CHINSTRAPS & HEROES, A FAREWELL TO JIMMY: I wasn’t expecting to cry today. I especially wasn’t planning on one of those heaving cries that convulses down to the gut. I’d already been a little emotional in dreading next week, a week that holds days that took my dad & a coach I think a great deal of. And this morning, I find out my first sports hero passed last night. That’s him, Jimmy Fuller, on the far right, celebrating the Crimson Tide’s 1967 Sugar Bowl victory. He’s the kind of hero that comes from little small southern towns where ones high school football allegiance qualifies as a denomination. His legend grew as he moved from playing for Coach Lutz’s Tigers at Clements Field to 5 miles away for a man called Bear at Legion Field. He was the kind of hero that little sports crazed boys attach themselves to like cold attaches to ice. This hero was different than most, he was tangible. He was a student of my dad’s & occasionally was found on my living room couch. One of two great thrills of my life came the day he picked me up from kindergarten. He lived across the street from the school on Avenue I. My mom couldn’t make pickup time & asked him to get me. I remember the thrill when my teacher leaned over my table to tell me the news. My male classmates didn’t know the term “give up my left one” yet, but they knew the emotion. Every one of them wanted to be me at that moment. The other thrill came as my mom picked me up. He gave me the pictured chinstrap. I imagine my feeling was the same as a new Cardinal being handed his vestments by the Pope. That strap adorned every helmet I wore until 9th grade, it was a strap my dad carefully adjusted to fit & buckled just so as I began my gridiron trip. Jimmy went on to a fine career in coaching & sports administration. As a coach, he led Jacksonville State to the Division 2 finals in 1977. One of the rare times I saw my dad tear up as the Gamecocks fell 33-0. After his nomadic coaching journey, he settled back at JSU as the athletic director. In that role, he graciously escorted my boys on his sideline as his team visited our hometown Mocs & when we met pregame & he hugged my neck, I was 5 years old again. It’s nice when those you lift up don’t let you down. Today, Jimmy & my dad are probably mad that I’m blubbering & writing through the mist of my tears. I’m sure while my dad’s giving a tour of the golden streets, he’s given Jimmy an elbow & complaining that my rough draft & final draft are one & the same. They’re probably both saying “buckle that chinstrap, there’s still a game to.play today”. Rest in Peace, Jimmy & thanks for being what a hero should be & thank you for the chinstrap. Time to buckle up…