When I was nine years old I fell in love with a football team that would consume most of my young life and gave birth to my career as a sportswriter.
In 1981, Clemson went on a magical run that most of us, who lived in South Carolina in those days, can still recall. By then, I was already a Clemson fan thanks to the influence of my parents. Though a Furman graduate, my mother bleed Orange and White and my step father was Clemson alum.
Like most of us do from the great state of South Carolina, I had to choose which colors I wanted to wear—Orange and White or Garnet and Black—at an early age.