Growing Up “Bama”

I had just turned seven years old barely a month before the game occurred making me old enough to understand what was going on, but not quite old enough to understand the reactions of those around me. The game in question was the 1973 version of the “Game of the Century”. A matchup between a pair of unbeatens in the Notre Dame Fighting Irish and the Crimson Tide of Alabama. It took place on New Years Eve adding to the holiday festivities. I was surrounded by family as I watched what to me, was just another football game, but to those around me seemed like so much more.

There wasn’t room on any of the furniture for us kids so I lay on floor with my brothers and several cousins scattered around me. Meanwhile my Dad and several uncles lounged around us occasionally bolting upright to the edge of their seats. I remember being mystified as to the looks on their faces as the game went back and forth on the scoreboard. Of course I was well aware that everyone in the room was cheering for Alabama. I just wasn’t quite old enough yet to understand the passion that these grown men felt regarding their team.

The room absolutely erupted when Alabama took a one point lead early in the fourth quarter. There were high fives all around the room as well as a hug or two. I can even remember my Mom, who to this day still couldn’t tell you a thing about the game of football other than the fact Alabama plays it, poking her head into the room and rolling her eyes at all the grown men jumping around like kids. By that point in the game I had also gotten caught up in the excitement and for probably the first time in my young life had an emotional investment in who was going to win a football game.

The danger of highs though is having to come back down to earth. I can remember that happening quickly when the Tide’s Bill Davis missed the extra point. To this day I can recall my Uncle Ed collapsing back into his chair and saying, “That’s going to come back and bite us.” At the time I can remember thinking “Surely not, Alabama will still win it.”

He couldn’t have been more right though. The Irish drove down field and kicked what turned out to be a game winning 19 yard field goal to give the them a 24-23 lead. Everyone in the room was disgusted. Despite that they all still believed Alabama would win the game. It wasn’t meant to be though. You could feel the air go out of the room minutes later when the Bama defense was unable to keep the Irish offense from converting a key third and long allowing them to run out the game clock.

Even though they lost that night I became obsessed with Alabama football. We lived out of state so it wasn’t always easy back then to keep up with my team. There was usually only one game televised on Saturdays and if it wasn’t your team you were stuck with either listening to the game on the radio, if you were lucky enough to be able to find it, or scanning the dial for score updates. I can remember many a Saturday afternoon spent sitting in my room listening to Alabama play through the static of a barely audible AM radio broadcast. If the atmosphere was just right I’d be able to hear the game on a radio station out of Columbus, Georgia that carried the Alabama radio broadcast.

Listening to John Forney call those games with Doug Layton doing color was magical for me. I could often picture in my mind what was happening as Forney’s call of the game faded in and out of the static. It would probably seem like torture hardly worth enduring to todays “digital” generation but for me it was a lifeline to be held on to for all it was worth.

Being lucky to grow up in the 70’s allowed me to witness a golden age of Alabama football. There wasn’t a fall Saturday that went by that I didn’t expect to see the Bear lead his boys to a victory. It didn’t matter who they were facing, the Tide was expected to win the game, at least in my mind. I’ll admit to becoming quite spoiled by it all. Of course the negative side to that was it made the 80’s all that much harder to handle.

Though the downslide had already started by then, I still marked it in my mind as happening that winter day of my sophomore year of high school when I climbed into a friends car after school and turned on the radio to hear that Coach Bryant had died. Back then I was of the mind that “real men don’t cry”, but I’ll admit to shedding a tear or two that afternoon after hearing the news

As I got older and the 70’s became the 80’s, technology began to make things a bit easier for us college football fanatics. First the advent of ESPN made it so much easier to keep up with scores. Secondly, more games began being broadcast. Still not the cornucopia of football we get these days but a step in the right direction. Lastly was my Dad springing for a satellite dish. Not one of the tiny ones you find today of course. One of those big 15 footers that looked like you were trying to contact people in outer space. With it he was able to get a small box that enabled us to pick up any radio broadcast that was being beamed by satellite. Fortunately for me that included the Alabama football radio network.

Never again did I have to deal with static as the broadcast was crystal clear. Unfortunately the product on the field wasn’t nearly the same quality it had been. Ray Perkins had given way to Bill Curry by the time I was finally grown. That of course, was an experience unto itself, nearly opposite of the feeling Alabama had felt toward their coach when the Bear was alive.

We had an older couple that were long time neighbors. They were Georgia fans and he would constantly give me a hard time about being an Alabama fan. Particularly after UGA had their run with Herschel. The night of the 85 Alabama/Georgia game they had a large group of people over to watch the game. Shortly after Shula hit Al Bell on that post route to give the Tide the winning TD, I was standing in our driveway and spotted the neighbor coming out of his house with his friends. I couldn’t resist and yelled across, “How bout them dawgs.” He smiled over at me and shook his head then turned to his company and said, “He can’t help it, he grew up Bama.”

Since then I’ve been fortunate enough to raise three boys of my own and yes they were raised “Bama.” Being able to experience taking each of them to their first game in Bryant Denny stadium was a thrill I’ll always cherish. Watching their eyes as they soaked in the Quad and all the tailgaters and vendors was priceless as was the look of awe the first time they actually got to take in the field from inside the stadium.

Though I would have thought it was impossible at the time. My boys have also been able to witness a revival so to speak, of the golden age of Alabama football. This one has the potential to be every bit as successful as the last, if not better.

If I’m lucky, I hope to live long enough to experience the same thing with a grandchild. There’s a lot of good things you can share with your kids as they grow up and to me the easiest to pass on was my love for Alabama football. For awhile they may get to old to feel comfortable telling you they love you, but they’ll never shy away from giving you a good Roll Tide!