What A Ride to the Edge of Glory

A few years ago, I posted a blog entitled Edge of Glory.  My beloved Tigers were in the midst of a promising season....about to face Florida State.  I had this feeling it was our time, but things did not pan out that year.  Flash forward to 2015.  All season that phrase and, I'm ashamed to admit, that Gaga song popped in and out of my mind....Edge of Glory.  I wanted to post a second blog on the subject, but my superstitions got the best of me, and I waited.

I waited as all year we were doubted, all year sold short.  The underestimaters were out in force...for every test, every big game.  But The Orange persevered.  Notre Dame in a sunami, Florida State in weather almost as bad..... through the Division Championship, "State Championship,"  Conference Championship, and the Orange Bowl, these Tigers pressed on like David slaying Goliath.... again and again.

It was time for a National Championship trip to Arizona.  I knew I shouldn't go, but I couldn't stay away.  I was there following the '81 season to see another young, overlooked, underestimated Tiger team take a national championship.  I couldn't not be there when it happened again.

Those who know me know it's always all about the moments.  And there were definitely crazy moments...Di and I arriving in Phoenix nearly forgetting we had checked bags.  Had our brother-in-law not remarked about how well and surprisingly light we were traveling, two sisters would have walked right out of the airport without our luggage.  Pre-game jitters, I guess.  And the luggage...my goodness, we packed for cold, we packed for warm, we packed for cool...honestly we could have stayed in Phoenix for a month and had all the clothes we needed, no matter the weather.

Speaking of staying a month, a first intro to Desert Donuts had me wishing we could.  I think in three days, we made about four runs to the local DD.  One bite of a bacon donut, and it was over for me.... and for my hips and thighs.

Walking the even if temporarily orange dotted streets of Scottsdale's Arts and Shopping area, stopping to greet horses and ogle cacti, and eat the self proclaimed 'best sandwich in America', it continued to seem as if we had stepped into some surreal spaghetti western dream.  But it was real. The Tigers were on a business trip, and so were we.  Note to self:  check with accountant about writing off.....

Game day arrived and with it all the nervousness.... the rolling tummies, the biting nails, the silly chatter.... two sisters and their niece, Tiger Girls lying in bed watching Gameday.  We were anxious to start the day but anxious about the outcome as well.  There were key wardrobe decisions (sadly as usual, Di and I had packed several of the same outfits, so that took a little coordination moderated deftly by Niece Hannah), face painting, margaritas (when in Arizona, right?), clapping along to Tiger Rag being piped in to a local bar and singing Sweet Caroline along with hundreds of other Tiger faithful following their team.  Note:  Not sure if the look on our niece's beautiful face was horror, shock or something else as Diane and I joined with great gusto in a boisterous group sing of The Captain and Tenille's "Love Will Keep Us Together."  How could Hannah not know that one "....Think of me, Babe, whenever"....Oh well.  It was craziness of the best kind.

The epic game has been well documented.  Again, it's the moments within I'll most remember.....seeing at least two thirds of the "neutral" stadium decked out in orange, hearing the deafening cadence count...at an away, indeed far away game, watching a young Houdini in Orange slice through the vaunted Bama defense over and over and over again, runs of sheer determination from the Wayne Train, enduring a no pun intended 'kick in the gut' of an Alabama on sides kick, hearing forty thousand proud Clemson fans still cadence counting as they exited with the loss, having come oh so close to that natty championship, seeing two Heisman finalists share the field in competition and even more an after game hug filled with oh so obvious mutual respect, our exhausted team still lifting helmets to salute the amazing road crowd that had followed this team...to the edge of glory.

What a ride...what an amazing ride.

Hope it's nowhere close to 35 years before I am back....

A Southwest Selfie Saga

                                                            

Selfies.... the craze that has changed the face (pretty clever, Dee) of photography.  So why is it that I....camera geek that I am.....just cannot get the hang of it?

I would say in my lifetime I may have taken...well, maybe half a dozen selfies.  A couple at least were accidental selfies.  Yes, accidental.  Who knew if I hit that camera button a second time my phone lens was suddenly, magically facing in instead of out.  Imagine my surprise when more than once, I pointed and shot my phone camera at some desired subject only to review the photo and find I had a beyond horrendous shot of myself.  Happy to report I now I understand that part.  Fool me once.... you know the rest.

Many times during Clemson's remarkable 2015 season, I wanted a selfie or two of my sisters and me as we made this incredibly magical journey with our Tigers.  I wanted to document our nerves, our joy, our determination to share some of the incredible twists and turns of following our team as sisters.  And a selfie...it can't be that hard.  Everybody does it.  Game after game, we would stand, in perfect unison turn our backs to the field, hold the phone up (as I have read usually should provide the most flattering angle) and smile the Tiger Girl smile....only to preview the most gosh awful selfie ever.   Sometimes, or should I more accurately say usually, at least one of us wasn't even in the shot.   And usually after three or four failed selfie attempts we could glance up into the stands to see a friendly, okay usually laughing face...connected to a shoulder.... to an extended arm.... reaching down for my phone sympathetically offering to take the photo for us.  A pity picture....but alas there was no choice.  I am a selfie failure.

Oddly Diane, who rarely if ever takes photos, is suddenly a selfie expert.  How does that happen? Photography may be the very one thing in life I am better at than she, and if not better then definitely more experienced.  So, Sunday in Arizona, as Di, Hannah and I took out on our Great Southwestern shopping expedition, the selfie spirit moved me.  I decided it was time to try again.  I refuse to let this shortcoming get the best of me.   With Diane driving, Hannah in back and I in the front passenger seat, I pulled out the trusty iPhone, ready to try again.  It's a car selfie....  I see dozens posted on facebook every day. Even my five year old "Baby Hoppa" can take a selfie.  So, with a determined deep breath, I held up the phone, made sure Hannah and I were both in the pic and clicked.....only to have both Hannah and Di burst into uncontrollable laughter.  "Why can't you look here...don't look at the home button...look at the camera lens...your eyes are always almost closed..what is the matter with you......hold the camera up....no down....are you thinking too much..." Well, imagine that.... who can possibly remember all these instructions? And their last correction..... may I quickly insert that at this point I was ready throw my phone and possibly my middle sibling out the window of our rental SUV..... "look natural."  Really?  This isn't that hard.  And yet, I couldn't argue the point.  This selfie was simply not acceptable.  All I can think is how much I truly miss my Nikon dinosaur. I actually pulled my favorite Nik out at one of this year's tailgates only to hear a fellow and much younger tailgater exclaim, "What the heck is that?"  Stand down, Young Whippersnapper.  I'll match my photos from a camera that requires at least a modicum of skill against the point and clickers from your phone any day!

Fast forward to Championship Monday and the game, and I, well I was still determined to get the perfect selfie. Fourth quarter....final game of the season.  It was now or never.  Pressure was ON. Diane and I stand....in unison turning our backs to the field (and by the way at that point to a Tiger lead).  I raise my right arm, lift the phone, say a quick prayer for a successful selfie (don't judge; my minister says to pray about all things), woops.... almost drop the phone, recover nicely, look at the lens....correct spot...check, click.  Preview....positively terrible.  Try again.  Again the worst.  And suddenly there she was...three rows up....the laughing but trying to hide it Good Samaritan Lady Tiger Fan...holding her hand out...gesturing and snapping for the phone.  And suddenly, thanks to that nice woman, we had our prize picture.  Another glance back, a quick thank you wave up to the laughing lady who saved the day.  Wait....didn't we see you in Raleigh?