Now it's done

After months of hoopla, and anticipation, it's over: the last Canes game in the Orange Bowl.

Daughter #2 and I drove there in my yellow convertible yesterday afternoon, arriving about 4 pm. As we pulled up to our familiar corner of lot E2, we saw a group of folks in green t shirts. I thought it was an African American family mourning the early death of one of its members by gunfire --it seems that whenever a young Black person is shot, the T shirts with the victim's likeness appear within hours. No --it turns out that my friend Mike's father in law, a Cane great from the late 50s was being honored, and his OTHER son in law had the shirts made for the family to wear.

My partner handed me a tall plastic cup of his patented vodka juice, and it reminded me of the scene in "Animal House" where the fraternity brothers toss Bluto, played by John Belushi, a bottle of whiskey to soften the blow of seeing their beloved house taken apart. The vodka juice did the trick.

Old friends came by, and there was a lot of hugging and showing of "man love." I think after 3 of the vodka drinks I actually kissed 5 or 6 friends, on the cheek I hope.

I made Mike's sister Jeanine cry by reminiscing about her late father, my mentor as a lawyer and Cane fan.

Inside the stadium, I let the atmosphere wash over me. I looked up to the Upper Deck of the West endzone and imagined 2 undergraduate boys watching a Dolphins game with their fathers, now both dead. The game was in 1980 or 81, and it was a very cold December day. IT was the first and only football game my father went to, and we laughed all the way home about feeling so cold in Miami. I got misty eyed remembering.

Was there a football game played? Oh yeah --the Canes were awful, losing 48-0 in the worst shutout in their home playing history. IT was almost like the team was telling us that the stadium doesn't matter when you have either a great or bad team. Of course, for me, the stadium most certainly DOES matter --it's the place where some of my happiest memories were created. As Jim remarked, 15 years ago, it was a place where he had his most fun ever while wearing his pants.

Daughter #2 and I left in the 4th quarter. I had seen enough ghosts. She drove home --succesfully navigating through drunken pedestrians, and crazy drivers. She's nearly an adult. A symbol of my young adulthood is no more. Apparently the City's demolishing the place in March or April. Daughter #2 wants to watch it happen, so we'll probably make one last trip to that part of Little Havana.

It was a lovely evening, and a lovely way to say goodbye to an old friend.