Before I got on the elliptical today, I looked for the 1986 Independence Bowl on YouTube. I was there. I found it!
This was the first bowl game I attended. I was 18. My grandparents lived in Shreveport. I had just finished a leg-swinging fall at Louisiana Tech. To see the Ole Miss Rebels come to Shreveport for the Independence Bowl was BONUS city! This child of the Midwest has parents who were both born in Mississippi. My dad was an Army brat. He lived all over. My mother rarely got out of Scott County, Mississippi until it was time for Nurses Training in Jackson. I have long had an affinity for the Ole Miss Rebels, thanks in large to a cousin of mine. I have seen the Rebs play in more stadiums, nine, than any other team I have ever seen. I’ve seen 80 FBS teams play from coast to coast. When I think about that I just stop and say thanks.
But on this night in 1986, the Ole Miss Rebels restored a part of my soul. Just seeing them run out of tunnel did that. So much angst was released. Look, my grandfather, there in Shreveport, was battling cancer. In the summer of 1986, I dropped him off and picked him up after a cobalt treatment that was progressive in its day. This guy I had always seen as a piece of steel, a WWII vet, was doubled over in the car as I drove him home. I have never felt more hopeless before or since.
Back to the game. A game I needed all those years ago.
Kids, you have no clue as to how excited I was to watch this game today almost 40 years later.
To see Rebel Kicker Bill Smith with a kicking shoe tied up just like the one I had was enough to bring a tear to my eye.
I’m surprised more and more at the symmetry of the games in my life that have been important to me. Yes, I saw hundreds of games in Bloomington, Indiana before Coach Cig got there. Some of those were Michigan-Butt ugly. Let’s just say the 15-0 record in Bloomington under Coach Cignetti is certainly appreciated.
The 1986 I-Bowl?
The Rebels won that I-Bowl 20-17. Sophomore QB Mark Young completed 31 of 50 for 343 yards for Ole Miss.
Watching this game meant a great deal to me. My dad played many of his high school games on the field I was looking at that night in 1986. His high school, St. John’s in Shreveport, didn’t have a stadium. They played at “The Fairgrounds”, as it was called back then.
Just another installment in the life of the midwestfootballwriter.com.
Yes, I am blessed.