An LSU-Florida Game for The Ages

I cried when the Gators won the other night.  I’m sure it wasn’t the first time.  My school has won national championships in multiple sports and tears were likely shed back in ’96 and then again in ’06.  You never forget your first time.

But this time was different.

Our annual boys’ trip to Gainesville to see my alma mater play football took an unfortunate pause last year, for me at least.  My father, as it turned out, was a mere few days from losing his bout with cancer.  The guys, my friends of over thirty years, carried on without me, as they should have.  They toasted to us in my absence.

It’s been a long, emotional, soul-searching year for me, my first 365 since Dad left.  Birthdays and anniversaries, Father’s Day and places visited where he and I used to hang.  All firsts, all trying.  But this year, a year later, I would finally make it back up to see my boys, guys I needed to see, friends I hadn’t seen in far too long, who had traveled across the country to make this trip and who were eagerly awaiting my arrival.

This weekend was a big one for the Gators as well, the return of freshman superstar quarterback DJ Lagway to the starting lineup, America’s top recruit that the maligned and constantly criticized Florida coach Billy Napier hand-picked to lead the program back to prosperity.

Despite Napier’s lack of success since setting foot on campus, the administration had given him their vote of confidence assuring he wouldn’t become another coaching casualty, like so many of those who had been fired before they could land a full recruiting class: Zook, McElwain, Muschamp, Mullen.  The Florida crowd wants winners, and we get antsy when we don’t get them. 

Hosting ranked LSU in the Swamp would be a big deal.  With the administration’s blessing, Napier would get the chance to fire up his team without fear of losing his job.

And fired up they got.

The town, traditionally abuzz on game day, was even more so as everyone knew this game had the chance to be different, beating a ranked opponent and taking one big step towards putting the program back where it needed to be.

Which is exactly what happened.

Clearly not 100%, DJ Lagway played heroically.  His entire leg bandaged due to a hamstring that had him hamstrung, Lagway became the first freshman in school history to beat a ranked opponent in the Swamp.  The defense played lights out.  It was an entire team effort, as inspired a game as the team had played during Napier’s three years at Florida.

The Gators won 27-16.

But that’s not why I cried.  The tears ran much deeper than that.

Prior to leaving for my weekend excursion, I’d looked for an old Florida shirt of mine that I had given to my father, that he’d worn before he passed away.

It’s one of those comfy ’47 ones, orange shirt, blue font, nothing fancy other than the fact that my father and I had both shared it.

Yet, while packing, I couldn’t find it anywhere.  I looked in my drawers, multiple times, my spare bedroom where I keep a slew of once worn t-shirts, then back to my bedroom to look again.  I checked my closet, hanging, nothing.

I had half a mind to leave town without it until I looked in a large case of my father’s belongings, the very last place I’d looked, a container within which I keep some of his old writings, and there it was.  The shirt still smelled of the tea tree oil I’d place on his arms for healing and the cocoa butter I’d rub on his back to ease his pain.

I brought the t-shirt to my face and took a giant whiff, comforted that I’d finally found what I’d been looking for.

I threw it in my duffle bag and headed up for the weekend.

I wore it all day Saturday.  I didn’t tell my friends.  They understood that I’d spent the year hurting and healing.  There was really no sense in bringing it up.

We spent the entire day catching up, something we hadn’t done in far too long, talking about getting older, as we’re all in our fifties and sixties now, kids growing up, body aches getting more profound, retirement inching closer, the number of days we’d get to hang out and be silly together inevitably growing shorter. 

“This is great,” said Jorge, as he looked at all of us, cherishing the moment in words he could barely get out, the importance of our annual get-together evident in his smile.

We traversed the town, found all our old haunts and watched as our beloved Gators did something they hadn’t been able to do in a long time.  The feeling around town was different that day, a feeling like it used to feel.

And all the while, dad’s shirt kept me comforted.

The boys still don’t know, but they do now as they read this, why when the clock struck zero that I got so caught up in my emotions.  They remember why I couldn’t make it last year and why this year was so special to me.  Heavy D had just lost his mother.  One of my best friends of forty years, Steven, had recently lost both his parents.  I’d known them both well.  And I shared their pain.

We get all older, if we’re lucky, aging as gracefully and as healthfully as we can, and in the process, we lose some of the ones we love.

I don’t mean to say anything silly like Dad won us that game.  What I am saying is that I was there on that very special day.  And I know he was too. 

Gentlemen, I’ll see you next year, and as always, Go Gators!