I was doing a little reminiscing the other day. With sports on its current hiatus due to the coronavirus, there’s been plenty of time for that.

As you may or may not know, I’ve been covering the Bulldogs since 1996—October of 1996 to be exact. Man, there have been some crazy games. Many of what I consider the biggest highlights of my sports writing career involve Georgia games I’ve covered over the 23 seasons since.

However, those first contests toward the latter half of the 1996 season weren’t my first exposure to Georgia football.

Like many of you other old-timers (I’m 55, for those wondering), I grew up listening to Larry Munson on the radio. I was either 10 or 11 when I first became infatuated with Bulldog football, the 1976 season being the first campaign I can vividly recall.

Names like Kevin McLee, Ray Goff, and Jeff Pyburn became my early childhood heroes, and I remember the despair I felt when Pittsburgh and this running back named Tony Dorsett rolled past the Bulldogs in the Sugar Bowl on Jan. 1.

The three years that followed had their ups and downs. But in 1980, my interest was renewed when word came that the Bulldogs were in the running for this wunderkind from Johnson County. Walker, I believe, was his last name.

Recruiting services weren’t around then, and Al Gore was years away from inventing the Internet. Nevertheless, I’d gobble up whatever information I could on Herschel Walker’s recruitment, and how Mike Cavan basically moved to Wrightsville before securing his signature back in April of 1980.

Although I can’t remember exactly, I listened to Munson call every single game of what would be Georgia’s last national championship campaign, and how thrilled I’d be when the Bulldogs happened to be Jefferson Pilot’s SEC game of the week.

Living in southeast Georgia, Athens seemed like another state away.

None of my immediate family had ties to UGA, and as a kid, the only person I knew with Bulldog connections was an older gentleman who went to my church. Vance Dasher was his name, and he was a distant cousin. He always had a red jacket that he wore. When I asked him why, he told me it was because of his love for the University of Georgia.

It wasn’t until 1981 that I finally saw the Bulldogs play in person. It was the annual 4-H day, and I came with a group from Effingham County to watch Georgia play California in what was the second game of that season’s campaign.

The Bulldogs won 27-13. Jimmy Payne blocked a punt for a safety to give Georgia its first points. Walker would rush 35 times for 167 yards, but didn’t score, although quarterback Buck Belue threw for a score and ran for another, with Kevin Butler kicking a pair of field goals to lead the Bulldogs to the win.

It was that game when I told myself I wanted to write sports for a living. Some eight years later I took my first job with the Valdosta Daily Times.

There, I got to know Cavan—then the head coach at Valdosta State—and Belue, who served as the Blazers’ quarterback coach during my tenure there (1987-89).

I vividly remember my one-on-ones with Cavan in his office Wednesday before every game.

Prior to all that, however, was the opportunity I had to cover Erk Russell while he was at Georgia Southern.

Erk was already a legend in my eyes when I covered the Eagles as a student at GSU, but it was later, during my brief stint as the sports editor at the Statesboro Herald, when I really got to know Russell. He had retired, but was still living in Statesboro.

I’ve got my own personal Mount Rushmore of coaches that I’ve been fortunate enough to know or cover, and Russell is one of my four.

For those wondering, the other three are former Valdosta High coaches Nick Hyder and Wright Bazemore, along with former Georgia Southern baseball coach Jack Stallings: four men who had a profound impact on me, not only professionally, but as men. Clarke Central legend Billy Henderson is right there; I place him on the next hill.

All five are gone now, and have been for a while. But recalling their respective legacies, I can’t help but smile.

As we await the end of the current COVID-19 pandemic, I wonder what the future holds. What other memories will I ultimately be able to share?

My wife tells me I’ve still got to work at least 10 more years before she’ll let me retire; at least that’s the plan for now. Those days I dream of waking myself every morning to hit the beach for fishing will have to wait.

But that's okay.

There are still stories I’m excited to tell. It’s going to be fun to see how this journey concludes.