Fading Stripes: A South Carolina Grad Keeps Grandmother's Clemson In Mind
— -- The memory is fuzzy now, 26 years on. A mild winter night. A dark lawn. People pushing past us in orange sweaters and jackets and sweatshirts. My grandmother held my hand while her boyfriend, Billy, carried my little brother on his shoulders. From up there, Patrick had a better view of the scene: in front of Clemson University's Tillman Hall, a sea of light -- thousands of handheld candles lit in vigil. You would think someone had died, but no. It was worse: Football head coach Danny Ford had resigned.
Grandbunn -- a nickname from my grandmother's old '70s CB-radio handle, Cinnamon Bunn -- may have cried. She couldn't believe Clemson would get rid of Danny, a good ol' country boy who had taken the Tigers to their first national championship. Side-eyeing this scene, I was disgusted. A candlelight vigil for an alive-and-well football coach was one thing. This was the South, after all. But even at 8 years old, I knew better than to shed a tear for a Tiger.
Related Stories
ABC News Live