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re: Share some of your experiences you had with your father
Posted on 10/20/11 at 5:10 pm to Hammond Tiger Fan
Posted on 10/20/11 at 5:10 pm to Hammond Tiger Fan
quote:
Share some of your experiences you had with your father
while watching LSU sporting events
By far the best was in 1972 at the Ole Miss game. I was just a kid then, and we sat in the southeast corner upper deck, just above the visitors' section.
After Bert Jones threw the TD pass on the final play to pull out a 17-16 win, we walked down to the fence to look down at the Ole Miss fans. Just below us was a guy who was bawling his eyes out, sobbing "I can't believe it" and other such things. He had two or three friends around him trying to console him, and it took them several minutes to get him calmed down. Just when he had regained his composure, I looked up at my father and asked...
"Can I tell him 'Go to Hell Ole Miss'?"
My dad said "yes, you sure can!"
I did, and the guy totally lost it again, sobbing and crying like a baby. My dad and I laughed our asses off at him.
I know they're not much of a rival to us any more, since they fell off the map a few decades ago, but I still hate them with every fiber of my being. There's no doubt where I got it.
Posted on 10/20/11 at 5:14 pm to Tiger Ryno
quote:
Bmath...I am your Father
Weird
Posted on 10/20/11 at 5:15 pm to ElEsYouTigahs
Hmmm.... a lot of weird shite here, compared to my experience, in my opinion. We've had season tickets since 1982. We started in USEZ, now on east side. We went to most home games together between then and 2004, along with assorted family members... SO's, brothers, sisters, etc.
Since I moved away in 2004, we typically meet up for a game or two in BR, and at least 1 road game.
This year, we went to UO, and are going to Tuscaloosa. I also plan on attending the BCSNCG which LSU will be in, in New Orleans. We attended '03 and '07 NCG's, as well. He rolls as hard as I do, and drinks hard and yells all game.
This year before the UO game, we were in a bar in Dallas, near the stadium which had a lot of ducks in it. He stood up on a chair, and divided the room in 2. He made half the room "duck" and half the room "gumbo" then proceeded to start a chant similar to the "geaux" .... "tigers" cheer and response with the "duck" and "gumbo". The whole while I had my duck call, whailing away a mallard hail call.
I could come up with as many stories as games. He'd tiger bait your grandmother.
Since I moved away in 2004, we typically meet up for a game or two in BR, and at least 1 road game.
This year, we went to UO, and are going to Tuscaloosa. I also plan on attending the BCSNCG which LSU will be in, in New Orleans. We attended '03 and '07 NCG's, as well. He rolls as hard as I do, and drinks hard and yells all game.
This year before the UO game, we were in a bar in Dallas, near the stadium which had a lot of ducks in it. He stood up on a chair, and divided the room in 2. He made half the room "duck" and half the room "gumbo" then proceeded to start a chant similar to the "geaux" .... "tigers" cheer and response with the "duck" and "gumbo". The whole while I had my duck call, whailing away a mallard hail call.
I could come up with as many stories as games. He'd tiger bait your grandmother.
Posted on 10/20/11 at 5:15 pm to Hammond Tiger Fan
Damn, I feel pretty good about my dad/parents after reading this thread. Holy crap.
One memory I have was during the Bluegrass Miracle...the game is almost over, and my father and I are lamenting LSU's situation. The conversation went like this:
Me: Well, we're screwed now. No way we win the West after this.
Dad: Yep. No chance
Bluegrass Miracle happens...
Dad and I start screaming, wake up my infant daughter who's terrified and starts crying...this pisses off my wife.
Dad (calmly and quietly to me): I think we got a good shot at the West.
Me: Yep. Gotta like our chances.
One memory I have was during the Bluegrass Miracle...the game is almost over, and my father and I are lamenting LSU's situation. The conversation went like this:
Me: Well, we're screwed now. No way we win the West after this.
Dad: Yep. No chance
Bluegrass Miracle happens...
Dad and I start screaming, wake up my infant daughter who's terrified and starts crying...this pisses off my wife.
Dad (calmly and quietly to me): I think we got a good shot at the West.
Me: Yep. Gotta like our chances.
Posted on 10/20/11 at 5:23 pm to lake chuck fan
My dad walked out on my mom with two little girls-- I was maybe two, my sister just a year--when he got the 16 year old babysitter pregnant. Never fooled with us. I tried to call him when I was in college, thinking he might be open to a relationship since I was 18 and he didn't have to go through my mom. I wished him Merry Christmas over the phone, and he hung up on me when I identified myself. He has 11 season tickets to LSU games and is a huge LSU fan. That's the only thing we have in common--I hope.
Posted on 10/20/11 at 5:25 pm to Bmath
My dad was a life long tiger fan and bled P&G. He was a Union Iron worker and worked his tail off, but we didn't get to attend very many games when I was a kid. He did manage to get me and him to one game a year. I remember getting to go see LSU v UF in the late 80's, not even sure of the year anymore (Archers first year maybe?) but I can remember the game and talking to him during it like it was yesterday.
So to the story, as he got older he developed cancer in his throat from asbestos exposure, and mesothelioma(sp?). He was strong as an ox at 75 but didnt have the ability to walk long distances because of his breath. So I got tickets to see LSU and Arky State in 2004. We all knew his time was short and I took the first tickets I could afford to try and return the favor. Me and the wife brought him to what would be his last game in Death Valley. I knew it would be hard on him and we made every effort to keep the walking o a minimum but it was still a choir. By the end of the 3rd quarter I could tell he was struggling so we got set to leave. He had to stop for oxygen on the way out and I started to feel like crap for putting him through that all to feel good about myself. I guess he could see it on my face as we sat on a bench near Mike's cage. He looks at me and said I wouldn't want to be anywhere else than Death Valley on a Saturday night. One of my lasting memories as he passed away on Christmas Eve of that year.
So to the story, as he got older he developed cancer in his throat from asbestos exposure, and mesothelioma(sp?). He was strong as an ox at 75 but didnt have the ability to walk long distances because of his breath. So I got tickets to see LSU and Arky State in 2004. We all knew his time was short and I took the first tickets I could afford to try and return the favor. Me and the wife brought him to what would be his last game in Death Valley. I knew it would be hard on him and we made every effort to keep the walking o a minimum but it was still a choir. By the end of the 3rd quarter I could tell he was struggling so we got set to leave. He had to stop for oxygen on the way out and I started to feel like crap for putting him through that all to feel good about myself. I guess he could see it on my face as we sat on a bench near Mike's cage. He looks at me and said I wouldn't want to be anywhere else than Death Valley on a Saturday night. One of my lasting memories as he passed away on Christmas Eve of that year.
This post was edited on 10/20/11 at 5:26 pm
Posted on 10/20/11 at 5:33 pm to pitbull20
Great story; Did we win??
Posted on 10/20/11 at 5:53 pm to Hammond Tiger Fan
quote:
Share some of your experiences you had with your father
Not a lot of time for sports but did catch at leas part of a few games on the radio.
It's time to put hay out , feed the chickens, eat supper (dinner) get your homework a bath then to bed. Got to get up early tend to the chickens and cows before breakfast and school.
Posted on 10/20/11 at 7:59 pm to Ipreciateu2
lol yeah it was a touch one sided.
Posted on 10/20/11 at 8:08 pm to Hammond Tiger Fan
saw shaq, CJ, and Stanley play with my dad in the P-mac.
Posted on 10/20/11 at 8:26 pm to Nuts4LSU
To many to list.
My Dad helped run a concession stand in Tiger Stadium from 68-the mid 70's. Me and my buddy would always go and only had to help fill cups at half time. They would usually sell out before the end of the game so we would usually catch the end of the game from the field after counting the money.
We were standing in the south end zone for Jones to Davis in 1972.
He later got season tickets and we were there sitting together for Hodson to Fuller in 88.
All that but the best might have been when he took me to most of the Basketball games during the Maravich era. we stayed late more than once to meet Pete and get his autograph.
Some years later I attempted to repay him by booking a trip for him, myslef and my brother to Vegas to see Shaq and the Tigers take on UNLV.
Great times
Thanks Dad
My Dad helped run a concession stand in Tiger Stadium from 68-the mid 70's. Me and my buddy would always go and only had to help fill cups at half time. They would usually sell out before the end of the game so we would usually catch the end of the game from the field after counting the money.
We were standing in the south end zone for Jones to Davis in 1972.
He later got season tickets and we were there sitting together for Hodson to Fuller in 88.
All that but the best might have been when he took me to most of the Basketball games during the Maravich era. we stayed late more than once to meet Pete and get his autograph.
Some years later I attempted to repay him by booking a trip for him, myslef and my brother to Vegas to see Shaq and the Tigers take on UNLV.
Great times
Thanks Dad
Posted on 10/20/11 at 8:31 pm to Kajungee
I still recall bits of my first LSU game vs. FLA when I was 4 years old. Father graduated LSU but died at 38 years old. He named me after Billy Cannon. I was in Louisiana last week and put purple and yellow flowers on his grave for him. Life with him would have been incredible. I'll see him again some day.
Posted on 10/20/11 at 8:38 pm to Bayou
My Dad worked at LSU and told me one night to come with him to the Cow Palace, walking distance from our home. We did, the smell from the rodeos was there and the basketball court was on the dirt. He said, "Son, I was told there is some kid from out of state and is here to play as a freshman against the Alumni and is pretty good"...it was Pete Maravich and it was magical...
Posted on 10/20/11 at 9:26 pm to Hammond Tiger Fan
I like to think that my father gave me the gift of Tiger football, though not in the conventional manner.
I was raised a thousand miles from Baton Rouge, in a place where Billy Cannon's run never echoed on the airwaves. Purple and gold heralded only a visit from the Minnesota Vikings. I was expected to follow in my father's footsteps and attend a small liberal arts college. Perhaps that is even what my father wanted, though he would never burden me with his own hopes. But my dad also knew me in that way unique to fathers and the sons they make. He saw this prematurely somber young man needed some leavening, some lightening, an era of abandon, a few loyal friends, maybe the affections of those mystical southern girls, so he encouraged me to seek out a very different undergraduate experience at LSU.
He drove me to spring testing, fourteen hours in a beaten Toyota: the father driving, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in rhythm with time, the sullen son staring out the window, watching the miles unspool. We stayed at Pleasant Hall. When the pencils were down and the tests were over, he took my arm and told me he wanted to show me something. We walked through a landscape of heat and ruddled tile and sagging oaks as alien to me then as it is familiar now. I can't even tell you the route we took, but we emerged at last in the shadow of Tiger Stadium, beneath that sheer concrete cliff with its dingy colonnade. At that age, I was habitually jaded, unimpressed with everything as only a naive sixteen year old can be, but there was no denying the immovable power of that towering bowl. For reasons I never knew, a gate along the east side hung open. We walked right in, trotted down a side tunnel, and approached the chain link fence that encircled the unlined field. We stood for a moment and just marvelled as the sun poured down onto that infinite space. My dad smiled and raised his arm, pointing at the "Welcome to Death Valley" sign that adorned the western stands. Our shadows were long and lean. The light glinted on the metal bleachers. It was quiet and warm. No sound but my breathing, a father and son shoulder to shoulder, dwarfed by immensity of that place. My father smiles and points, points the way, and I stand beside him, with the whole damned glory of my youth stretching out ahead of me.
Thanks dad.
(P.S. I really enjoyed everyone's stories in this thread.)
I was raised a thousand miles from Baton Rouge, in a place where Billy Cannon's run never echoed on the airwaves. Purple and gold heralded only a visit from the Minnesota Vikings. I was expected to follow in my father's footsteps and attend a small liberal arts college. Perhaps that is even what my father wanted, though he would never burden me with his own hopes. But my dad also knew me in that way unique to fathers and the sons they make. He saw this prematurely somber young man needed some leavening, some lightening, an era of abandon, a few loyal friends, maybe the affections of those mystical southern girls, so he encouraged me to seek out a very different undergraduate experience at LSU.
He drove me to spring testing, fourteen hours in a beaten Toyota: the father driving, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in rhythm with time, the sullen son staring out the window, watching the miles unspool. We stayed at Pleasant Hall. When the pencils were down and the tests were over, he took my arm and told me he wanted to show me something. We walked through a landscape of heat and ruddled tile and sagging oaks as alien to me then as it is familiar now. I can't even tell you the route we took, but we emerged at last in the shadow of Tiger Stadium, beneath that sheer concrete cliff with its dingy colonnade. At that age, I was habitually jaded, unimpressed with everything as only a naive sixteen year old can be, but there was no denying the immovable power of that towering bowl. For reasons I never knew, a gate along the east side hung open. We walked right in, trotted down a side tunnel, and approached the chain link fence that encircled the unlined field. We stood for a moment and just marvelled as the sun poured down onto that infinite space. My dad smiled and raised his arm, pointing at the "Welcome to Death Valley" sign that adorned the western stands. Our shadows were long and lean. The light glinted on the metal bleachers. It was quiet and warm. No sound but my breathing, a father and son shoulder to shoulder, dwarfed by immensity of that place. My father smiles and points, points the way, and I stand beside him, with the whole damned glory of my youth stretching out ahead of me.
Thanks dad.
(P.S. I really enjoyed everyone's stories in this thread.)
This post was edited on 10/20/11 at 11:04 pm
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