Jake Spoon & Damon Evans “crossed the line”

July15/ 2010

Jake Spoon rode with McRae & Call’s Texas Rangers.  He was a solid comrade but a rascal. He fell in with the cutthroat Suggs’ Gang for a few days. They got caught and they got hung.  Jake too.  Jake, and Damon Evans, “crossed the line”.

WARNING:  This one is a bit lengthy.  It may take you longer to read this than it did for Georgia to fire Damon Evans or Gus McRae to hang Jake Spoon.

Answers to Life’s “how comes” are found in either The Godfather or Lonesome Dove. Today’s its Lonesome Dove and Jake Spoon.

Jake and Trouble had a fondness for each other.  Jake fell in with the horse-thieving, man-burning Suggs’ Gang.  He didn’t steal a horse or burn a man, but he rode with’em.  The Rangers caught’em.

Jake:  I just fell in with these boys.  I was gonna leave’em first chance I got.
Gus:  I wish you’d taken your leave a little earlier, Jake.  You ride with an outlaw, you die with an outlaw.  You crossed the line.
Jake:  I didn’t see no line, Gus.  I was just trying to get through the Territory without getting scalped.

Jake’s horse bolted, the rope jerked and Jake’s neck snapped.  Jake Spoon, a good man, crossed the line.


From all accounts Damon Evans is a good man.  When Damon crossed the line a stellar career and reputation were destroyed and possibly his marriage and family. Damon Evans’ is the latest chronicling of man’s hell-bent fondness for suicide by dumbification.

Jake hooked up with the Suggs Gang.  Damon sampled forbidden fruit in the bacchanalian bistros of Atlanta’s Buckhead district.

That Georgia Mountie posed his query at 11:45 PM Wednesday night – “I don’t care WHO you are, but I am curious WHY those red panties are between your legs.” ….. Four days later Damon Evans’ career as one of America’s most prominent college Athletics Directors snapped just as cleanly as Jake Spoon’s neck.

I have no issue with the quick fates of Jake or Damon.  The wages of “crossing the line” are great.  How quickly it was meted out WAS surprising in these times when justice moves at the pace of a snail dragging a bus.

Those who know Damon Evans personally, professionally via his worthy accomplishments at Georgia laud him.  All the positive adjectives – low-key, conservative, button-down, fine husband/father, solid, etc.  Damon’s peers were as shocked as that Georgia Mountie about those red panties between Damon’s legs.

Beyond the Yee-Haa Factor in this there are legitimate points of contemplation over the link between man, hot stoves, wet paint, forbidden fruit, and red panties.

Philanderers fall into Two categories:
Stone cold playas & Neo-playas

I put Damon Evans in a Neo-category with Mike Price, John Edwards and Tiger Woods.  NOT in the category with Bill Clinton, Ted Kennedy and Michael Jordan.

The latter are  stone-cold playas.   Hard-wired hedonists with kevlar egos, devoid of conscience, incapable of remorse – cold-bloodied seekers of carnal pleasures with wanton disregard for anyone and everyone.  Beware the stone cold, cold-bloodied playas.

You might lump John Edwards and certainly Tiger Woods with the stone cold playas. I don’t.  Mike Price you may not recall by name – the Alabama FB coach who woke up next to a skank from a Panama City nudie bar.  Mike was also quickly  dispatched.

Was their vision impaired by John Barleycorn and eau de skank?  Makes no matter.  When Caron The Boatman rows you across The River Styxx, he will demand payment upon reaching the other side.  Your unfamiliarity with the dangers awaiting you on the other side is not Caron’s concern.  The boatman must be paid.

With Damon, Eldrick and Edwards it was their neo playa naïveté that brought them down.  It usually does.  A stone cold playa KNOWS he will eventually get caught, and simply doesn’t care.  The neo-playa can’t comprehend “getting caught”. All invariably do.  I maintain within EVERY man lurks two dormant genes:

(1) The swash-buckling adventurer aka The Dos Equis Man  “stay thirsty my friends” ….. and

(2) The stone cold playa with the well-carved bedpost.

Bond, James Bond being the quintessential merging of the two.

What accountant, actuary, periodontist, or loan officer has not effected a 1,000 yard stare, imagining himself:

•    In an Indiana Jones fedora and bomber jacket racing thru the back alleys of Istanbul on a matter of the greatest urgency?
•    Waking up in a suite at The Ritz with three NFL cheerleaders, two empty bottle of Dom P and absolutely no clue where he left the rental car. Or how those red panties got between his legs.

Wearing a fedora and a bomber jacket won’t destroy your career and your reputation.

I watched Damon Evans in his media appearances.  I did NOT see a stone cold playa.  I saw an accomplished and driven young man approaching mid-life with a

But few, if any, Erotic Adventures.

Hallmark card family and a wall of career plaudits … but few if any erotic adventures.

Most men have few, if any, erotic adventures but erroneously assume everyone else surely must ….. because they say they do! … uh oh.

Man’s Quest for Erotic Adventures is as futile as The Holy Grail or The Lost Dutchman Mine.  It is a noteworthy rite-of-passage when a man realizes that ….. there have been only 358 truly memorable erotic adventures since the dawn of time.  Of those 358, 315 were achieved by eight Moroccan satyrs and a Brazilian porn star named Pablo.  That is a total of 52 different men who have actually had truly memorable erotic adventures since the dawn of time.  The odds that any of the 52 belong to your golf foursome, your poker group, your law firm, or your Rotary Club are statistically zero.

Why risk career, family and reputation seeking something no one else in your Life orbit has ever achieved.  Do what they are doing.  Make one up.  …… you joined the Mile High Club with a stew named Stefani on a United red-eye between Boston and DFW in March of 1997.  She looked like Adrienne Barbeau and said her husband was a utility infielder for the Cubs.  You remember the date because it was your mother-in-law’s birthday.  ….. There’s just a quick example. See how easy it is.

Tell that to three of your buddies.  One of whom reads this column and will know you’re lying.  The other two will believe you, be envious as heck and commit some Damonesque act of stoopidity ruining their lives in the process.

You cannot be fired or divorced for cause for making up a fictitious erotic adventure.  Otherwise 85% of the yahoos at your golf club would be unemployed and divorced.  Up from the 55% that actually are.

For 40 years Damon Evans, the straight arrow, wondered what he was missing.  One year later the answer to what he is missing is – an outstanding career, a reputation and possibly his family.  In their place he has a pair of red panties from a Buckhead bimbo named Courtney.

Damon prowled Buckhead with his AMEX and his Bulldog business card.  Tiger ho-hopped from coast to coast …. “The humble son of a mill worker” said GOLLEE when Rielle The Airhead said he was “rad”.

Each celebrity philanderer was dragged into the public square to be pilloried and flogged in some fashion.

Damon Evans, Eldrick and Edwards realized the indelible stain upon their lives and those they truly cared for.  Like all neo-playas – they cried.

Clinton, Kennedy, Jordan et al simply shrugged and smirked remembering all the times they were not caught and contemplating future escapades.  Stone cold playas never cry.  Stone cold playas never cross the line. They live fulltime on that other side.

Damon Evans got hooked on the “meth” of Buckhead within the past year.  Damon and wife Kerri discussed Tiger’s trainwreck as we all did.  Wonder what Damon was thinking?

Many were watching Damon Evan’s Nightmare On Peachtree Street and discussing it with their wives as we all did.   Which of “many” will be next?


The price of forbidden fruit = career – family – reputation
The price of a fedora and a bomber jacket  = $275.00

Stay thirsty, my friends.
But take care how you quench that thirst …. my friends


Question BobLee?
You did not include Nobel Laureat Al “sex poodle” Gore among the celebrity philanderers ?
A: No, I did not. His clumsy efforts with a 53 y/o red-haired massuese in a Portland hotel room were more pathetic than philanderous.  Al is on our “watch list“.
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