If we’re really going to celebrate Chad Boyd’s memory then we need to celebrate all of it. There were many facets to Chad’s personality, ergo his name Big Country. My most enduring memory of him will always be a big guy with an even bigger heart
 

But damn it, Chad could be a pain in the ass. You know it and so do I and I honestly believe Chad would be pissed at us if were too busy with gushing tributes that we forgot that part of his personality. You know what I’m talking about.  Maybe you just finished playing and had a crappy game. You get up to the bleachers and pop a beer and are still seething about going 0 for 4 and suddenly somebody comes up behind you and pulls your shorts down. Damn it Chad! “Y’all gotta relax,” he would say. “It’s only a damn softball game. You’ll probably go 0 for 4 again so relax.” I mean, talk about charm. 

 And then he would be off like Groucho Marx stalking back and forth along the bleacher wall. Starting at the stairs and snaking his way along till he ended up in T-Macville drinking moonshine with all the Canadian hillbillies. His peeps. Chad was a restless soul and when he worked the bleachers we were all merely extras in the latest version of the Big Country show.

 Entertaining and maddening, when Chad was in the bleachers you could never relax. You were looking over your shoulder, tightening the draw sting on your shorts and making sure your wife or girlfriend was not being hoisted high in the air by Big Country. “Y’all gonna sit around and watch softball all day, I’m gonna steal your girl.” He kept you on your toes and rarely did Big Country take a day off.  So it behooves one and all to not take the day off on Big Country day. You know the routine: a little song, a little dance, a little seltzer in your pants.

-- Tim Noonan