Around 3 am on February 3, 2002, I was dancing like a man on fire in the middle of no small amount of stunned Scots.
I was studying abroad in Edinburgh, and I had convinced a few dozen of my new hallmates that the American Super Bowl was a big deal, and that they should check it. Truth be told, it was my excuse to have a few others join me to see the ultimate David vs Goliath.
And David won.1
David won six more Super Bowls after that. I watched every single one of them - all-out nervous, all-out hopeful, and all-out-confusing to everyone around me.
“Why do you root for Tom Brady?!”
”That guy always wins! Boring…”
”Pretty boy. No personality. Try rooting for an underdog, Bobby.”
—
I first knew Uncle Jim as part of a four-syllable delight: “Dum-and-Curly.”
At two years of age I could not say “Uncle Jim and Aunt Carrie,” but Dum-and-Curly worked well and stuck. I loved them immediately because their love was magnetic. They exuded fun and welcome, and once I was in my early middle school years, Uncle Jim extended that welcome in a way that sent my young soul soaring.
“Bobby, you want to attend a Michigan football game with me?”
Thus began a steady streak of years in the mid-90s where I took at least one, fall Saturday ride with Uncle Jim and his friend-and-fellow-alum, Rick, from Cincinnati to The Big House in Ann Arbor, Michigan.
Uncle Jim would spend the drive rattling off the latest Michigan Wolverine news and player statistics while keeping a constant eye on the Fuzzbuster.
By mid-morning we arrived and parked on the U of M golf course where a huge tailgating scene was unfolding. Soon enough we would find our seats and then spend the next hours watching the Michigan greats: Elvis Grbac and Desmond Howard. Ty Law and Tyrone Wheatley. Lawyer Milloy and Charles Woodson.
And also, eventually, this lanky, unheralded 7th-string backup quarterback named Tom Brady – the ultimate Wolverine David in a world of Goliaths.
We then spent the early evening driving back to Cincinnati on Southbound 75 and reveling in another Michigan W.
All of this meant that though I grew up in Ohio, I spent my formative elementary and middle school years falling in love with the University of Michigan.
I bought the jersey.
I framed-and-hung the Fab Five basketball poster on bedroom wall.
I definitely took my share of playground persecution for not rooting for the in-state team.
(The Fab Five)
For years I thought I would go to the University of Michigan, and the only reason I didn’t apply is that I heard it got so cold during the winter that students walked from class to class through underground tunnels. That sounded depressingly awful, and so I went south for school (Davidson College) and compensated by routinely wearing a University of Michigan hat to class.
(Davidson’s Richardson Stadium)
When the Davidson football team went undefeated during the fall of my freshman year, we students tore down the school’s goalpost and ran through campus with it.
I was carrying a front portion of the pole, and someone took a photo of me in that moment.
That photo was eventually used as the cover of The Davidson Freshman Facebook2 in the fall of 2001 – as in the very first image that 400 freshmen saw when they arrived on campus and opened their welcome bag.
Know what I was wearing in that picture of unbridled “Davidson goes undefeated!” joy? A Michigan Wolverine’s hat.
I mean, seriously.
But Uncle Dum was cool, Uncle Dum thought his nephew was pretty cool, and Uncle Dum gave that nephew Michigan.
--
You have to know, we Midwesterners with deep Germanic roots are not known for doing feelings well. Big hugs and I love you are… profoundly uncomfortable.
So sports are a love language for a whole lot of us.3
Joining alongside one another for the wins and losses is the way we communicate our with-ness in all things.
Sports stats and stories are our poetry to one another.
And so yes,
Shouting “Go Blue” while donning a Michigan football jersey on Halloween in the heart of Ohio…
Wearing a Michigan hat for Davidson’s greatest sports moment (pre-Steph Curry era)…
Dancing among confused Scots and then going nuts for Tom Brady for all 23 years in the NFL…
…every bit of it was about Uncle Jim.
It was about the love he shared with me and the love I received from him. It was both “I love you” and a sign to others that I was known-and-loved by someone special.
Later today, family and friends are gathering for Uncle Jim’s visitation and Celebration of Life. He died suddenly last weekend while recovering from surgery. There are no words for such things, and we Midwesterners aren’t often great at finding the words anyway.4
So what we’re doing instead is wearing sports gear. Everybody in attendance will be wearing shirts and jerseys from one of Uncle Jim’s favorite teams:
The Cincinnati Bengals.
The Cincinnati Reds.
The Michigan Wolverines.
It will be a massive mesh of black, orange, red, maize, and blue. It will look like a confused tailgating party. It will be so much love all at once it will probably hurt.
Go Blue, Uncle Dum.
--
What about you? Strange affiliations or teams you love or hobbies you keep because…well, you have an Uncle Dum or Aunt Curly?
What might it look like to honor the gift they gave?
You could wear the jersey today or pick up the hobby or… if that person is still with us today you could invite them over for the game/thing.
Or, goodness…
You might even risk a hug.
Or I love you.
In the end, it really is the only thing that matters.
The Patriots (with Brady at quarterback) defeated the St. Louis Rams, 20-17, on a last-second field goal.
Yes. The annual Davidson book with a compilation of the incoming student photos was called The Facebook. Pre-the-other-Facebook you’ve heard of.
In fact, if you are lonely, friendless, and searching… get to Cincinnati and say one of the following in a public space:
Wire-to-wire.
Shake-and-Blake.
Crosstown Shootout.
”This is the Old Lefthander, roundin' third, and headin' for home.”
Nasty Brothers.
Nick Van Exel. David West. Danny Fortson. Boomer. Joe Burrow. Definitely say Joe Burrow.
Or just break out in the Icky Shuffle.
I promise you someone will come up to you, put their arm around you, and you’re in. For you will have spoken the love language.
Though this obituary suggests the exact opposite. It is one of the finest I have ever read, and it captures Uncle Jim beautifully.
Beautiful read, I shared it with my network!
A rich obituary and a wonderful tribute story from his nephew.