|
LEWIS
GRIZZARD REMEMBERED
From
The Atlanta Journal and Constitution September 24, 1984
Great
moments in a would be father's life
To
my Son, if I ever have one:
Kid,
I am writing this on September 3, 1984. I have just returned from
Athens, where I spent Saturday watching the University of Georgia,
your old dad's alma matter, play football against Clemson.
While
the events of the day were still fresh on my mind, I wanted to
recount them so if you are ever born, you can read this and
perhaps be able to share one of the great moments in your father's
life.
Saturday
was a wonderful day on the Georgia campus.
We
are talking blue, cloudless sky, a gentle breeze and a temperature
suggesting summer's end and autumn's approach.
I
said the blessing before we had lunch. I thanked the Lord for
three things: fried chicken, potato salad and for the fact he had
allowed me the privilege of being a Bulldog.
"And
, Dear Lord," I prayed, "bless all those not as
fortunate as I."
Imagine
my son, 82,000 people, most whom were garbed in red,
gathered together gazing down on a lush valley of hedge and grass
where soon historic sporting combat would be launched.
Clemson
was ranked number 2 in the nation, and Georgia, feared too young
to compete with the veterans from beyond the river, could only
dream, the smart money said, of emerging three hours hence
victorious.
They
had us 20-6 at the half, son. A man sitting in front of me said,
"I just hope we don't get embarrassed."
My
boy, I had never seen such a thing as came to pass in the second
half. Todd Williams threw one long and high, and Herman Archie
caught it in the end zone, and it was now 20-13.
Georgia
got the ball again and scored again, and it was now 20-20, and my
mouth was dry, and my hands were shaking, and this Clemson fan who
had been running his mouth the whole ballgame suddenly shut his
fat face.
Son,
we got ahead 23-20, and the ground trembled and shook, and many
were taken by fainting spells.
Clemson's
kicker, Donald Igwebuike, tied it 23-23 and this sacred place
became the center of the universe.
Only
seconds were left when Georgia's kicker, Kevin Butler, stood
poised in concentration. The ball rushed toward him, and it was
placed upon the tee a heartbeat before his right foot launched it
heavenward.
A
lifetime later, the officials threw their arms aloft. From 60
yards away, Kevin Butler had been true, and Georgia led and would
win 26-23.
I
hugged perfect strangers and kissed a fat lady on the mouth. Grown
men wept. Lightening flashed. Thunder rolled. Stars fell, and joy
swept through, fetched by a hurricane of unleashed emotions.
When
Georgia beat Alabama 18-17 in 1965, it was a staggering
victory. When we came back against Georgia Tech and won 29-28
in1978, the Chapel bell rang all night. When we beat Florida 26-21
in the last seconds in 1980, we called it a miracle. And when we
beat Notre Dame 17-10 in the Sugar Bowl that same year for the
national championship, a woman pulled up her skirt and showed the
world the Bulldog she had sewn on he underbritches.
But
Saturday may have been even better than any of those.
Saturday
in Athens was a religious experience.
I
give this to you, son. Read it and re-read it, and keep it next to
your heart. And when people want to know how you wound up with the
name "Kevin" let them read it, and then they will know.
|
