“The Voice of Bulldog Football”

On this page is an article I wrote about Russell Register beginning his 22nd season as the radio play by play announcer of Bulldog Football. You will note that he had three different color analysts in each of his first three years. As the third one, I joined him at the beginning of the 1991 season. For better or worse, he’s been stuck with me ever since. I calculated just how many Bulldog football broadcast he has done in the previous 21 seasons. Out of 249 broadcast, he has done 247 of them.

As a young child and teenager I used to listen to a lot of football on the radio. I listened to both high school and college football. Some of my earliest memories of listening to football on the radio was in the late 60’s. FSU played all their home games on Saturday night back then and my family attended those games on a regular basis. On the way back to Marianna my dad love to tune our AM radio to LSU football. They also played on Saturday nights but being on central time they were an hour behind the Seminoles. I can recall being young enough to lay in the front sit of our car with my head in my mother’s lap, listening to those strange sounding Cajun names and the roar of that rowdy Bengal crowd on a Baton Rouge Saturday night.

In 1990 I was living in Tallahassee but was home one weekend and made sure to tune the radio to Bulldog football. As the son of a former Bulldog football coach, the brother of two former Bulldog football players and having worn the purple and gold myself, I wanted to check up on the Bulldogs. I had also heard from my brother that Russell was doing the broadcast.

That was no surprise to me. I had known him growing up and could always recall he had a habit of “announcing” when we played pick up games of football and basketball. The minute I heard him broadcasting that game I knew that it was something that I would like to try. I am firmly convinced that the LORD made that opportunity happened a few months later. Twenty years later I am still tagging along.

Bulldog football fans are a faithful bunch. But like any group who gets used to something, they are capable to taking things for granted. Russell has been around for so long that I suspect some folks take him, and the quality of the broadcast, for granted. For the past 19 years I have listened to Russell’s voice come through my headset. He is the best high school football announcer I have ever heard. Simply Put, he is The Voice of Bulldog football and I hope that Bulldog football fans appreciate what he has done for our program over these past 22 years. From the Front Porch: Uncle Bob said his son has a military golf game…left, right, left, right.

Out and About - The Hills of N.C.

Are you looking for a place to beat the swelter heat of Dog Days in Northwest Florida. Well the hills of North Carolina are callin’. Located in the western portion of the Tar Heel State, the Great Smokey Mountains and the Nantahala National Forest are the perfect get away places to for us Floridians. It’s no wonder that is seems like every other car tag I saw last week in North Carolina was from the Sunshine State. There are a multitude of opportunities when vacationing in western North Carolina and the following are just a few suggestions.

Hiking enthusiasts will feel like they have died and gone to heaven. This region is a mecca of hiking trails with amazing scenery. Of course the grand daddy of the hiking trails is the Appalachian Trail, but there are literally hundreds of other hiking trails in this region. I thoroughly enjoyed hiking the Big Laurel Falls trail on Standing Indian Mountain in the Nantahala National Forest. The long drive to get there was worth the hike and trip to Big Laurel Falls, which offered nice little pool of cool water just right for a summer time dip. The nearby portions of the Appalachian Trail are worth the hike as well, including the Wayah Bald Tower (elevation 5,342 feet). This stone lookout tower offers some spectacular panoramic views of the surrounding mountain ranges.

The town of Cherokee offers a variety of fun things to do as well as some cultural enrichment opportunities to learn more about the history of the Cherokee Indians. While some aspects of Cherokee fall into the classic “tourist trap” category, don’t let that steer you away. My favorite place in Cherokee is the Oconaluftee Islands Park in downtown Cherokee. This public park has pavilions, grills, and shade trees that invite you and your family for some quality outdoor time. The main attraction though is the Oconaluftee River. The river offers an opportunity to tube or swim, which are ideal on a hot summer afternoon. The kids will absolutely love playing along the river’s shallows with the thousands of river rocks.

The Great Smokey Mountain Railroad departs out of Bryson City and offers two routes, one to the Nantahala Gorge and the other to Dillsboro. The route to the Nantahala Gorge offers nice scenery of the mountains, Fontana Lake and the Nantahala River. An hour layover at the Nantahala Outdoor Center offers the opportunity for lunch and, if you are brave enough, a dip in the frigid waters (52 degrees) of the Nantahala. I can attest that the Nantahala River makes Blue Springs feel like a hot tub.

The region demonstrates their love of music as almost every community offers “Music In The Park.” On most Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights these communities offer free musical entertainment in the downtown park areas. And their first choice of music is their beloved “mountain music” or better known as Bluegrass music. With a little scouting of local newspapers you can map out the various musical opportunities available. While the music may not be what you normally listen to, I assure you that you will see and hear some of the finest musicians anywhere when taking in these venues.

“Doing Nothing…Mountain Style”

While vacationing last week in North Carolina (See Out and About…The Hills of North Carolina on page B3) we ventured to the town of Cherokee. Everybody had their planned activities for the day. Some of my tribal clan planned to contribute to the local Cherokee economy at Harrah’s. My youngest son Patrick is too young for Harrah’s, but he also wanted to do his part to help the local Cherokee economy. So he planned to do some shopping at the quintessential tourist shopping strip.

He turned to me and asked what I planned to do. “I’m headin’ to my favorite place in Cherokee” I said. “You must be going to that park” he replied, in that tone that only a 15 year old can use that suggest they are questioning their parent’s sanity.

“You got it,” I fired back, “I’m heading to Oconaluftee Island Park.” Not only is it my favorite place in Cherokee to visit, it is one of my favorite places in all of the mountains to visit. The town of Cherokee has some elements of a “tourist trap” and I normally try to avoid tourist traps. But I don’t mind Cherokee because I know I can relax at the park. This public park’s feature attraction is the Oconaluftee River’s rippling waters on either side of the island.

The river is just right for a relaxing tube float or dip in the cool waters on a hot summer afternoon. When our kids were little they could spend hours along the river’s shallows, playing with the thousands of river rocks. And of course a mandatory rock skipping contest was held at each outing at the park.

My kids have outgrown much of that now and the park doesn’t hold the same appeal to them. “What are you going to do at the park?” Patrick asked me. “Oh I’ll probably float on a tube and take a little dip. After that I’ll probably just sit in my chair under a shade tree and watch the river roll by.” He shook his head and I could just image that his 15 year old brain was thinking ‘he’s just going to sit in a chair and watch the river roll by’, how boring. “Doesn’t sound to exciting, does it” I asked. Again he just shook his head as if to wonder about dear ole dad’s state of mind.

I felt compelled to explain to him the wonders of doing nothing. In fact I told him, Simply Put, sometimes doing nothing…especially in the mountains… is my favorite thing to do.

P.S. – after his shopping trip, Patrick joined me at the park for a swim and rock skipping contest. He beat his dad at skipping rocks and proved he hasn’t quite out grown the park yet. Neither have I and I hope we never do.

From the Front Porch: Uncle Bob said if you are lucky enough to be in the mountains…you are lucky enough.

“Reading Simply Put”

From time to time folks stop me and talk about this column. I’ve been writing a weekly column now for almost four years and I guess I’m still a little amazed that folks like to read what I write. Most of the comments that I get are favorable and a few folks have even told me I should have gone into journalism for a living.

As flattering as that is, I can’t help but wonder what Ms. Musgrove, Ms. Gibson or Mr. Almond would say about me writing a column and sports each week for the newspaper. The ladies were my 8th and 9th grade English teachers and I am positive that I would have been their #1 choice for “least likely to succeed in the field of journalism.” I suspect that Mr. Almond, who tried to teach me English at Chipola, would be completely baffled at the prospect of my writing anything for the newspaper.

Halfway through the semester Mr. Almond offered me some advice. After exhausting his supply of red pens grading my papers, he told me I had two choices. Option #1, drop the class and retake it next semester. Option #2, stay in the class and maybe learn enough to help me pass the class when I retook it next semester. Realizing my chance of passing his class was worst than a snowball’s chance south of the border, I went with option one. I suspect that choice was much to Mr. Almond’s relief.

I am also somewhat amazed when folks talk to me about when and where they read my column. One lady told me that she gets her paper by mail on Friday. She spends her Friday evenings relaxing while reading the paper and my column. Lots of folks tell me that they read the paper and my column in the mornings while relaxing with a cup of coffee.

One fellow told me that he reads my column while in the “library” seated on his “throne.” I wasn’t quite sure how to take that comment. Was it meant as a compliment that he reads my column while using the bathroom, or does he equate what I have to say with what he is doing?

Here’s what I do know. I still find it amazing that I can figure out something to write about each week, and for the most part that something is apparently enjoyable to our readers. Here’s the other thing that I know. As you are reading this week’s column I am in one of my favorite places in the world, the mountains of North Carolina. And as I enjoy a little down time, I am reminded of what an honor it is that you allow me to come into your homes, and I guess even your bathrooms, on a weekly basis. So, Simply Put, thanks for reading Simply Put. If you’ll keep on reading, I’ll keep on writing.



From the Front Porch: Coach said every path has a few puddles.

“Not Ready For the Pasture”

Last week’s column about getting older has resulted in several folks making comments and observations to me. After a while all the talk of getting older was beginning to make me feel….old.

One commented that most of their conversations are about doctors, hospitals and medication. Another told me that if it weren’t for their doctors appointments they would rarely leave the house. Then I was surfing the TV channels one night and saw a program on aging. Talk about depressing. If watching a program on aging doesn’t take a year or two off your life, nothing will.

It began to occur to me that talking about being old and thinking about being old just makes me feel even older. While being 50 doesn’t qualify me as a spring chicken, being 50 isn’t nearly as old as it used to be. I can remember when I was a teenager a fellow told me he was 28. I thought to myself “man is he old.” It doesn’t seem like that many years ago to me that someone being 40 or 50 was a clear sign that they probably already had all their funeral arrangements laid out. Not so anymore. Now being 50 just means I’m a seasoned veteran. I’m just getting broke in. Heck, even 60 don’t sound that old anymore.

I’m told that two good ways to avoid “getting old” is to stay physically active and watch your diet. I’ve got the physically active part down pretty good. I jog 3 miles at least 3-4 times a week. I trained several months getting ready for my Freedom Springs triathlon back in July. I still love to canoe, kayak and swim as a way to enjoy the outdoors and get some exercise. Next week I’ll be heading to the mountains of North Carolina and I’m sure I’ll take in a few hiking trails and do some whitewater rafting.

I’ll confess my diet needs a lot of improvement. I have an absolute love affair with food, and most of it is unhealthly. Is there anything better than a thick juicy bacon cheeseburger? I love just about anything that is fried, potato chips are still the #1 snack food and a 9 pm bed time snack always sounds good to me.

But diet aside, I am trying to think young so that I don’t get too old too quick. There are still a lot of things I want to do in life. And many of them are going to require that I be physically, and mentally, up to the challenge.

So while I can’t do anything to stop getting older in years, I can do something to stay physically fit and young in mind. Because, Simply Put, I’m not ready just yet to be put out to pasture.



From the Front Porch: Uncle Bob said his cousin quit school in the 10th grade because of pneumonia. Not because he had it, but because he couldn’t spell it.

“Diver Down”

Its official, I’m getting old. After turning 50 in February I am racking up the frequent flyer miles to the doctor’s offices and I’m not thrilled about these flights. First they put me on cholesterol medicine. You know your getting old when the conversations with your buddies turn from your athletic abilities or youthful escapades to what is the name of your cholesterol medication. And it’s kind of like golf in that you take a strange sense of pride if your milligrams are lower than what they have to take.

Then they signed me up for a colonoscopy. It was not near as bad as some made it out to be, but just the same it won’t bother me not to wait another 10 years for round two of “here’s looking up your ole address”.

When I went for my five year annual check up I realized my wife had flanked me. Dr. Cox had been telling me for a year or so that I had sleep apnea and needed a sleep study. Like a well trained husband I ignored her diagnosis. So while at the doctor’s office herself one day she told our doctor about her diagnosis. So at my five year annual check up our doctor warned me about sleep apnea and recommended a sleep study. Realizing the two were in cahoots, I knew I was whipped. Two sleep studies later it was confirmed, I have sleep apnea.

The treatment for sleep apnea is a machine that blows air into a hose. This hose is hooked to a mask that has to be worn while you sleep. I got my device this week and it was a little like getting a new car. The saleslady proclaimed the wonders of the latest model, Model #9, like a car salesman. It’s sleek and shiny, looking somewhat like a Bose stereo. It has all the bells and whistles. The Swift FX mask, with pillows, has the latest comfort designs on the market. I thought about asking how many miles to a gallon (distilled water) it gets.

I have several friends that have these machines and mask to help them sleep. Some proclaim them the best thing since sliced bread, while some say they wouldn’t even make a good boat anchor. I must confess that while traveling with some of these fellows I have teased them about their bedtime accessories. They put on their mask, hook up their hoses and fire up the oxygen tank. They look like scuba divers getting ready for the big plunge. When bedtime rolled around for them I would howl “diver down” and chuckle as I crawled mask less into my bed.

Well those days of teasing my buddies are over. I have joined their ranks and from now on, Simply Put, it’s diver down for me too.
From the Front Porch: Coach said never tell anyone your problems to anyone…20% of them don’t care and the other 80% are glad you have them.

“Peach Run”

Last week’s column about Grandfathers had me thinking a lot about my family tree. And then last Tuesday I went to the grocery store and made my way to the produce section. A box was sitting on the floor and it quickly caught my eye. It was a box of peaches. But not just any peaches. It was a box of Chilton County peaches.

The roots of my family tree run deep in Chilton County (Alabama). My great great grandfather, Littleton M. Cox, moved his family there in 1870. Some contingency of our family has been there ever since. My folks left Chilton County and moved south of the border (Florida) in 1954. But they made regular trips back there to visit family. Growing up I can recall that any trip made during the summer meant the added treat of Chilton County peaches.

In my dad’s later years he began making a peach run each summer to Chilton County. It started out with a few baskets and each year the payload increased. By the end the payload was the bed of a truck full of peaches making their way back to the Sunshine State.

Upon seeing that box of peaches in the grocery store I picked out several and took them home to promptly devour them. One was sliced and eaten immediately. The others ended up in a cobbler. As usual they were delicious. Between that box of peaches and the reminiscing about my family, the light went on in my head. I realized that action was needed, and needed now. It was time for a mission. It was time for a peach run.

Contact was made on Thursday with my cousins Danny and Tim Carter, as well as my uncle Raymond Cox. Tim’s nephew works at a peach orchard and arrangements were made for five boxes of peaches to be ready for pick up Saturday morning. On Friday I called up my mom in Tallahassee and she accepted my spur of the moment invitation to join this mission.

The mission went off without a hitch. After picking up the peaches and short visits with my cousins, uncle and some of my mom’s family in Montgomery, we motored our way on back south of the border. Smokey and the Bandit would have been proud of this mission.

There’s an old country song that hails the wonders of home grown tomatoes. “Ain’t but two things money can’t buy, that’s true love and home grown tomatoes.” I don’t know of any songs about peaches but I do know that The Allman Brothers Band titled their 1972 album “Eat A Peach”. The Allman Brothers were southern rockers from Georgia and while Georgia peaches are okay, they don’t come close to Chilton County peaches. Simply Put, ain’t no peach like a Chilton County peach.

From the Front Porch: Uncle Bob said the key to being a good manager is keeping the people who hate you away from the people who are undecided.