they are abundant and have all kinds of identifiers such as:

” My Car’s on Fire” …when Scott did literally have his Datsun 240-Z catch on fire one night while inexplicably street-racing on Peachtree Street.

“Where the HELL do you think Tech is, EGYPT?” – when Scott reacted to Georgia Tech’s top 10 ranking being announced on the bar TV while we played pool at Ken’s Tavern in 1984. Long story short, Scott had to deliver a geography lesson to an oversized Georgia Fan who took exception to Scott’s exuberant outburst in support of Georgia Tech. Oh yeah…after the bartender kicked the other dude out, we found out he was on parole for murder. Never a dull moment with Scott.

“I DEFY YOU!” – when Scott, with the storytelling acumen of Stephen King, described the absolute terror of using an outdoor restroom at a Restaurant in Key West on a 103-degree day at noon. It remains of all the Scotty stories the gold standard of Lambert-lore.

But with all I could memorialize about those times and those stories, I’d rather stick to the belief that those times weren’t that awesome because of WHAT we were doing…but WHO we were doing it with. Scott was one of those guys you just wanted to be around to “do things with” whether it was volleyball at his lakehouse on Lake Lanier, a roadtrip to a Georgia Tech Basketball Game in Chattanooga, or finding yourself in 16-foot waves 63 miles off the Outer Banks of North Carolina wondering if you were going to survive..only to watch Scotty stumble by on the deck with a cigar in his mouth, a cold beer in his hand, and a ear to ear grin while the rest of us were deciding if we were going to hold our lunch. And then him looking at me and saying….”Hoyt! Get up! Cap’tain’s marking tuna on the fish finder!” Never mind that the waves were literally blocking out the sun.

As will happen, we all graduate and begin that bravely ambitious part of our lives when we’re going to change the world or flame out trying. In January of 1987, our “gang” was celebrating the wedding of another of our crew, Allen and Pam Vance. After the reception, and all of us being over-involved Georgia Tech Basktball fans, we reconvened at a local sportsbar to watch the Georgia Tech-Virginia game. As fate would have it, some young ladies who were every bit as empassioned about their Virginia Wahoos were there that evening…and that’s how Scott met Susan. It’s absolutley impossible to assemble a complete rememberance of Scott without Susan. I stand this day and testify to the hills that God had to create a very special woman to complement Mr. “Tachometer in the Red” Scott Lambert. And Susan is just that woman.

Laurie and I had the pleasure to vacation with Scott and Susan at the Natinal Title Football game, a few years later at Virginia Beach when Susan and Laurie were pregnant with Curtis and Davis, along with birthdays at the Lake House, road trips to Durham, and many other occasions. I’m truly jealous of the manner in which Scott and Susan “fit” each other when they first started dating, as they got married, as they became parents, and as their nest emptied. We lost touch a bit when they moved from Atlanta to Norfolk, but like all deep friendships we could always pick right back up when we were together.

I’m so thankful that during the Christmas season of both 2021 and 2022, we were able to have Scott and Susan over and have a major showing of the “gang” to catch up, tell stories, brag on our kids, and as Scott noted that day back in the tube room of the Lambda Chi House, “love the hell out of life”.

I’m concluding this post in semi-disbelief that he’s really gone. But this I know…the world is permanently more dim today than it was yesterday…and somewhere off in the ether…Scott has started the story….”Well, it was a hundred degrees in the shade and we were at 7-mile grill in Key West….” and damn if I don’t wish I was there to hear it.

Godspeed to you Scott. God bless you in your grief Susan. We love you.