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I attended my first Bama football game with my father in 1968 ( I was 8 years old ). From that time on it became one of those special father-son rituals during the fall that few people other than the parties involved would ever understand. I attained a closeness to my father during those fall trips to Tuscaloosa ( or Birmingham ), that I might not ever have otherwise. Even after I became a teenager, and went through a rebellious phase...when my father and I could not seemingly talk about ANYTHING else, we could ALWAYS talk about Bama football. That common bond transcended any other disagreements we might have. We continued this father-son bonding ritual all the way through college into adulthood. Then, in 1990, in the early summer, my father came down with terminal stomach cancer. By the time the season started he was unable to attend any games. I simply could not face going to Bama games without my father, so I didn't go either. Then the week of the Auburn game, my father told me that he wanted to attend that one. By this time his body was ravaged by the cancer, and even moving was painfull, let alone walking. But he was determined to make that game, so after talking it over with my mother and other family members, I agreed to take him. My father had to muster up all his remaining energy to make that game. As we were sitting in the stands ( my father DEMANDED that he sit in his own seat ) watching the game, reality finally dawned on me. And that reality was that I was in all probability wathing my last Bama game with my father. As I pondered that, for the FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE, I didn't care one way or the other whether Bama won or not...and the expression on my fathers face told me that he felt the same way. Oh, we cheered whenever Bama did something good, but far and away the most important thing to each of us was the fact that we were watching this game TOGETHER. Winning and losing at that time meant absolutely NOTHING to either of us. As we were walking out of the stadium after the game with our arms around each other, my father looked me in the eye when we got back to the car and thanked me and told me that he loved me. I KNOW that I had never felt closer to my father as I did at that moment. My father passed away quietly is his sleep 10 days later. For several years after that it was very painfull for me to attend Bama games. I always felt that a part of me was missing when I went to a game without him. I think now that for the most part the pain is gone, and I'm simply left with years of precious memories, but I still miss him terribly. Sorry for the length of this post, it's just that at this time of year, on the eve of the start of the season, I always think about my father and how we would both be looking foward anxiously for that first game. I guess I just get a little emotional.
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