Plain Speaking

Honoring My Father
On His Special Day

Father’s Day is upon us again and it’s the perfect time to reflect on what our fathers mean to us.

In reality, we shouldn’t wait for the calendar to tell us to be thankful for our fathers. All situations are different, but I am one of the fortunate ones to have grown up with a positive male influence in my life.

Paul Bridges, while short in stature, has always stood tall in my mind. He stands tall when it comes to working hard, being able to solve any problem that arises and for passing on a passion for sports to his oldest son.

I remember attending my first college football game with him during the 1970s. The University of Georgia was playing LSU that fall afternoon at Sanford Stadium. I recall the crowd, the game, the band, the fans, the entire atmosphere. I was immediately hooked on college football.

I remember celebrating with my father when the Bulldogs won the national championship following the 1980 season with a win against Notre Dame in the Sugar Bowl.

I remember a father consoling his then 10-year-old son the following year when Georgia lost to Pittsburgh in the final seconds.

I remember traveling across the state to watch my high school football team compete. Many times a childhood friend or two would be along for the ride and even then I knew what a special moment it was.

I remember playing hoops with my father in our backyard on a homemade concrete slab he had poured just for that purpose. Numerous games of horse were played on that court.

I remember my father coaching me in Little League baseball. I also remember receiving no favoritism from him just because I was his son. It’s something many fathers could learn how to do today.

I remember my father always being at my high school basketball games, home and away, despite having to leave the house for work long before the sun came up.

I remember watching college football games on a fuzzy, UHF station with my father. Many times the picture wasn’t great, but you could usually hear the announcers and it never really mattered that the game featured teams from states I still have never been to.

I remember having the joy of dove hunting passed on from my father. Those opening days of the season each year were something I looked forward to for months. It’s a time I still miss.

I remember my father not understanding why I spent so much time watching pro ‘rassling as a teenager and openly saying he couldn’t stand the “sport.” I also remember him seriously saying in disbelief, “How could he have won the title?!” when The Honky Tonk Man defeated Ricky Steamboat for the Intercontinental Title in 1987 during a Saturday morning wrestling show.

I remember attending Atlanta Braves and Atlanta Falcons games with my father. While Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium was torn down years ago, I still remember it with fond recollections and the many games we witnessed in the old ballpark.

I laugh when I remember my dad taking our Little League baseball team to an Atlanta Braves game one year many moons ago. Our team, the Red Sox, was even honored with a listing on the outfield scoreboard. Unfortunately, some of the lights needed replacing so it simply said “Welcome Red So”.

So here’s to you Dad. Thanks for the support of my sports journalism career and for always offering sound advice whenever I need it.

Monticello native Chris Bridges is a reporter and columnist for Mainstreet Newspapers located in Jefferson for which this column was originally written. His father, Paul Bridges, has been a resident of Jasper County since the 1960s. Comments about this column can be e-mailed to chris@mainstreetnews.com.