The infamous Tennstud trashed Kiffin on Finebaum Show

#1

DaytonLawVol

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#1
For some reason, the infamous Tennstud felt the need to trash Coach Kiffin as acting like a "little punk" on the Paul Finebaum show out of Birmingham. I dont want to go into all the details about Tennstud, why he is relevant, Paul Finebaum etc... because it would take too long. Needless to say, this is basically Benedict Arnold part deux.
 
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#4
#4
the fact that the word "Fort" was banned but Tennstud is still allowed boggles the mind
My guess is that Freak fears posters with "alternate" lifestyles will be offended if mentions of Roy Lightintheloafers are banned.
 
#9
#9
For some reason, the infamous Tennstud over on rockytop.com felt the need to trash Coach Kiffin as acting like a "little punk" on the Paul Finebaum show out of Birmingham. I dont want to go into all the details about Tennstud, why he is relevant, Paul Finebaum etc... because it would take too long. Needless to say, this is basically Benedict Arnold part deux.

He called him a punk? Coming from stud, is that a subtle romantic offer? What do you think, Ras?
 
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#11
#11
...
PaulFinebaum.jpg
:crazy::crazy:
 
#14
#14
Ok, so someone tell me who this Tennstud is. I have heard him referenced in the recruiting boards but he is always wrong.
 
#17
#17
His name is Roy Adams, not John Adams. You can find more info. Just google him.
He posts a lot on Gridscape and fancied himself to be on the inside--at least until Fulmer left.

He apparently throws large parties on football Saturdays at his compound in Memphis. Many luminaries attend.
 
#20
#20
Ok, so someone tell me who this Tennstud is. I have heard him referenced in the recruiting boards but he is always wrong.

Lightning rod
TennStud: A man, 'fanatic' marked by contradictions

By Zack McMillin - Memphis Commercial Reporter
Contact
October 22, 2004

As the football player for the University of Georgia races past
Tennessee defenders and into the end zone, Roy Adams frets.

It is Saturday, Oct. 9, and the usual few dozen football fans are
gathered at Adams's home in East Memphis to watch Tennessee play
Georgia. In the den, Adams has five TVs tuned to five games -- more than
200 inches of TV space, altogether.

The set in the middle, the 52-inch big-screen, shows Tennessee and
Georgia. And now the referee is signaling a penalty on Georgia and no
touchdown.

"Those officials are going to get killed," says Tim Jones.

Jones's photo is among the nearly 600 framed pictures and articles that
cover Adams's walls like wallpaper, a collage that testifies to his
large circle of "dear friends" from the college football world and his
rise from the "slums of South Memphis" to his current status as a
wealthy owner of a property management company.

A former quarterback for the local college football program Adams still
refers to as Memphis State, Jones has known Adams since he played for
the Tigers and is a regular at the football parties.

"See," says Adams, "that's why you've got to have policemen in society.
Georgia was crooked."

Adams has come to consider himself something of an authority on
crookedness, and he doesn't deny that college football, this game he
loves, has a corrupting influence.

"Those football factories, the players are there to generate revenue,"
Adams says. "If we get to where these football players can read or
write, that would be an admirable goal.

"It's all a joke."

And yet, those who know Adams say the 66-year-old UT graduate is the
biggest college football fan in Memphis, if not the entire Southeast
(and, hence, the country). When it comes to Tennessee football, the
shortened "fan" does not do Adams's fervor justice.

His fanaticism is such that the mere mention of his name can create
controversy among SEC fans.

This is just one of many contradictions in the Dickensian character
that is Roy Adams.

"Being a college football fan is a sickness," Adams says. "College
football is a cult, and we are all in different cults. It's like Jim
Jones and all those people committing suicide. Alabama and Tennessee
fans are the same way."

When Alabama plays Tennessee this week, Roy Adams will sit in Neyland
Stadium urging his beloved Volunteers to defeat hated Alabama.

To many Tennessee fans, Adams is an eccentric -- with a capital "E" --
and colorful character who does no harm.

To many Alabama fans, Adams looms as a sinister character in a rivalry
now more bitter and more intense because of Tennessee's involvement with
the NCAA and FBI investigation that led to severe sanctions against
Alabama.

It was Adams and his former UT-educated attorney, Southland Capital
president Karl Schledwitz, who first urged former Trezevant assistant
coach Milton Kirk to tell NCAA officials about the recruitment of Albert
Means, who signed with Alabama in 2000.

In 2001, Kirk claimed that Memphian Logan Young, a wealthy Alabama
booster, gave $200,000 to former Trezevant coach Lynn Lang to steer his
prize recruit, Means, to the Crimson Tide.

The story, first reported by The Commercial Appeal, turned into a
national scandal. An FBI investigation produced guilty pleas from Kirk
and Lang for shopping Means and an indictment of Young, who has always
denied any involvement with Means's recruitment.

Adams first emerged as a herald of sorts, trumpeting allegations that
Young was spending money to steer players to Alabama.

On the Tennessee message board, Adams uses the handle, "TennStud,"
after the old Jimmy Driftwood song.

Adams has gloried in Alabama's troubles, and the word "gloat" and the
term "rub it in" are often used to describe his posts.

"With Alabama fans, he can create a stir in a heartbeat," says Rodney
Orr, who runs the popular Alabama message board TiderInsider.

Phillip Shanks, an attorney in Cordova, has filed lawsuits along with
Montgomery, Ala., attorney Tommy Gallion against the NCAA and Tennessee
coach Phillip Fulmer on behalf of their clients, former Alabama
assistant coaches Ronnie Cottrell and Ivy Williams.

In a now-famous episode among hardcore UT and Alabama fans, Adams
showed up to a deposition with Shanks wearing his white coonskin cap and
carrying a bottle of whiskey.

Adams often directs his verbal barrages at Shanks and Gallion.

This was a post from earlier this week: "When you are right, as we
Tennesseans are, when you are principled, as we Tennesseans are, when
you are abiding by the rules and winning, as we Tennesseans are, then
all the evil in the world as represented by Gallion and his ilk can do
the University of Tennessee no harm!!"

Shanks clearly despises Adams.

"At my age, a man is fortunate if his chief enemy in the world is a
discredited (man) like Roy Adams," Shanks says. "I'm fortunate that Roy
Adams is my chief tormentor, and thank God it's not somebody with any
credibility."

Most afternoons, Adams can be found in the dining room area of his
house, half of which he's converted to an office.

He tunes his satellite radio to listen to Paul Finebaum, a sports
writer in Birmingham with a popular sports talk show. His computer,
which is crammed into a cluttered desk, is always turned on and always
logged into the UT message board known as Gridscape.

Adams began visiting message boards eight years ago and for years used
WebTV to access the Internet.

He recently made his 4,000th post on Gridscape.

"Gridscape is the New York Times of chatboards," he says. "Notre Dame
would be the Wall Street Journal."

And the Alabama board?

"TiderInsider is the National Enquirer," Adams says with a sly smile.
"Just goofballs that still live in the past who say, 'We will do this
...' It's just funny. I mainly followed it through the years with the
Logan Young thing, and I knew what was true and they were all in denial.
And still are."

Orr, as soft spoken as Adams is loud, doesn't seem to share the deep
grudge his customers hold against Adams, but he acknowledges that Adams
inflames Tide fans.

"What's so funny is how he paints this picture of Tennessee being so
clean, and naturally Alabama fans aren't going to see it quite that
way," says Orr. "And then he paints Alabama to be the dirtiest program
in the history of the NCAA. Roy has admitted he's had relationships with
college players, and there's talk Roy was banned from the University of
Tennessee, so fans see it as a guy who is hypocritical."

Adams practically crows that, "We won! They lost! We have been
vindicated!"

Even his friends, like Schledwitz, think Adams would do himself a favor
by toning it down.

"I've said that to him so many times until I'm blue in the face,"
Schledwitz says. "

Alabama fans, for their part, believe Adams might yet receive his
comeuppance.

"Let's just leave it at this," Shanks says. "Roy has some exposure. He
has said some things about my clients that are untrue and some things
about the University of Alabama that are untrue.

"We'll have to see what happens."

The shrill noise of a phone ringing interrupts the action of the
UT-Georgia game.

Milton Kirk, reclined in a Roy Adams big leather easy chair, the one
directly across the big screen showing UT-Georgia, picks up the
receiver.

"Roy Adams residence," Kirk says, to no avail. He repeats: "Roy Adams
residence."

Gerald Riggs fumbles. Phone rings again. This time Adams answers.

It's Derrick Ballard, a linebacker at the University of Memphis from
2000-03. Tiger players are regulars at Adams's house, and some will come
by on this day, too, since Memphis has an off week.

"He's a good friend," Adams says of Ballard.

The "good friends" and "dear friends" that populate Adams's life are
too numerous to count. Many are former U of M players. Some met Adams
through his longtime connection with Northwest Mississippi Community
College in Senatobia. Others visited with friends of friends and partook
of the food and drink always available at the East Memphis abode for
Friends of Roy.

Adams says he has bought "five or six" cars for U o f M players dating
back decades.
 
#21
#21
As Tennessee drives into field goal range, Adams tells the story of a
car he gave an LSU player more than a decade ago.

"I said, 'What are you going to do with the plates?' " Adams explains.
"They said, 'Why?' I told them that at UT they check the titles, but
they said, 'It doesn't matter here.' "

The defining moment in Roy Adams's life came in 1952, when he walked
into the downtown campaign headquarters for Sen. Estes Kefauver and
contributed his $5 to electing the political enemy of E.H. 'Boss' Crump
to the presidency.

Adams was 14.

"If I had not done that, I wouldn't have met the prominent anti-Crump
people who took me under their wing," Adams says now.

Adams became a regular at the headquarters and soon enough met some of
the giants of local politics -- Lucius Burch, Edmund Orgill, Al Rickey
and, of course, Sen. Kefauver himself.

"Because I was this poor kid, they looked after me," Adams says.

Adams calls his late mother, Irene, the "nucleus" of the family and
recalls that she made $1 an hour as an egg candler. His father, Harris,
worked for the Frisco railroad and was, Roy says, an alcoholic with
violent tendencies.

The children of tenant farmers in Batesville, Miss., Edith and Harris
permanently moved the family to South Memphis, to a triplex on Edith
Avenue, when Roy was in elementary school.

"We started out on top, 200 square feet, paid our rent on time and were
able to work our way to the bottom," Adams says.

Politics became Roy's ticket out of South Memphis. Even though the
Democrats lost control of the Senate in 1952, Adams says Sens. Kefauver
and Al Gore Sr. convinced a Nebraska Republican to give the young
Memphian a cherished appointment as a Senatorial page.

Adams would spend three years as a page and proudly displays two high
school diplomas. One is from Central, where he would attend until late
January, and the other, signed by one Dwight David Eisenhower, from the
Capitol Hill Page School.

He also has framed large, signed photographs of John F. Kennedy, Harry
S. Truman, Richard Nixon, Lyndon Johnson and, of course, Kefauver.

"I guarantee I was the poorest guy ever in Washington as a Senate
page," Adams says.

That began a career in politics that lasted until after he graduated
from UT, in 1963. Adams would serve as Youth Chairman for statewide
campaigns and says he has spoken from the courthouse steps in every
county in Tennessee.

At Tennessee, where he attended from 1956-63 (interrupted by a stint in
the Army reserves), Adams developed a reputation as a power-broker in
campus politics.

One of his former political opponents, Nashville entertainment lawyer
Ralph Gordon, said he has neither seen nor talked to Adams since their
college days and was unaware of Adams's notoriety among SEC football
fans.

But his memories of Adams then fit the personality of the man they now
call TennStud.

"He was always a guy to push the envelope," Gordon says. "He was a
fierce competitor, I will tell you that. ... He would do everything he
could to see that his people got the most (publicity). Nothing illegal
that I saw or underhanded as such, just fierce."

After finishing at UT, Adams began running Goodyear stores in Memphis,
with great success. He got into the restaurant business in the '70s,
left Goodyear in 1980 and finally got out of the restaurant business to
devote his time to his burgeoning property management company.

As a prominent UT booster, he was the subject of an NCAA investigation
in the '80s. Schledwitz served as his attorney and came up with a unique
defense. Because Adams was so generous to so many players from so many
different college programs, it could not be proven that he was exerting
influence for the benefit of any one school.

UT coaches and officials have long been wary of Adams, and Adams says
he stays uninvolved with the program to avoid any appearance of
impropriety.

"The only thing I have ever done is helped kids, and I don't care where
they go," Adams says.

Alabama fans, of course, have their own theories.

When Tennessee misses a field goal, Milton Kirk leans forward in the
big easy chair and exclaims: "(Darn), we needed that."

Kirk roots openly for the Vols. He knows how much Alabama fans despise
him, but he says he doesn't care.

Adams admits that Kirk's presence at his many parties creates a
potentially troubling image. Alabama fans have implied that Adams used
more than just words to encourage Kirk to tell his story to NCAA
investigators.

Adams is adamant that no such bribes ever took place, and defiant about
his ongoing friendship with Kirk.

"He will have a lasting influence for the good," Adams says. "Before he
went public, there was all this corruption. He should be remembered and
rewarded. No, I am not embarrassed to be with Milton Kirk."

Asked if he has ever given money to a recruit in an effort to steer him
to Tennessee, Adams says: "I never bought a player to go to the
University of Tennessee. I will put my hand on the Bible."

Adams knows that the insinuations made about him on the Internet and
elsewhere go beyond allegations of cheating.

Alabama fans regularly pepper their references to Adams with vulgar
epithets.

The upshot of the insinuations is that Adams is gay and that there must
be some ulterior motive for spending so much time with all those young
athletes over all those many years.

Even some of the pictures that Adams proudly displays, like the one
where he's sitting at a Key West restaurant with two current U of M
players, could raise eyebrows.

"I guess it's natural that people would say that," Adams says. "I don't
care. I am comfortable with who I am."

Adams points out that he is "dear friends" with lots of people who he
says would never condone a gay lifestyle.

Former and current U of M players like Idrees Bashir and Danny Wimprine
are "dear friends." So, too, are former Ole Miss players like DeWayne
Dotson and Cassius Ware, as is former Alabama standout Dewayne Rudd.

One of his closest friends is former Miami defensive tackle Cortez
Kennedy, a former NFL all-pro from Osceola, Ark. who often stays in an
upstairs room in Adams's house.

George Harper, a former U of M player, is a vice president for Adams's
property management company and also lives with Adams.

"College football players and college football coaches are some of the
most masculine members of society," Adams says. "Do you think they would
be around a situation with any gay (stuff) going on?"

Adams, who has never been married, loves to brag about trips he makes
to Platinum Plus, a strip club not far from his house.

"Many times the ladies from Platinum come over here during our
parties," Adams says.

This brings up yet another contradiction.

Adams is a loyal and dedicated fan of the Rev. Jerry Falwell. He
contributes money to him monthly -- much more than the $500 per year he
gives to Tennessee, Adams says -- and calls the framed picture of
himself and Falwell his "prized possession."

But Adams does not attend church, and his lifestyle is not exactly one
Falwell might approve.

"I believe he represents everything that is good and moral and right in
society," Adams says. "The teaching of the Lord is we all fall short. I
do not live up to and accomplish all that I would like to in my personal
life."

"But I say my prayers every night."

-- Zack McMillin: 529-2543
 

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