Epilogue: No death, no interception, just great memories

By STEVE KING

It was September 1980, and my dad was dying.
The only one who knew it for a long time was God. After all, he — my dad. not God — walked into what was then known as Barberton Citizens Hospital carrying his stuff. As such, no one could have seen the downward spiral he was about to befall him.
My dad was a smart guy. and I’ve always felt like he figured it out near the end, again before anyone else sensed trouble. I think that happens to a lot of people, that they get a sixth sense — an early warning, as it were — about their fate .
Anyway, by the end of September, Dad — my best friend, the person on whom I relied, even as a mid-20-something young man — was gone. It was a dagger to my heart and soul.
We’ve all gone through that in losing a parent, especially for the first time.
But the best medicine I received for getting through that was not the kind words and support of others, although I certainly appreciated them and still do, but instead what was going on on Sunday afternoons for the rest of the fall and into the first few weeks of winter.
It was the Browns’ 1980 Kardiac Kids season. What occurred in that wildly fun, magical year was … well, wildly fun and magical, taking my mind off my dad’s passing. at least for a while.
Sports mean more than just games and scores. They are diversions that provide us joy and happiness. They take us places we can’t go by ourselves.
For me, and I’m guessing some — or even a lot — of you as well, the 1980 season was such an event — or series of events, as it were.
All those fantastic finishes piled on top of one another lasted for more than four months. It was breathtaking.
You had to see it to believe it, and even then, you didn’t believe it.
And when it was finally over — way too soon — we all started breathing again. As I watched Oakland Raiders cornerback Mike Davis snare Brian Sipe’s pass that was intended for tight end Ozzie Newsome, my first reaction was like anyone else’s in Northeast Ohio, “Arghhhhh! The season’s over!”
The second reaction, coming almost simultaneously, was, “My dad’s gone.” I had not dealt with it to that point. I didn’t have to. I could put it off a while.
But just like it’s not his passing but rather his life that I think about when I remember my dad, it’s not that interception but instead all the great plays the Browns made that I think about when I remember the 1980 Kardiac Kids.