For the love of the Gators

My family has always been huge Florida Gator fans. To the point of obsession. Growing up, Saturdays revolved around what time the Gators played football. When I got married, my dad and brother-in-law checked the schedule to make sure the ceremony didn’t conflict with the game time. At our huge 50 plus people Thanksgiving dinners, every vehicle had a Gator license plate, flags, and/or orange and blue pinstripes. Mom leaves the house during particularly competitive game- Terwillegers are not quiet people during football season. So that brings me to the story I love telling the most from my childhood….

When I was seven or eight, mom was away on a trip for the weekend so dad was juggling my brother, sister, and myself. We were in the car headed home discussing, of course, the Gators. And I, being a devious little instigator, informed dad that I was no longer going to be a Gator fan; I preferred the Georgia Bulldogs. (Just so you know, the Bulldogs are one of our biggest rivals. I truly believe dad would cheer for Satan himself over those lowdown Dawgs.) There was silence in the car after my statement. My brother and sister stared at me like I’d just grown three heads. Dad asked me quietly if I wanted to rephrase what I’d just said. Stubbornly, I refused. What could he do to me? Well, I found out. 

Dad didn’t yell. He didn’t argue with me. He just silently pulled the car over about a mile from our house and told me to get out. Yes, get out. If I wanted to make such poor life choices, I could just walk home from here and think about it the whole way. So I got out, totally in shock. And I walked that entire mile home…and never have I ever said I’d cheer for the Georgia Bulldogs again. I learned that lesson- don’t mess with a man and his football team. 

PS- Dad swears it was way less than a mile, that he drove slowly so he could see me the entire time, and that I shouldn’t upset my mother with my exaggerations. I beg to differ, but perspective is everything.