Bobby Bowden Has Tested Positive For Covid-19 At The Age of 90: Fuck
Fuck, man. This one stings. Let me clear something up though. I was never really in on coronavirus but hearing a legend and an all-around good guy like Bobby caught it really sucks. A few weeks ago, I had that chance to interview him. We talked about covid and how he would handle it as a coach. In a non-spoiler alert, Coach Bowden is on the older side of things so I'm sure he and his family are extremely worried.
However, knowing that your legacy is set and that your reputation means so much to so many would end up greasing the skids of your latter years. Goes without saying that I hope Coach Bowden beats it like he did Nebraska in the 1993 Orange Bowl. When he pulls through, we will all need to celebrate with a cup of what Coach Bowden calls "that juice." To everyone else, it's Gatorade. I know that he'll refuse that juice if a nurse tries to give him some to hydrate while he's in their care. That's what a man of integrity does and Bobby is certainly that.
Here's what I said a few weeks ago about Bowden and you can listen to the interview here.
Growing up a kid in Florida, I was either gonna be a Florida State or UF fan. No one from there is really a Miami fan so there was two options.
My entire family was and is HUGE gator fans. Hell, I’d be surprised if at least one uncle and two cousins weren’t wearing a Tim Tebow jersey right now. I obviously picked Florida State.
Speaking to Coach Bowden was a.... :::looks around::: Seminole seminal moment for a few reasons.
One: I watched every moment I possibly could of Florida State football and Bobby Bowden is the star on top of FSU’s Christmas tree. I would love to tell my 12-year-old self- who was watching with baited breath the final plays of Orange Bowl in 1994 -that one day I’d interview Bowden on my national radio show and we’d re-live those nail-biting last 5 minutes together.
Two: my grandfather. I’m gonna get a touch serious now so if that hurts your overly masculine heart, stop reading.
My grandfather was a southern baptist pastor for 50+ years. He was a southern man from a tiny town called Midway, Florida. If you haven’t heard of that, it’s near Mayo, Florida. What? You haven’t heard of Mayo? Fine. It’s near Lake City and Tallahassee.
Anyway, my Papa’s diction and cadence-of-speech were fiery in the pulpit and equally as calm out of it. When he wasn’t on a quest to do God’s work, he was a fantastic grandfather which may as well been just another part of God’s work. My grandfather took me to Florida State games, fed me boiled peanuts, loaded his boat to take me fishing in alligator-invested water after I had hunted enough worms for the trip. I’m a great worm hunter.
Anyway, my Papa died in 2006 while I was at Camp Pendleton conducting pre-deployment training before heading to Fallujah. Some of my largest regrets as a grown man happened in the few days after papa’s passing. I didn’t get the chance to go to his funeral, tell my nana how much they and their relationship meant to me as a young boy with an absent father, or even really come to grips with that devastating loss. It was pushed far into the back of my mind because I had other tasks at hand.
Speaking to Coach Bowden, as cheesy as it sounds, felt like I was sitting with a southern medium who was channeling my bluegill-brim-fryin, hellfire and brimstone preachin, too-much-zinc-on-his-nose Papa. Coach Bowden’s voice was like a warm blanket for my soul to wrap itself in while getting a tiny, yet overwhelming, glimpse of my papa all these years later.
When I got off the radio today, I cried. I cried for a few reasons. Firstly, I’m beyond grateful for this job and doing something for a living that I’d do for free. Secondly, I cried because I can’t imagine how hard my grandfather would have sobbed if he had the chance to hear that interview. I’m pretty sure he would have been proud of me today. Bobby Bowden is still a big fish and any southern baptist preaching fisherman would know that. Some of my other blogs he probably could have done without but that’s ok because I don’t think he would have used twitter anyway.
Im reminded of the parameters set forth by Jimmy Valvano in so far as what would qualify as a good day. “If you laugh, you think, and you cry, that's a full day. That's a heck of a day. You do that seven days a week, you're going to have something special.”
Today was a full day.