Football really did mean something after Sept. 11

 Like nearly everyone who was in the United States on Sept. 11, 2001, I remember where I was when 

I learned of the attack on the World Trade Center.

I was in the insurance business – writing was still a paid hobby at the time – and was attending a meeting in Lexington, Kentucky that Tuesday morning. I'm not sure how much time had elapsed after the buildings had been hit before we had a break and saw things unfold on the lobby television. Both towers had been hit by that time, but while we were on break, the reports started coming in that another plane hit the Pentagon.

While everyone there knew the world had changed that morning, I don't think any of us really comprehended how much things were changing that morning.

A few minutes after we returned to the meeting, someone burst into the room saying, “One of the towers just collapsed.”

Needless to say, there was very little insurance business discussed the rest of the day. Most of us stayed in the lobby to watch things unfold.

I thought of my family. I thought of how America had been so blessed to have not had a war on its soil for 150-plus years, yet we'd just been attacked.

Like most other Americans, I was simultaneously scared and angry.

By the end of the week, I had learned just how important some of the simple pleasures we know as Americans really are.

Anderson County was scheduled to play Western Hills in a high school football game the Friday following the attacks. If you remember, President George Bush asked to address the nation that night, so most high schools postponed their Friday games to Saturday night. The colleges and pros canceled for the weekend.

I believe the high schools had it right, though.

That Saturday night, Anderson and Western Hills, two winless football teams, took the field at Anderson's Warford Stadium. That the Bearcats took a 50-6 win was not the real story. It turned out to the the only game Anderson County would win that year, although Lexington Catholic later forfeited another.

The packed house was the story back on Sept. 15, 2001.

The fans participated in a moving patriotic service before the game. They cheered on their teams, both of which played with emotion. And, if anything, that game, and many others like it that day, was our way of fighting back.

We might not have carried a gun or fly a plane, but in a small way, we were saying, “You can bruise us, but you can't keep us down.”

That night provided one of the most memorable post-game interviews I have ever conducted. Anderson's coach at the time, Jimmy Joe Jackson, one of the all-time nice guys, was mighty happy about the win. A very good social studies teacher for his main job, he was even more proud of what those few hours had meant.

We'd seen the towers collapse. We'd seen the carnage at the Pentagon.

We'd started learning about the passengers thwarting a fourth attack, perhaps on the Capitol or the White House.

We were bruised and hurt.

But that Saturday night, the flag was flying high. Little by little, the United States was fighting back.

And Jackson could have spoken for millions of Americans when he said, “Osama Bin Laden is not going to stop us from playing football.”

Or stop us from doing anything else.

Lasting Legacy

(Over my career in sports journalism, I have met so many wonderful people who give of their time, but most importantly, live the faith they claim. One such person was Tracy Briscoe. I knew Tracy well, but I would not characterize us as close friends. We often talked on the sidelines as we were working football games in differing capacities. Tracy passed away far too young at 48. This is my column, which appeared in the Sept. 3 edition of The Anderson News.)

 Someone was missing from the sideline when Anderson County opened the home football season Friday night.

As I thought about that fact as the game wore on, little did I realize the eerie coincidence that the night the Bearcats opened what they hope will be another great season would be the final night of Tracy Briscoe's life.

Even though Tracy, a local physical therapist who offered his services at Anderson games, had missed a few over the last few years, my knowing that he had been seriously ill over the last few weeks made that fact so difficult to fathom.

As I exchanged pleasantries with acquaintances from other media outlets working the contest, I could not help but think about the many times Tracy Briscoe and I carried on conversations lasting an entire game.

Through football, Tracy Briscoe became a friend, yet I can't say we were close. I can't even remember having a cup of coffee together somewhere along the way. But we talked.

And talked a lot over the last few years.

You see, working the sidelines as a member of the media can actually be a lonely place. There is action going on in front of you but precious few to chat with between then plays.

Tracy Briscoe and I changed the world several times under the Friday Night Lights.

I came to really respect this young man over time as it was obvious he had a deep knowledge of the game. While I probably did not see him play over two or three times – he finished his Anderson career before I started writing – fans recognized his ability when he was named one of the Best of the Bearcats team The Anderson News sponsored in 2007.

Suffice it to say his vote totals were very strong in his favor.

Over time, I came to realize why that was the case and why I respected him so. There is no doubt Tracy was an outstanding end and linebacker, but he was even a better person, one that was truly loved and respected by many in his hometown.

I am sure there are many photos of Tracy playing football or basketball during his years at Anderson County High School. Those memories will always be strong.

But I am also sure of this: Tracy will be remembered more for who he was. As acute myeloid leukemia drained life from this vibrant young man, I saw Facebook posts from those closest to him saying things like “Trace is ready.”

Only 48 years old, lots of life supposed to be in front of him, but friends simply saying, “Trace is ready.”

It is fitting that the last time I remember talking with Tracy Briscoe was not on the sideline of an Anderson County football game, but at his home church, Sand Spring Baptist.

His uncle, Larry Briscoe, had invited me to attend the church's Christmas Homecoming celebration last December. Jeff Stice, a renowned gospel pianist, would be part of the program as would several local singers.

Tracy Briscoe was one of those performers. His faith was radiant as he presented his message in song that night.

Sunday, one of Tracy's best friends, Anderson County Assistant Superintendent of Schools Derek Shouse, posted on his Facebook account, “When we first talked with him two weeks ago about his prognosis, he very emphatically told us he was ready. He knew his relationship with the Savior and had no reason to fear. He said, 'There is NO fear, when you KNOW Christ.' That's the message I am compelled to share from my friend, teammate, and indeed brother in Christ.”

And for that, more than any touchdown he ever scored, Tracy Briscoe's legacy will live on.

Why I have seen the Oak Ridge Boys in concert 27 times … and counting

It's been almost three weeks since I stood on the turf of creaky old Cardinal Stadium, holding an umbrella over my head and praying any downpours would stay away.

The Oak Ridge Boys were playing at the Kentucky State Fair for the 39th year. They've become as much a fixture in late August as funnel cakes, corn dogs and Freddy Farm Bureau.

Actually, they have been there a lot longer than the current Freddy, who replaced the original several years back, but if you are from Kentucky, you get my drift. When it's time for the Kentucky State Fair, you know the Oaks are going to be in the concert lineup.

I don't know how much longer that is going to be the case. Three of the four singers have passed their 70th birthday. Even though their concerts have more energy than many groups whose members are half their age, time really doesn't stand still.

The Oak Ridge Boys just make it seem to.

Back on Aug. 17, the rain poured for a while, but when the sun started peeking through about two hours before the show, it looked like the weather would hold off. But, as someone with cochlear implants, I made sure I would be close to cover, just in case the clouds opened again, which they did. Instead of staying in some prime seats, my daughter and I strolled to the side of seating layout, then stood and watched another incredible evening with some of the giants of the music business.

Hey, seats close to the front are cool, but I wanted to be able to hear on Monday morning. Suffice it to say that rain and electronic artificial ears do not match.

But back to why I will go far and near to attend a concert by a group that has not had a Top 10 hit in over 20 years.

What I witnessed on Aug. 17, just like I had back in August, 1973 and 25 times in between was a group of ultimate professionals.

The first time I saw the Oaks, only a handful of people had filed into a high school auditorium in Lexington. I am not exaggerating when I say no more than 150 people were there. 

But even with the small crowd, The Oaks of 1973 gave an incredible show that day. I was all of 15 years old, but what that show taught me has been branded in my thinking ever since: If a job is worth doing, it is worth doing right, no matter who is there or how many can see your work.

I don't remember a lot about that concert, other than talking with Willie Wynn, the group's tenor at the time, in the lobby and buying some 8-track tapes – remember them? – from him. I can't say how long that afternoon concert lasted, but I would bet our cows got a late supper that evening.

Forty-one years later, the cast had changed considerably. Duane Allen and Richard Sterban are still around. The clean-shaven Bill Golden, who had styled dark hair back in 1973, is now William Lee Golden. His gray beard has been growing for over 30 years and is easily one of the most recognizable faces in the music business even today.

The four-piece band of that day has grown to six instruments and none of the musicians were with the Oaks that first day I saw them.

But the group still has that same professionalism. On Aug. 17, Joe Bonsall, who replaced Wynn a few months after my first Oaks concert, thanked the crowd for braving the elements and said, “We will sing as long as it's safe.”

And like every other Oaks show I have attended, people of all ages were having a blast. Near me, an usher was boogeyin' as Golden sang The Allman Brothers classic, “Ramblin' Man.” Just to my right a group of 20-somethings were dancing to their hearts content during “Roll, Tennessee River” and “Elvira.”

But there are plenty of great acts out there. What makes the Oak Ridge Boys STILL play to packed houses nearly everywhere they go?

I believe it is the messages of their songs.

When my personal Concert No. 1 got underway, Duane Allen stepped to the mike singing, “Jesus is the universal language and love is the key to brotherhood, peace and understanding and living in harmony. … I believe in Jesus, I believe in love.”

It was a gospel version of Mac Davis’ mega-hit, “I Believe in Music.”

I can remember that moment simply because I had learned to play Davis’ song on my guitar about the same time. Funny how certain things stick with you.

Forty-one years ago, the Oaks were a progressive gospel quartet. With a full band behind them, I just thought they were cool.

Today, these guys are still cool, and while their music is classified “Country” now, the positive message of family values and faith are still there.

“Reach out and touch a hand, make a friend if you can.”

“Every day, I want to shake somebody’s hand.

Every day, I want to make somebody know that they can.”

And, every concert I have attended, even after the crossover, has looked back at those gospel roots, whether it be rousing “Heaven Bound” or classics like “Have a little talk with Jesus” and the a cappella “Amazing Grace” encore.

In a world where bad news and pessimism abounds, this positive outlook is like a breath of fresh air.

Yep, I am a fan, a huge fan, of The Oaks.

And I am looking forward to Concert No. 28 and beyond.