As a wide eyed nine-year-old I went to see Clemson play Maryland one cold wet Saturday in November of 1969. The water in the parking lot that day was ankle deep (no lie) before the game. I think Charlie Waters caught a touchdown pass that day. I remember the eyes of the scoreboard Tiger flashing on and off and his tail wagging after each score just like Dad said it would, and hearing that great fight song "Tiger Rag!" I remember shivering in a tunnel entrance during halftime eating the best hotdog I'd ever had. I think it rained the whole time. It was great! Final score: Clemson 40, Maryland 0. It was the last game Frank Howard coached in Death Valley. That day has always held a special place in my heart.
Through the years that followed Dad and I made it back only a couple of times, but we always pulled hard for our Tigers. We would watch the Frank Howard show on Sunday afternoons and Dad would tell me all about those great games and players before my time; bowls games here and bowl games there and how we won the Orange Bowl back in fifty-something.
I would sometimes get disgusted with the Tigers and want to just give up (especially when the chickens beat us), but Dad never would. He'd say in a flustered tone: "Son, we just don't have it this year."
Then we won it all in '81.
Dad was always a Tiger no matter what. Thanks, Dad, for so many memories, and especially for bringing me up a Tiger. He died in 1992. I started going to Clemson games on a regular basis in 1993. A few years later Mom started going to some games with me. She pulled just as hard for our Tigers as anybody. She was a real trooper. She even faithfully sat with me through that rain-soaked massacre called the '96 Gator Bowl. She died in 1998. I miss them both deeply. Both my sister and brother are also Tiger fans. They have attended games with me as well, some sweltering and some wet and bone-chilling. Neither I nor any of my family are Clemson grads so I guess we are all step-children in the Clemson family, but we all are Clemson people non-the-less. One thing I have learned is that once your blood runneth Orange there is no changing it. For that I am thankful.
Here I stand award from 
Pioneer award from
Through the years that followed Dad and I made it back only a couple of times, but we always pulled hard for our Tigers. We would watch the Frank Howard show on Sunday afternoons and Dad would tell me all about those great games and players before my time; bowls games here and bowl games there and how we won the Orange Bowl back in fifty-something.
I would sometimes get disgusted with the Tigers and want to just give up (especially when the chickens beat us), but Dad never would. He'd say in a flustered tone: "Son, we just don't have it this year."
Then we won it all in '81.
Dad was always a Tiger no matter what. Thanks, Dad, for so many memories, and especially for bringing me up a Tiger. He died in 1992. I started going to Clemson games on a regular basis in 1993. A few years later Mom started going to some games with me. She pulled just as hard for our Tigers as anybody. She was a real trooper. She even faithfully sat with me through that rain-soaked massacre called the '96 Gator Bowl. She died in 1998. I miss them both deeply. Both my sister and brother are also Tiger fans. They have attended games with me as well, some sweltering and some wet and bone-chilling. Neither I nor any of my family are Clemson grads so I guess we are all step-children in the Clemson family, but we all are Clemson people non-the-less. One thing I have learned is that once your blood runneth Orange there is no changing it. For that I am thankful.