The Road That Led Me Here

Covering the 13th Region Tournament remains one of my favorite times of the year. It takes me back — not just to great basketball, but to the very foundation of who I am.

Sports gave me my start at this newspaper more than 30 years ago. In many ways, it’s been ingrained in my DNA ever since.

Some of my earliest memories are of my papaw, Dewey Grubb, taking me to Tiger games. I can still see it clearly — those early 1980s teams with Sammy Lee, Russell Corum, Jimmy Brown and Richard Hampton. As a little boy, they weren’t just players; they were giants.

I vaguely remember the late ’70s, too — especially Marcus McKissic and that unforgettable afro. Marcus was a beast on the boards and still stands as Clay County’s all-time leading rebounder. In my young mind, I was also puzzled by Jerry Combs and Thomas Combs. They shared the same last name, so naturally I thought they had to be brothers — never mind that one was white and the other was black. That confused me for a while, but truth be told, I didn’t care. They were Tigers. And I loved them all the same.

The atmosphere in that old gym is something you simply can’t put into words. The band blaring, popcorn in the air, the stands packed shoulder to shoulder — it felt like the center of the universe. When the Tigers hit the road, we’d tune in to WWXL 103 and hang on every word of the play-by-play.

As I sit here writing this, I’ve had a bit of an epiphany. So much of who I am today traces back to those simple moments with Papaw.

He bought a Manchester Enterprise nearly every day. Most afternoons, he’d head to Dobson’s Supermarket — sometimes, I think, just to get a break from my grandma. Across the road, he kept a small garage where we stored coal and returnable bottles. Before we’d leave, he’d send me in to gather the bottles. I took that job seriously. Pepsi with Pepsi. Coke with Coke. Organization mattered.

Then every once in a while, my dad would throw a Dr Pepper in the mix and completely disrupt my system.

Papaw loved to talk. He never met a stranger. And more often than not, he let me tag along. Watching how he interacted with people — with kindness, curiosity and genuine interest — shaped me in ways I didn’t realize at the time. That trait stuck.

When we got home, I would read that newspaper from front to back — sometimes more than once. I just loved to read. I had no idea then that those afternoons would quietly set me on a path to one day working for that very paper — and covering my Tigers.

It’s funny how life works. The little things you don’t think matter often shape you the most.

I don’t know how much longer I’ll continue doing this job. It’s had its highs and its lows. There have been tough seasons and joyful ones. But when I’m sitting courtside at a regional tournament, hearing the roar of the crowd and watching the Tigers take the floor, I’m reminded why I started.

And I’m grateful for the road that led me here.