By nature, I am a planner. I keep a hefty to-do list while managing my
old-school calendar. I need that
deadline discipline. But then again, I
can be impulsive. That’s why I believe that
if it wasn’t for the last minute, some of the best things would never happen. Sept. 21 and the next two days are proof.
On
an impulse, I called Marcus Waters in Warner Robins. “Let’s go to the football game,” I said. “Remember, we beat Baxley 67-0 our senior
year. Let’s see what the Yellow Jackets
can do this year.”
In
1965, Marcus and Billy Cheshire were our quarterbacks. Marcus went on to play at East Tennessee
State. The Seminoles gave Billy a
Florida State scholarship. I got a free ride to the University of Georgia in
the back seat of my parents’ Buick.
Fifty-three
years after hanging up our Jesup High cleats, Marcus and I were sitting on the
50-yard line watching Jackets in black beat up on Baxley, 38-7. Two rows back was our team physician, 91-year-old
Dr. Lanier Harrell. Of those present, I
believe he would have the second-longest streak of attendance. In 1949, Doc started coaching with Ben Park.
He’s been an icon of loyalty ever since.
The
probable first-place attendance award goes to a fan who sat behind Doc. Born in April 1948, Patti Park was a tiny
baby when her mother, Frances, started bringing her to games. Patti’s husband,
Kenny Bryant, was on our 1965 team, too.
He and I were heavyweight guards, all 165 pounds each. During halftime, Kenny, Marcus and I had a
mini-reunion.
Maybe
it’s our ages. We might not recall what
we had for lunch last Friday. But with
the flip of a switch, we’re back remembering play-for-play the 1965 game
against Dublin’s Fighting Irish. The
year before, we had our hearts crushed in Laurens County. We were driving for the winning touchdown,
but a red-zone penalty pushed us back and into defeat.
Coaches
Clint Madray and Ben Park had us pumped, ready for revenge our senior
year. I remember trotting through Jaycee
Stadium’s gates. Pregame electricity
pulsed from both sets of stands. A fog
hovered over the turf, but it was gone by the time the final seconds clicked
off the scoreboard: Jesup, 12, and Dublin, 0.
Now
back to Saturday before last.
As
Marcus; our teammate, Larry Brannen; and I were gearing up for the
Georgia-Missouri kickoff, Marcus said, “I sure would like to see Harry Spell.” With that impulse, I dialed Harry, aka “Foots.” Within an hour, “Foots” was knocking on the
door. I can close my eyes and see
Harry’s red—size 15—shoes churning around the track in the mile-relay race.
Over slabs of
Alda Holland’s 10-layer chocolate cake, we kept an eye on the Bulldogs on TV,
but the chatter was about 1964’s Coffee County game. During halftime, Big Clint exploded over our
sloppy play. Roaring, he flung a cup of
Coke.
Splat!
It soaked the
back of Doc’s white shirt.
Oops!
But the Jackets
rediscovered their stingers. Paul “Jet”
Conner scooped up two second-half fumbles and lumbered to the end zone. Penalties nullified Jet’s touchdowns, but the
Jackets rode home winners.
Sunday
morning of our get-together was a winner, too.
Larry,
Marcus and I replayed our growing up in Jesup.
We may be 70ish, but only our memories are that old. As we drove away, I thought, “Here’s to
last-minute impulses. We couldn’t have planned this any better.”
dnesmith@cninewspapers.com
