A Cold Day

Walking up steps to board the plane, one cannot help but appreciate a beautiful autumn day in North Central Florida. The bright sun in a clear blue sky causes me to squint as I brush my hair back into place with my hand. A faint hint of burning leaves is detectable in the cool, crisp air. Moments later, the cabin door to the jet is closing. Looking out from the window seat, a virtual sea of pines washes below, eventually giving way to rolling hills and the Atlanta airport.

Was it 2 drinks or 3? Little is noteworthy in an airport bar, even less so the connecting flight. Before I know it, the wheels are touching down and I’m in a line of passengers trudging up the walkway.  In the days long before 9/11 and enhanced security, good friends can still meet you at the gate area. It is a cool, comfortable Friday evening in Lexington, as instructions are given to the babysitter and we head out for dinner. Later, we elect to go out for drinks and dancing. About 1am we leave the club and, to our surprise, discover an unexpected, thin layer of wet snow on the car. The air is noticeably colder. Tomorrow is supposed to be nicer.

With an original forecast of partly cloudy skies and temperatures near 50 at kickoff, the pending Gators vs. Wildcats game should be unremarkable. The game itself stirs little in the way of great emotion. Although a road game, UF hasn’t lost to the ‘Cats since Pell’s 0-10-1 debut in 1979. Commonwealth Stadium is still an open-ended structure with bleachers in the end zones, and seats 50-something thousand. It isn’t nearly full today, as my friend finds parking within sight of the stadium.

Meteorologists, I think, are somewhat like offensive linemen …. they only receive attention when something goes wrong. The weathermen in Lexington are receiving LOTS of attention today. The skies are overcast with absolutely no sunshine. The winds are blowing steadily at 25 mph and gusting higher. There is light precipitation and it is cold. Damned cold. Temperature at kickoff is 33 degrees ….. and dropping fast.

The game itself is an unremarkable, low-scoring affair. The more important issue is the heaters hanging from the bathroom ceilings inside the stadium. Nobody wants to leave the men’s room, an ever-growing congregation of Orange & Blue faithful huddled in some of the most valuable real estate in the Bluegrass State that afternoon.

I can’t tell you who made the plays to seal the game as the Gators lose by a score of 10-3. The Big Blue Nation is ecstatic while Gator Nation is melancholy. There is no mass rushing of the field, however. Those of us leaving the stadium are merely grateful to be getting out of the miserable conditions, regardless of our loyalties.  I am convinced that part of me is still frozen to that aluminum seat.  Dinner is a mixture of great steaks and humble pie. UK fans cheer loudly when, still wearing my UF colors, I stand at the door and tell the room that they simply kicked our butts ….. good game.

Sometime the next day, I am aboard another Eastern Airlines jet heading back to Gainesville. The airline would cease to exist within a couple of years. The year is 1986, and for the next 20 seasons, the Wildcats will not taste victory against the Gators on the gridiron.