It was January 6, 1980. I was at my dad’s apartment running around and of course talking about everything under the run. I was seven years old. Life was just beginning for me.

I had my coloring books, my Star Wars and Batman action toys. I was pretty much set. But, like now, it was hard for me to sit still. My dad was a very patient man. He pretty much let me be me, except for when I was talking too loud. He would just reach over by neck and pretend he was turning the volume down, indicating to me that I needed to be quiet.

But my father was a huge fan of the Pittsburgh Steelers, Pirates and Penguins. Being from the Burgh himself, he grew up as a concessions boy at old Forbes Field in the Oakland neighborhood. He did it so he could watch his Pirates, and later, his Steelers for free while making a few extra dollars along the way.

On January 6, 1980 he was watching his beloved Steelers play the Houston Oilers in the AFC Championship Game. This was the last of those great Steelers’ team that won four Super Bowls in six years in the 1970s. I of course did not care or know anything about that at the time. I was more into playing with my toys than watching a football game.

But I was one of those kids that did not like to do stuff by myself so I tried to get my father to participate, but we would politely tell me, “No, I’m watching the game.” Well, the message did not quite get through to me so I continued to bother my dad. Finally, he had enough.

My dad was a gentle man, who had a booming voice. He very rarely used that voice except when he was mad and he needed you to do what he asked. So, he grabbed me, sat me down beside him on the couch and pointed to the television.

“Do you see that right there,” he asked me. “That’s the Steelers. We are a Steelers Family. On Sundays we sit down and watch our Steelers play. That’s what you are going to do.”

So I did. And obviously, I enjoyed it. Not only did I become a Steelers fan that day, but that is the day I became a football fan. From then on Saturdays and Sundays, and Monday nights if my mom would let me stay up, I watched football. I could not get enough of it. I loved everything about the game.

So by the time I was nine years old, I understood and could recall just about every game I had seen to that point. Like my dad, my stepfather was a football fan, too. But he was more of a college football fan.

He played college football before going off to the war so he loved everything about the game. He also had a love and passion for Clemson College.

After the war, he graduated from Clemson in 1949. He shared all of his stories with me about his time at Clemson and what made it so special. I was hooked. I loved Clemson as much as I did my Steelers. I developed a passion for both and I never missed listening on the radio or watching a game on television when either was on.

That’s why I can recall just about every moment of Clemson’s run to the 1981 National Championship. I remember hearing Jim Phillips’ call when Perry Tuttle made a diving catch by the right pylon in the end zone in the Tigers’ huge win over No. 4 Georgia.

I remember the Tigers shredding Kentucky and what a big deal that was, as well as Cliff Austin running all over Virginia on Homecoming. Then of course I remember how all 82 points were scored in the Wake Forest win. When the Tigers were 10-8acious at Chapel Hill, I watched the game on ABC in the den which was right off to the side of our kitchen in our Piedmont, S.C. home.

I also remember quarterback Homer Jordan having a career afternoon as the second-ranked Tigers humbled Maryland to clinch the ACC Championship a week later. Then I remember listening to Rod and Chuck McSwain turn the tide in Columbia to clinch a perfect regular season.

I was in that same den on January 1, 1982 watching the Orange Bowl win over Nebraska. I remember our entire family that day counting down the final seconds and then celebrating when the Tigers wrapped up the 1981 National Championship. It was a special night.

That football season is still a special year to me. As you can see in my picture below this column, I still collect memorabilia from the 1981 season. I still have a Clemson Orange Soda National Championship Can—and yes it is full—as well as other items I have collected over the years. Part of my man-cave at my home is dedicated to that year.

The 1981 season is the reason why I became a sportswriter. I have written about it in several articles and in my book, Clemson: Where the Tigers Play.

I have taken you on this trip down memory lane for this reason. During the World’s Largest Pizza Party on Sunday, Clemson head coach Dabo Swinney said something that sticks out to me. He told the estimated 30,000 that showed up at Death Valley to enjoy the ride.

He was right. The ride is what makes all of this so great. I am very fortunate that I was a nine-year old little boy when Clemson won the 1981 National Championship. That was a great ride. I will never forget it.

Now as a seasoned sportswriter, I am enjoying this ride in a different way. The 2015 Clemson Tigers have been a great one to cover.

So as Swinney so eloquently said at the World’s largest Pizza party on Sunday, “This is a celebration of this special team, and it is a celebration of Clemson University and what this place stands for and what it is all about.

“And it is Sunday, and I am going to give you a little word and it is something I believe in. It comes from Galatians 6:9. It says, ‘Do not grow weary from doing what is right and good. For at the appropriate time you will reap a harvest of blessings if you do not give up.’ This team has not grown weary. They have stayed the course and they have overcome all kinds of obstacles. What I want you to know is that this is our season of harvest, but it is just getting started.

“For these young men here, our season of harvest is for several years to come and we are going to enjoy every single second of it… God bless you! Go Tigers and enjoy every second of it because you deserve it!”