Goodnight, Sweet Prince

As many of you may have heard, Turner Restaurant will be closing next week. As our pre and post game haunt for years, Turner will be sorely missed. In order to properly send off this treasure I have re-written a portion of "The Big Lebowski" script to honor this Marquette basketball landmark. Enjoy the send off after the jump and please leave your favorite Turner memories in the comments section.

They sit side by side, Crown and gingers on their knees, at the tiny bar at Rudy's. Warrior Brad bounces the fingertips of one hand off those of the other. They sit. They wait.

A thin man with Lego hair in a neatly tucked-in polo enters the room. He eyes Mr. Kensington's blue MU t-shirt and ratty MU hat and Warrior Brad's stocking cap and scarf, but doesn't make an issue of it.

ROBERTO CARLOS SANCHEZ
Hello, gentlemen. You are the bereaved?

MR. KENSINGTON
Yeah man.

ROBERTO CARLOS SANCHEZ
Roberto Carlos Sanchez. I don't believe we have formally met.

MR. KENSINGTON
Hunter Button

WARRIOR BRAD
Warrior Brad

MR. KENSINGTON
Mr. Kensington, actually. Is what, uh.

ROBERTO CARLOS SANCHEZ
Excuse me?

MR. KENSINGTON
Nothing.

ROBERTO CARLOS SANCHEZ
Yes. I understand you're taking away the remains of Turner Hall Restaurant.

WARRIOR BRAD
Yeah.

ROBERTO CARLOS SANCHEZ
We have the urn.

He nods through a door. An attractive young blonde in black hot pants with a low cut top enters to carefully deposit a large silver urn on the desktop.

ROBERTO CARLOS SANCHEZ
As discussed, you will need to settle your tab. And I assume this is credit card?

He is vaguely handing a black faux leather bill holder across the desk to whomever wants to take it.

WARRIOR BRAD
Yeah.

He takes it, opens it, pushes his stocking cap halfway up his head and inspects the bill with his head pulled back for focus and cocked for concentration. Silence. Mr. Kensington smiles at Roberto Carlos Sanchez. Roberto Carlos Sanchez gives back an uncomfortable barkeep's smile. At length Warrior Brad holds the bill towards Roberto Carlos Sanchez, pointing.

WARRIOR BRAD
What's this?

ROBERTO CARLOS SANCHEZ
That is the total for 4,000 Jager bombs, we had to estimate. It works out to 20 games a year for 10 years at the rate of 2 bombs a game for 10 people.

WARRIOR BRAD
Excuse me, we were told about a Jager bomb special.

ROBERTO CARLOS SANCHEZ
Yes, so we were informed. However, that special was offered by a rogue bartender who was terminated for a host of transgressions including drinking on the job, berating customers for stupid requests, and repeated one night stands with the impressionable college-aged help.

WARRIOR BRAD
This is $20,000!

ROBERTO CARLOS SANCHEZ
Yes sir. It is on of our more moderately priced cocktails. Makers Manhattans and crown and gingers come in a little higher.

MR. KENSINGTON
Well can we--

WARRIOR BRAD
Twenty thousand dollars!

ROBERTO CARLOS SANCHEZ
The cocktails range up to $10.

WARRIOR BRAD
Yeah, but we're--

MR. KENSINGTON
Can we just work off the tab in another one of your establishments?

ROBERTO CARLOS SANCHEZ
Sir, this is a business, not a work release program.

WARRIOR BRAD
But we need to scatter the fucking ashes.

MR. KENSINGTON
Warrior Brad--

WARRIOR BRAD
JUST BECAUSE WE'RE BEREAVED DOESN'T MEAN WE'RE SAPS!

ROBERTO CARLOS SANCHEZ
Sir, please lower your voice. We have people from Ozaukee County in here and they are nervous enough being downtown without your screaming.

MR. KENSINGTON
Hey man, don't you have something else we can do to settle this tab?

ROBERTO CARLOS SANCHEZ
The tab is the tab and it needs to be settled.

WARRIOR BRAD
GODDAMNIT! IS THERE A DISCOUNT LIQUOR AROUND HERE?!

MARQUETTE OLD GYM - EARLY MORNING

It is an urban setting, with a freeway, long bridge and Indian Casino in the background. Also, parked in the background is one lonely car, Warrior Brad's.

Warrior Brad is carrying a purple velvet pouch with a golden drawstring. When they reach the Old Gym the two men stand awkwardly for a beat. Finally:

WARRIOR BRAD
I'll say a few words.

Mr. Kensington clasps his hands in front of him. Warrior Brad clears his throat.

WARRIOR BRAD
Turner was a good bar, and a good friend. He was...He was one of us. He was a man who loved fish fries, and drinking, and as a Marquette fan explored the gyms of the Big East from Rosemont to Washington DC. And he was an avid drinker. And a good friend. He died--he died as so many of his generation, before his time. In your wisdom you took him, Lord. As you took so many bright flowering bars such as Hegarty's, the Avalanche, Glocca Morra, Brown Bottle and Big Shots. He witnessed many high highs, such as Novak's shot over that Staten Island toker, Dwyane Wade's career, the Three Amigos and Novak's performance for the ages against UConn. He was also their for the low lows, multiple Louisville games, the Bob Dukiet era, losses to Tulane and the Dom James injury. These bars gave their lives. And Turner too. Turner who...who loved Marquette basketball.

Warrior Brad clears his throat.

WARRIOR BRAD
And so, McGuire Bo Hank Butch Buzz Turner, in accordance with what we think your dying wishes might well have been, we commit your mortal remains to the bosom of...

Warrior Brad is opening the purple pouch.

WARRIOR BRAD
the Old Gym, which you loved so well.

As he shakes out the ashes:

WARRIOR BRAD
Goodnight, sweet prince.

The wind has blown all of the ashes into Mr. Kensington, standing just to the side of and behind Warrior Brad. Mr. Kensington stands, frozen. Finished eulogizing, Warrior Brad looks back.

WARRIOR BRAD
Shit, I'm sorry Mr. Kensington.

He starts brushing off Mr. Kensington with his hands.

WARRIOR BRAD
Goddamn wind.

Heretofore motionless, Mr. Kensington finally explodes, slapping Warrior Brad's hands away.

MR. KENSINGTON
Goddamnit Warrior Brad! You fucking asshole!

WARRIOR BRAD
Mr. Kensington! Mr. Kensington, I'm sorry!

Mr. Kensington is near tears.

MR. KENSINGTON
You make everything a fucking travesty!

WARRIOR BRAD
Mr. Kensington, I'm--it was an accident!

Mr. Kensington gives Warrior Brad a furious shove.

MR. KENSINGTON
What about that shit about Louisville!

WARRIOR BRAD
Mr. Kensington, I'm sorry--

MR. KENSINGTON
What the fuck do Rick Pitino, Reece Gaines and transition lens have to do with anything! What the fuck were you talking about?!

Warrior Brad for the first time is genuinely distressed, almost lost.

WARRIOR BRAD
Shit Mr. Kensington, I'm sorry--

MR. KENSINGTON
You're a fuck, Warrior Brad!

He gives Warrior Brad a weaker shove. Warrior Brad seems dazed, then wraps his arms around Mr. Kensington.

WARRIOR BRAD
Awww, fuck it Mr. Kensington. Let's go watch the 2003 Regional Final.

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