My Daddy Was A Dawg

TuscaloosaDog wrote this some time ago, but it still brings tears to my eyes. I hope you all enjoy this as I have so many times.

The excitement wakes me earlier than normal. The attic fan is humming and both windows are open breathing the cool country air into my room covered with every dawg decoration Momma and Daddy had ever given me. Not soon enough Dad and I are in that huge blue Chrysler donned with two identical caps in the back window, red with a felt black G. Dad puts his hands on his shirt pocket to feel for the tickets one last time. By the time we get to Highway 78 I tune in 750 AM on the only digital radio any of my friends had ever seen, anticipating \"Dooley's Junk Yard Dogs\". It's a stream of Dawg fans headed to Athens as we sit at the intersection beside The Store; I knew we should have been on the road earlier.

I can see it in Dad's eyes that this is the day he's been waiting on all week. It had taken over his idle thoughts when he was looking for maps at the Tax Assessors office, bringing that half grin. I'm nine years old and Dad and I are where
we will forever be happiest. There are no thoughts of school grades; uncompleted chores or the dying land market. Every thought is on Jeff or Buck and what prize lay unclaimed - bragging rights against Allen, the only blood relative I've got who is a Tech fan.

Traffic stops as we get to the billboard with UGA on it and it's a crawl to downtown. We buy a program from a man dodging traffic and laugh at the guy who thinks we're capable of selling our tickets for some amount of money. We park in the alley off Jackson Street where Dad tells me for the millionth time that that is where he and Granddaddy always parked. I let out a \"Go Dawgs!\" and scramble over the back seat to get our caps. No binoculars or seat cushions.

We hastily walk to The Mayflower for fried chicken mashed potatoes and sweet tea while scanning the Athens newspaper to see the high school scores. Dad recalls his college days and tells again about when the Varsity was downtown and how his daddy loved it so. A lady with a crooked arm brings our food with a smile. Dad looks at his watch for the third time since we got in here and then pats his shirt pocket. Everybody in here's a dawg. We cross Broad with a throng of people, some in yellow. It's downhill to the Art Building where dad stops to go to the bathroom. The rush of the crowd down Jackson is getting heavier and faster.

There are people everywhere cleaning up barbecue grills, throwing the football and bragging on Erk Russell. Then dad, squeezing my hand tighter than before, strikes out again into the crowd. I bark at a man with a yellow pom-pom and dad grins approval. Down by the old dorms there is a bunch of college kids playing football and I think about Matt and I being here one day. Now, just past the dorms you can tell the stadium is filling up with noise. At the bottom of the stairs just outside the stadium I am squeezing dad's hand tight because I am just getting pushed along by the crowd and except for him I lose awareness of exactly where I am and which gate is ours. Except for him I'm lost and scared to death in this crowd of crazy people who are twice my size. Dad looks down and winks. There are all the beer cups so I know we're at the gate. Dad jokes about sitting on the railroad tracks this game and then from the crowded, loud corridor we push through to a bright opening by somebody's Cub Scout Leader.

I see the most beautiful site in the world. The grass is the greenest and the Dawgs are on the field warming up. It's the biggest place you have ever seen. My heart literally pounds. I know where I am because this is the third year I've
taken over Mom's seat by Dad. Section 107, Row 34, Seat 8 and 9. Everybody rubs my head and pats Dad on the shoulder as we make it down the aisle.

We're here and Dad is handed some boiled peanuts from his friend from South Georgia that he knew from Real Estate School. As I scout the crowd behind me picking out the regulars my nervous dad gets up to go to the bathroom,
again. He comes back with a Coke and the Redcoats take the field like wild. You can feel your chest vibrate when they hit the drums. Dad tries to calm my nerves with a squeeze on my knee and I exchange the gesture.

The National Anthem plays and I hurry to take my hat off before Dad so he'll see I remembered. We both sing. The huge crowd grows still as the prayer is offered and I look for someone disrespecting it so that I can point them out
to Dad and shake my head disdainfully. The Dawgs take the field to Glory! Glory! and I honestly fight back tears as I marvel the entire event. I lead the Gooooo. as the kicker fires the shot that starts the battle .Dawgs! Sic'em! Woof, Woof, Woof!, in rehearsed unison with Dad and most everybody else I know who are here somewhere.

That was the whole world for that moment. This was just the beginning for there were many wonderful afternoons with my dad in Athens to come. We always followed pretty much the same tradition and there was never a time that we were any closer than game day. It was like going off to battle together.

We made our last trip in 1997. It was the Ole Miss game. Dad had to stop and rest several times on the walk to the stadium and his balding head was an outward sign of the devastation that his body was undergoing from the chemotherapy. When we got to our seats - Sec 107 Row 34 Seat 8 and 9, we both wondered if this was the last time. It was.

Wow, that's moving.

My Mom and Dad graduated DAWGS, also! Tears are in my eyes, after reading this.. My Dad grew up in Watkinsville Mom in Atlanta and I grew up (or got older) in Atlanta. Every time I get to the campus on gameday,I still get a little teary eyed! Big reason why I make the trip from Tampa, each game!

Thanks Mom and Dad, for giving me the DAWGS!!!!

Miss_uga, that was very, very moving. That was extremely well-written. Thanx for posting it!

Dang miss_uga, I finally got around to reading this.....tearing up?....geez, I'm pretty close to losing it. Loved the story, thanks.