The Life and Times of the Dawgvent, episode seven
This is the seventh of nine chapters in the history of the Dawgvent, with all its twists and turns. From a handful of football-loving computer geeks to the biggest mouth in the SEC media, this is the story of the worldwide leader in Georgia Bulldog reporting. Adapted from the book Sax Attacks, by Rob Suggs.
Episode Seven: The Parting of the Red Sea
The Vent was at a crisis point. It had developed such broad-ranging conversation that true sports devotees were becoming impatient. “Take it to the Water Cooler,” they would impatiently reply to off-topic remarks. They were referring to a board where politics, religion, and other controversies could be broached, and endless wars could be fought.
After all, for days on end—particularly during the offseason, but not always—people would discuss everything but football. During one era, for some reason, Venters would post single lines from songs. It started innocuously enough as a “guess the song” thing, but since everybody knows a song or two, the Vent would be completely overrun by lines from songs for days, even weeks, at a time. Post a thing ("what is your job?") that anyone at all can post, and you'll start something that may never end. For days and days, the Vent was a puzzling, random assortment of lines from the middles of obscure songs.
Or arguments would break out over whether Corona was a true beer, what should happen to President Clinton, or even (gasp) the volatile issues of race or religion. Football obsessives would bang futilely on their keyboards, all but weeping: “Take it to the Water Cooler!” But nobody really did.
Football Here, Life There
Most posters didn’t even know where to find the “Water Cooler,” and besides, it took an extra click—a click that could be invested on checking out the “eye candy” in somebody’s post, once “sigs” (recurring JPEGs or favorite quotes) could be appended to posts. Once you were on the Vent, you weren’t about to leave the room and miss who-knew-what. Sometimes you'd take a quick toilet break, and damn! Something erupted, fifteen posts were nuked, and you missed the whole thing! That'll teach you to leave.
Steve could have laid down the law, sports only, but he also knew there were some very strange and slightly scary people on the Vent. Sometimes he heard odd noises on the back lawn at night. Steve was always a big Second Amendment guy.
Besides, there was a better solution. In a move that shook the very foundations of Georgia Bulldog fan Internet bulletin board civilization, he left the board right where it was and how it was—and made a new place for the football-only group. A promised land. A whole new nation, peopled by good citizens with fine manners and articulate football opinions.
Which, happily, was something that could be monetized.
Henceforth, anything and everything within decent bounds, was fair game on what was now known as the “Free Vent.” But now there was the “Pay Vent.” It would be a premium board, dedicated to sports and sports only (or, as we say in Georgia, “football and football only”).
Those fed up with discussions of beer and barbecue and dating conquests were all too ready to fork out subscription money. Think of it: a dominion better than this world; a place all-football, all the time; a habitat where nobody posted song lyrics; the hope of an eternal posting life, where we could have nice things, because we paid for them.
Soon the name of the free board was changed to The Chat, or Dawg Chat. Over time, the two boards, the Dawgvent (on the pay side) and the Chat (free) became entirely different environments with their own populations, and even a little friction between them.
Some, in misty-eyed nostalgia, bemoan the day when “it became all about money.” The nostalgia loses sight of the fact that this was an inevitable stage of board evolution, much like the day the first human decided to stop being a fish, tracked water out of the pond, and built himself a football stadium. You didn't really want to swim around in that icky pond anymore with the other algae, did you?
The Vent Comes of Age
And then, time seemed to halt. Not only was there no snark, no eye candy, there wasn't even any football talk.
September 11, 2001 was a notable date in Vent history, just as it was for the USA. Those who were Venters experienced the shock of the terror attack together, an experience of virtual community that no one would ever forget. In a way, this was the day when Venters realized the power of the new medium of Internet society.
People found they could share genuine emotions, both positive and negative, in a way they might not in other places. In the beginning of the morning, people were discussing the new Georgia coach, Mark Richt, who had just lost to South Carolina in his first SEC game. The Houston Cougars were coming on Saturday. Already the new coach was being questioned by the eternal askers of questions.
Then came the first post of the rest of our lives, along the lines of, “Is anyone watching the news?”
A plane had hit a World Trade Center building in New York City. How could such a thing happen? A few theories were thrown out. They seemed far-fetched. Probably just a very tragic accident.
Then, a while later, someone else posted that it had happened to another building in the WTC.
No denying it now. America was under attack.
On the only comparable occasions, such as Pearl Harbor or the JFK assassination, there had been nothing like the Internet. It had been more of a front-porch world then. You called your loved ones on the phone, huddled with neighbors, gathered in your children.
But with this event, the personal experience was something as new as the idea of a domestic terror attack—dozens of people, faceless fonts but caring souls, commiserating and theorizing together; people uplifting other people whom they might never meet in person; a futuristic comfort for a futuristic terror.
[Editor's note: As the Dawgvent had the capacity to handle extreme Signing Day traffic, it was one of the few internet news sites that didn't crash. Many people learned of subsequent events on the Vent that day.]
Over the next few days and weeks, football was forgotten, the Houston game was rescheduled for December, and Venters came together at all hours to work through the new geopolitical realities together. As a matter of fact, since the team already had a BYE after the scheduled Houston game, there was a very rare two-week blank in the football schedule. So while the game faded to a backdrop, people continued to show up at the Vent, keeping up with the newest information on the attack.
The obsession for football created the board. But real people, with all their diversity and idiosyncrasies, made the board into something far more unique and fascinating.
Next: Vent as a Second Language