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Taking Names and Keeping Score
My first thoughts were about the period from 1985 to 1991 when my sons were playing football for Thomasville and we made the trips to Grove Hill to play the annual game against the Bulldogs. Then I went considerably further back reflecting on the 1960's when the Thomasville teams I played on made the trip to the County seat to play our arch rivals. In both cases remembering those times brought a smile to my face but a sense of melancholy over me at the same time. I guess the smile that quietly spread across my face came from remembering how special those times were in those two important stages of my life. The sadness on the other hand came from knowing no matter how much I might want to experience those times again they are gone forever except in my memory. If that weren't enough for one evening, the magic time machine guiding my thoughts took me back even further to the days when my brother and I as elementary and junior high boys found ourselves on that same sideline working as managers for the Thomasville Tiger teams our father "The Coach" brought to Grove Hill to play the Bulldogs. I remembered how we looked upon those guys wearing the Maroon and Gray as our heroes and how we longed for the day when we would be putting on that same gear and trotting onto that field to write our names m the history books of Thomasville Tiger football. I remembered how all of them, even the smallest, appeared to be somewhat of a giant to us. I could still remember how the loving relationship between a father and his two sons became all business on those Friday nights as we were expected to do our part in keeping the Tigers supplied with plenty of water during time outs and finding replacement chin straps and other paraphernalia when "The Coach" asked for it. I remembered how even in our first year in the manager role because of our father's teachings and being around the sport as much as we could, we understood that there were times when we needed to be seen and not heard and other times when we needed to be out of sight completely. I also remembered how it was during those years that my brother and I fully realized for the first time that we weren't our father's only sons. The more we were around our father "The Coach" when he was working with his football players whether it was at practice, during the games, at school or in other settings out in the community the more we realized that the care and concern and unconditional love he felt for us was much like what he felt for all those young men who played for him as well. In essence we felt like we had hundreds of brothers. I remembered how, despite that realization, I never felt jealousy toward them but instead a kindred spirit, because I was totally secure in my father's relationship with me and understood although they were a significant part of his life they would never replace me and my brother. With the time for the opening kick fast approaching there was one more stop the time machine had for me and it wasn't in the past but instead was in the present. It was at that final stop that it came clear to me why I had taken this trip down memory lane. This stadium and field which has literally seen thousands of young men cross its surface through the years of its existence, is a tie that binds three generations of my family together. As such it will always hold a special place in my memory and those of my sons. Who knows, one day it might count four generations of my family among its number. Until next time......................be safe!
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