Sideline Observations: The Time I Lost it During the Fiesta Bowl

Because I have had so many people ask what it was like to be shooting one of the most watched football games of the 2019 season, I figured I would tell everyone my most memorable moment. Believe it or not, it's not Trevor's touchdown or Travis Etienne spiking the football. It's the time I just lost it in front of thousands of people.

Because I have had so many people ask what it was like to be shooting one of the most watched football games of the 2019 season, I figured I would tell everyone my most memorable moment. Believe it or not, it's not Trevor's touchdown or Travis Etienne spiking the football. It's the time I just lost it in front of thousands of people.

I tell this story at the risk of sounding like an out-of-control emotional wreck. But I promise, that's not the norm for me.

It's not often I totally lose my composure. Aside from the few times my children drove me to the brink of insanity when they were little or when something horribly tragic happened in my family, I typically keep emotional outbursts well under control. But during the Fiesta Bowl, I lost it.

The week had already been an emotional one. Because of schedule changes in the timing of the playoff games this year, we had all just celebrated Christmas. The holiday season usually brings up as many memories as it creates, and many of them are emotionally charged. For reasons other than just Christmas, I had experienced quite a few highs and lows already before I flew out to Phoenix on Christmas night. 

It rained the two days I was in the Glendale/Scottsdale area prior to game day. Cold, windy, miserable rain. Game day brought sunny skies, thankfully, and with a couple days of mental prep I'd had since I got to Arizona, I felt ready to do my job. I knew the Tigers were going to be in for a battle, but I also knew they would be ready. We would all be ready. 

What I wasn't ready for was the huge wave of emotion that hit me right as the Tigers took the field moments before kick off. Not ready at all. Before you think I was just fan-girling in a horribly unprofessional way, a little back story is in order.

I attended my first Clemson bowl game in 1977- the Gator Bowl in Jacksonville, Florida. I was a child at the time, but the "bigness" of the moment was not lost on me mainly because I knew how big it was for my dad. He graduated from Clemson in 1963 and had followed Clemson sports his whole life. He was the first to graduate from college in his family, and coming from the small farming community of Level Land, SC, a college diploma was a big deal. His allegiance to Clemson never wavered, and one of his greatest legacies to me and my brother Mike was his passionate love for Clemson football.

We were indoctrinated in the ways of Clemson fandom by my dad who saw to it his family would be at home games from 1977 until 1989, the year I graduated from college. Even beyond that time, my dad would still attend games and held onto his season ticket seats until he passed. During those years, for me Clemson University came to be a place of comfort, excitement, and yes, too many times disappointment as well. More often than we wanted, we went to home games and left taking feelings of defeat with us. 

But there was one glorious year in 1981 when led by Coach Danny Ford, the Tigers won their very first National Championship title. They went undefeated in the regular season then won 22-15 against the Nebraska Cornhuskers in the Orange Bowl. My dad was elated, and Danny Ford remained his favorite coach long after he had resigned his position at Clemson University. 

Seasons came and went with not much for the Clemson faithful to get super excited about until Dabo Swinney was hired and began the slow, steady, unwavering installation of his vision for the way a college football program should operate.

My dad passed several years before the Swinney era. He never had an idea who Dabo Swinney was. Never saw CJ, Tajh, Sammy, Deshaun, Tee, Travis, or Trevor play. I have no doubt Christian Wilkins would have been a favorite, and I think he may have seen a bit of himself in Hunter Renfrow. Being undersized but very athletic in high school, my dad didn't hesitate to play every sport he possibly could. Oh yeah, Renfrow would have made him smile. 

And he would have loved Dabo Swinney. In fact, Dabo may have surpassed Ford as my dad's all time favorite Clemson football coach. 

There is no doubt had he been alive and healthy, my dad would have made it to see Clemson play in the State Farm Stadium to watch his Tigers take on one of his sworn football enemies, the Ohio State Buckeyes.

But he wasn't there. I was. And as I was on the sidelines getting into position to shoot my first images of Clemson run onto the field, without warning, I was choking back tears. Nearly sobbing, and hoping that no one was noticing. Honestly, who cries like a baby during Tiger Rag? Not me ... not ever. But there I was with a legion of Ohio State Fans behind me and a sea of Clemson orange across the field in front of me, and I was the emotional wreckage I try so hard to never be. All I could think about was my dad.

My dad, who didn't live to see me start a career as a professional photographer. My dad, who told me my entire life I could do anything I set my mind to. My dad whose smile would light up a room, especially when Mike or I were handed an award, or performing, or doing ... well ... anything remotely praiseworthy. My dad who had introduced me to this amazing sport, these fans, this Clemson legacy. And in those brief moments when I was trying to get myself back under control, I knew if he had been there, he would have been one of the happiest people in the stadium. Not because his Tigers were on the field but because his little girl was on the sidelines with camera in hand, living out her dreams. 

No, he wasn't there. Yet, he was. And like him, there were thousands not physically present who had also shared a love for Tiger football with someone in that stadium. Some may have been recent graduates, and some never saw Clemson win it's first National Championship over 30 years prior. Truth be told, for all of them it was never about a championship, really. There was something about those hills. Truly, something about those traditions, the family of fans, the pride of the Paw, and the battles young men would fight on a gridiron that was enough.  Enough to make sure the ones they loved would get to experience it all, too.   

 I don't intend to include falling apart as something I do before every game. But, I make no guarantees. Clemson will be playing for it's fourth National title on Monday night, which is still mind blowing to think about. And if you happen to spot me on the sidelines wiping an errant tear from my face, you'll know why. Who knows? Maybe you'll be losing it, too.