No, this has nothing to do with fishing. But it’s something I needed to write. My Dad, Ronald Walker, was born January 28, 1947 and passed away two years ago this February. My brother placed this memorial on his gravesite not long after the game. God bless you, Dad. Roll Tide.

Ronald Walker's tombstone.

Memories – especially those clouded by years and circumstances past – eventually fade, leaving more of a feeling in their place than the specifics of the event. But there are a few, a precious few, that stick with you as if they happened yesterday.

One of my earliest, and clearest, memories is of flying through the air…

It was 1970-something, and Alabama was in the middle of one of the greatest decade-long displays of brilliance ever displayed on the college field. It was a time when all fans just knew Bama was going to win every game – the only question was by how much.

The details of that particular game on that particular Saturday afternoon have long faded. I have no idea who we were playing, nor what the score eventually was. I do know it was post Johnny ‘Italian Stallion’ Musso and before the Goal Line Stand against Penn State in 1979, but a lot of the rest of it is gone.

What’s crystal clear to me, though, is my dad.

We were watching the game in the small living room of our 3 bedroom home in Theodore, Alabama – tacky 70’s wood paneling covering half the wall, and carpet that looked like an epileptic nightmare of tan, brown and black. Something big had happened and my Uncle Sonny – who may as well have been a second father to me, as much time as our two families spent with each other – picked me up in his exuberance, kissed me square on the face, and launched me across the room.

I remember that celebratory feeling that something really good had just happened. I remember us all erupting in joy…how loud my Uncle Sonny’s ROLL TIDE yell was…the whoops and hollers I could hear from the kitchen…how happy I was, surrounded by everyone there.

But the clearest vision I have, the one that stands out as if it were happening right now, this very instant, is my Dad catching me.

Two arms that seemed, to me, as big as tree trunks, snatching me out of the air with hands strong and hard as steel. Before I ever felt even the tug of gravity pulling me back to Earth, he lifted me up toward the ceiling, hands just under my arms, and looked up. Right at me.

He had on a Bama T-shirt – white, with a crimson A on it… an elephant coming through the opening – and his mustached face had just a little grizzle on it from not shaving that morning. His face shined with happiness. His smile big as I’d ever seen it. And his eyes practically GLOWED.

My Dad’s eyes sparkled all the time. I don’t know if I’ve ever told anyone that, but they did.

It couldn’t have happened for more than a moment, a brief couple of seconds in the middle of mayhem all around me, but it seemed like forever. There was nothing else. For this moment, anyway, it was just me and him.

I don’t remember being put down from that embrace, probably because I don’t ever want to. I’ll always remember my father just like that. Strong… good lord, he was strong. Steady. 10 feet tall and bulletproof. And smiling, with those sparkling eyes shining on me.

On January 7th of this year, Alabama laid claim to its 13th National Championship. I watched the game with my own family, and celebrated long after the clock read zeroes and the scoreboard told the tale. I called friends and relatives, and jabbered back and forth with people at work. I put the stickers on the truck and stayed up long past the end of the game, taping every Sportscenter and news outlet I could find on the season.

Then, late that evening, I found a quiet place and remembered a game a long time ago. One where I wasn’t alone with the hero of my life, but one where we shared a moment together. And I thought, even though it’s not high on the priority list up there, this one is for you, Dad.

I love you, Dad. I miss you. Roll Tide….

PS Maybe it’s corny to you – dedicating a silly football game to someone past. But for our family, Bama football has always been a big part of life. Dad was the biggest Bama fan I’ve ever known, and we spent almost every fall Saturday together, watching and listening to Bama play. He loved it, and I loved being a part of it with him.

Matt