September 3, 2010

Daddy, Me and Football

We lived next door to the house that Frank Nunley was born in. The house was at the bottom of the hill.  He played for the 49ers. Daddy was always one to mention folks that went somewhere from the Lexington/Rogersville area. He was not a show off himself. He if not for drinking would have been one of the kindest men that ever lived, I am sure. I found the kind part of him watching Sunday afternoon Pro Football. I was a little girl that loved Pro Football for if only to steal some time with Daddy.
Dallas Cowboys, 49er's those were our teams. We hated Pittsburg, because Daddy didn't like Terry Bradshaw. He played for Pittsburg as many years as Daddy and I watched football. Daddy fussed about his attitude every Pittsburgh Steelers game we watched.  (1970–1983)

Frank Nunley Wikipedia. It even says on Wikipedia that he was born in Lexington Alabama. I wish it said on County Road 51 at the bottom of the hill, next to Corum Chapel Baptist Church. I will add that the Garner's lived at the top of the hill.  I also jumped off the turning plow I was riding on, right in front of the house he was born in. I jumped while the tractor was moving slow thinking my brother was right that it wouldn't hurt with us going that slow. It hurt, my knees were skint to pieces. I jumped off the back of a tractor and skint my knees in front of the house that Frank was born in, how about that?
When I was little there were only four television channels to watch. Granddaddy Garner had this thing that if you turned the channel on the TV it would tear it up. What the crap! I was seven and it pissed me off. Channel 19 was the only channel that he would let us watch. He didn't know it but, when he wasn't looking I watched other channels and guess what it didn't tear the TV up. He finally died when I was in the fourth grade and we started changing the channels after he was dead and gone. Well it took a bit of time to convience Grandmother that it would not hurt the TV to change it off of channel 19. This is true, I really couldn't make this up, I promise. I found a good thing in a time the family was grieving someone dying
Sunday afternoons were always a time we rested. On Sunday we really did not do anything much. Daddy used to say, "this has been the longest day." It is hard for me to imagine a day seeming too long now. The days pass faster than I want. The weeks, months and years are passing by way to fast. Daddy must have gotten bored on the Sundays that he said were so long. I loved them. He and I sat on the plastic gold sofa, that he had put sheet metal under to hold the broken end up. That is were he hid his whiskey bottle, under the couch cushion. He lay there on that couch sometimes for longer than a week. Only raising up to take another drink.
The Sundays were all Pro football. We watched the Dallas Cowboys, Los Angeles Rams, Green bay Packers and the 49ers. Daddy knew Frank that played for the 49ers. He told that he was born in Sam Corums house every time we watched one of their games. I visualized him in a cradle wearing a 49ers uniform. Daddy taught me all about football. He explained the first downs which was the most difficult part to me. The rest I got easier just with him telling me. There was always popped corn. It was popped in the pan that had a nail for a handle. I wish I still had that pan. It was perfect to make popped corn. We had grape cool-aid to drink. Well, that is what I drank.
It was so interesting breaking it down each play. Daddy telling me what was going on. He really wanted to share the things he knew with me. There were very few days like Sunday and it was not every Sunday, but those days were so good that I pretend in my mind that it was every Sunday during football season.

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