After we scored the go ahead touchdown Coach Phillip's wife, Leslie; my Mom, and I starting screaming: "WE… BELIEVE! WE…. BELIEVE!" About 30 rows of fans in front of us turned around as our whole box started chanting it; "WE!! BELIEVE!!" (Let me tell you we were LOUD! Well, of course, I was particularly loud!) Of course, they all stood there staring at us like we were crazy instead of joining in. No kidding, rows and rows of people staring blankly at us as we screamed our guts out. (Actually, they may have been looking at us like we were nuts.) Just a thought, but next time it would be nice for more people to join in.
I envisioned an entire stadium chanting. One side: "WE!" Other side: "BELIEVE!" It would have sent chills down anyone's spine. Can we work on that Kentucky?
Maybe we are a little crazy, cause moments before I had been sobbing uncontrollably on the telephone while trying to tell my sister we had scored to take the lead. (She was at a function at my niece's high school in Oregon.) When I was finally able to get it across that we had scored, I heard her crying, too.
Too much time left on the clock. I thought I might pop a vein in my head. I was screaming as loud as I could, while tears poured down my cheeks. I kept saying to myself: "You can't take this away from us! You can't!"
Then it happened. We took the ball away from them ending any doubt that we would win the game. A few guys started screaming back at me: "We Believe! We BELIEVE!"
Again I was on the phone trying to relay to my sister that Trevard Lindley had just intercepted the ball and we had won. Again, I was sobbing so much my sister couldn't make sense of my hysterics. I wanted this game more than anything. I wanted the Wildcats to win a game they were not expected to win. To stop the criticism of the program by fans who had said we hadn't won any games that meant anything. This game meant something. This was Georgia, and no matter what the nay-sayers say; you can't take the glory of that win away from us. You can't take that moment away from the fans who were there trying desperately to get that goal post down, or from the players who were trying to wave the fans to come onto the field.
You can't take that moment away from a guy named Paul, who called a friend of mine to tell him he was on the field picking blades of grass from the field and putting them in his pocket. Paul wanted to share how great the moment was when the goal posts came down around him. Paul had a moment that he will treasure for his lifetime.
As we danced to the music and watched the fans struggling to get the posts down, we enjoyed the moment, too. It was awesome. It isn't for anyone to debate whether it was a signature win or not, or whether the fans should have taken the goal posts down. It was a once in a lifetime moment. I am so thankful I was there to experience it. The football team and the fans deserved a celebration of that magnitude. Try as you will, you cannot take that wonderful experience away from any of us who were there.
As we celebrated Saturday night, the focus quickly turned to how tough the upcoming game was going to be. Then the superstitious side of us all began to surface as my Uncle said he had been there for the last two wins, and everyone decided he needed to come back for Vanderbilt. (Come on, haven't you had a winning pair of socks, or underwear?) Sure enough, my Uncle Wayne went back to California and booked a ticket to come back this weekend to continue his winning streak with the team. (We hope.)
Vanderbilt is not a team to take lightly, they are a good solid team, and scare me a little. Kentucky is going to have to be on the top of their game to get it done. I will be working the San Diego Chargers game in Cincinnati on Sunday, so I am trying to figure out how I can get done with set up work on Saturday and maybe get to the game by the second half. Hmmm. I am 1-0 myself. I really need to see about getting to the game. Seeing my deserving father get a satisfying win last weekend makes me want to see more of that. There are some things in life that are so valuable you can't express them. Hugging my father after the game (Yes, with the tears streaming down my cheeks… again.) was something that no one can take away from me. I will remember that moment forever.
Dear Dad, Thanks for all your hard work. I am so happy that I was there to share that win with you. You actually got air at the end of the game. I couldn't have been more proud of you than at that very moment. Uh oh, here come the tears again. Let's beat Vanderbilt so that others can begin to see that your hard work and dedication DO pay off. I love you, Kerri