Super Bowl Twist

Atlanta advanced to the final rounds for Super Bowl 1998, and as a football family from Georgia, we were purdy pumped! Thing is, that same year was the season Brandon would advance from high school to college. In other words, he’d graduate spring of ’99. And, just as the Falcons were in the midst of capturing the NFC Championship—we were hopping from one college campus to another for Brandon’s official visits. College football recruiting season was wide open!

We often missed the NFL Sunday games leading-up to the Super Bowl, either from driving or flying back to Georgia. But the weekend the Super Bowl played, our schedule slapped us smack-dab in New Orleans for the Tulane University visit. After all, his brother Bryson was already there playing for the Green Wave, why not take the little bro too? But by the time Brandon’s recruiting season began, Tommy Bowden’s season at Tulane, was over.

Bryson signs autograph for young Tulane fan

Clemson made Bowden an offer he couldn’t refuse, so he took the head coaching job for the Tigars.  The crew who put the Green Wave on top packed-up and headed for higher ground. That coaching switch left a huge hole. To top it off, the replacements for Bowden’s crew were in the shady character catalog. They did not hold the high esteem of committed Christian like Coach Bowden did. I saw that for myself, up front and very personal. The difference was utterly brusque!

As our visit with Tulane came to a close that Sunday, we were anxious to get to the N.O. airport, catch our plane, head home and watch maybe the last half of the Super Bowl. Garsh by golly, the Falcons were breaking a record too, and we didn’t want to miss out! Teeing-up for a Super Bowl? First time in franchise history!  

Our priority that afternoon? Wishing our plane left on time! If anyone has ever departed from the N.O. airport on time, I’d love to hear from you. We never did. And, we flew in and out of N.O. often. Bryson played as a true freshman so we attended most every home game. But this time, our delay had nothing to do with the N.O. airport and everything to do with severe storms in Atlanta! We were grounded indefinitely before we ever boarded. The three of us, (Gary, Brandon and I) stuck at the N.O. airport, like a chunk of chewed bubble gum on the sole of your shoe. Now if we were lucky, we might catch the last quarter of the 2ad biggest game of the year. For us, the Liberty Bowl ranked #1! Naturally.

Disgusted and disappointed we sat-down at our designated gate, near the end of the corridor. Silence. Complete silence between us. Finally in the distance, I heard a faint familiar sound. It sounded like a bunch of bees buzzing. I followed my perked-up ears back toward the middle of the airport. Right there staring me straight-on was an open expanse of a bar lounge area. Front and center, suspended behind the bar, a huge television set blaring out an extremely familiar sound. It was the Super Bowl game! Yippee-ki-yay! The bar in the airport would solve our problem! It was the first time I ever thought a bar just might be a saving grace.

Brandon sporting a Tulane jersey with his high school number

I went running back down the corridor to fetch the fellas. “Hey guys, game’s on!” Brandon followed me, Gar stayed at our gate to make sure we wouldn’t miss our flight, if and when they announced our departure time.

Brandon and I took a seat in the back of the lounge area and quickly eyed the scoreboard. Denver was ahead 17-0 in the first quarter. Bummer!

A waitress soon came and asked how old Brandon was and what drinks we wanted to order. I smiled sheepishly and shook my head, “Oh no honey, we just want to see the game.” She indicated that we could not be there unless I ordered a drink. “Oh, ok then, we’ll have Coke-cola’s with a twist of lemon—actually make mine a Shirley Temple and his, a Roy Rodgers.” She said it had to have alcohol in it. “You’re kidding, right?” Well, indeed she was not kidding. She asked us to get up. These seats are reserved for those interested in adult drinks. Seriously?

Honestly, the lounge area had maybe four or five people in it at the most, with plenty of empty chairs. I imagined everyone in their right mind was at home, at a Super Bowl party, or either in Miami watching the game live. We got up and walked out to the floor tile area and stood, still in view of the game on the bar TV. No longer in the bar lounge, or on the carpet. This bar lounge had no doors—it had three open sides to the mall or middle areas of the airport, the divide was the carpet for the lounge area, and the tile for the airport area.

Did somebody call security? Apparently they did. One security policeman soon came on the scene. A rather short fellow with a big bouncy belly and a bald head told me we had to move. I tried to explain to him that we were from Atlanta, wanted to see as much of the Super Bowl game as possible because our flight had been delayed, and that my son just visited Tulane, he may play football for them, and that we meant no harm and moved out of the bar area as asked. “Sir, I do not drink and I don’t intend to start now. I ordered Colas.” He got quite burly with me and spouted off something about arresting me.

I gotta say, by that time—big mistake! We had not offended anyone or given him cause for his outrage. At that point my heels smoldered to a fire and honey, I dug in! I thought we just might play the Super Bowl twist right then and there. A twist of strong-wills!! This guy was just itching to throw his weight around. Well, he picked the wrong lady!

He grabbed my arm, I jerked it away and said, “Hey, what’s that?” peering my eyes behind him. He twisted around so fast that his belly needed time to catch up with his chest. Once he turned back around, I didn’t move a mussel and stared him down with daggers so sharp I could have chipped ice with my eyes. I towered over this dude and dared him to touch me again. Somebody wake me up! Surely this is just a bad dream.

I then reached into my purse to get pen and paper. I was going to write down his name and badge number. But, by the time I looked up again, he had turned his badge over so I could not get his information. I’m sure he realized he was really in the wrong and did not want this reported to his superiors.

He told Brandon to get out of here and take his mama with him. Brandon, the ever present force, never said a word up to this point or left my side. He responded, “Sir, she is my Mom and I’m not taking her anywhere.” I was just dumb-founded. I couldn’t believe it escalated to this and I was sober as a preacher passing the collection plate! Gee, what do they do with the drunks?

Finally, out of respect and protection for Brandon I backed-off and bowed-out. I know Brandon would have, could have, taken him, but in the end, who are we!?? We are not the kind of people who go around physically fighting or bullying other people!! I sure didn’t want Brandon to literally fight this ding-bat-dude. We’d never been in a situation like that before, or since, and who I cared about was Brandon.

Law, have mercy! Sometimes ya feel like you’ve just got to stand your ground, especially when the opposing person is apparently, brainless or compensating for some childhood complex which is, in the end, even more reason to back-off. He just didn’t have the capability to do his job in a suitable manner. We all know who really has the stronger will!!

This incident is the most laughable thing that ever happened to us on any recruiting trip! To this day we still chuckle over “Mama’s smack-down, Super Bowl Twist in New Orleans!”

In all seriousness folks, for those of you flying in to New Orleans for this Super Sunday—beware! That poor ol security policeman with the big bouncy belly and baled head just might be lookin’ for all those non-alcoholic drinkers in the bar. Ya sure don’t wanta find out how to implement the Super Bowl Twist and miss the real thing!

There's No "I" in Teamwork!

With heavy heartfelt thoughts and prayers concerning the disaster of Isaac, I figured now is as good a time as any to discuss “teamwork.” After messy Isaac rip roars its nasty head through land, it will take hours of teamwork to clean and repair the clutter. It will also take a team of folks to roll out at a moment’s notice to help others to safety. From first responders to firefighters, medics, police, 911 operators, sheriffs, national guard, neighbors, family and friends to nurses, doctors, hospital staff and all those in between, good people along the gulf coast have geared up for action and are in the thick of it right now.

However, I see no I’s in that crowd. What I see are teams of folks who are willing to put their lives on the line to save the lives of others. No glory, name in lights or headlines, just a lot of guts from those people who aren’t afraid to plunge into perilous situations for the good of others. I believe our military personnel, here and abroad epitomize the word, “teamwork.”

Dictionary.com defines teamwork this way:

team•work  [teem-wurk]
noun
1. cooperative or coordinated effort on the part of a group of persons acting together as a team or in the interests of a common cause.
2. work done with a team.


In other words, a joint effort to obtain, capture, create or achieve a common goal or purpose with no one individual, but a group of individuals working together.


As a football mama, I can only name a hand full of sports that truly define teamwork in unequal but remarkably similar ways to public service personnel or military folks. Football, of course, is one of them. Can you name any others? In football it takes all 11 men executing the game plan. But think for a minute about the entire concept of an offensive linemen’s job.

O-Lineman takes the majority of pounding and the brunt of contact hits on every down in order to protect his quarterback, thus moving the ball out of the pocket to increase yardage. Hopefully, that yardage is in the right direction, if the OL does his job! But, it doesn’t stop there. The QB has to be doing his job too and then so do the guys who carry the ball. Execution = Effectiveness of a team. Teamwork.

Yet, can you name one OL in the NFL, or on the college level? But, I bet we can all name at least one quarterback on either level. The sportscasters will mention the five guys up front usually during action. And they might call their names out in the lineup for offense before a commercial break. Still, these guys personify the teamwork message, taking the hits so the other guys get the glory. Ask any offensive linemen if he cares that he is not singled out the way running backs or wide receivers are and his answer may shock you. He doesn’t. He isn’t out to seek glory or hot-dog. The psyche of an O-Lineman strikes me as the essences of a man’s unselfish heart and character. Teamwork.

Alec Baldwin’s character as Lt. Colonel J. Doolittle in the movie “Pearl Harbor” said, “There’s nothing stronger than the heart of a volunteer.” How true! It took men and women in uniform who volunteered with an unselfish heart to achieve unimaginable triumphs in WWII or in other conflicts and wars that we as a country have endured. I see no I’s in any of their stories. Teamwork.

Astronaut Neil Armstrong is another example of a “no I” guy. What a great American! He took no credit for what he did. The man was the first to step on the moon and he gave all the credit to his fellow teammates, including the folks on the ground in the space program. That’s the very heart of teamwork.

So, maybe at the end of the day, teamwork is best described as an unselfish act or action taken by individuals for the greater good. That sounds like some purdy amazing men and women and yes, football’s offensive linemen! But one more group of people that cannot be over looked in the teamwork category is Mom’s. Most moms know a thing or two about sacrifice, unselfishness and teamwork. Yes, we could learn a lot about teamwork, with no I-formation, from these America’s heroes and football and moms!