Clinton, South Carolina, Wednesday, December 20, 2017, 3:30 p.m.

One characteristic of most ivory towers is that they are imaginary.

Last night, I was on the top floor of an ornate Greenville building, nibbling away at finger foods and hobnobbing with former football players and coaches who served at the foot of the inimitable Cally Gault.

It was a privilege, particularly since I didn’t even attend Presbyterian College and was there because someone invited me. I have merely known Coach Gault for almost my entire life. What made the affair, held to honor Cally for reaching the illustrious age of 90, so meaningful was at least a dozen ways he represents the declining nobility of intercollegiate athletics.

Today PC football is under siege and bound for planned oblivion. Most everyone there had this on their minds, but they commiserated among themselves in private because they didn’t want to detract from the grace of the affair and its honoree. Everyone there loved Cally. Most everyone there wanted to attest to it publicly. No one wanted to dwell on the sordid and disgraceful present. What Cally devoted his life to building is being euthanized.

Cally defines the word “affable.” He played for the Blue Hose in the 1940s, coached them in the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s, kept on running the athletic department for many years afterwards, and still attends football and basketball games. Many legends have passed through PC athletics. Not even Walter Johnson and Lonnie McMillian stood the test of time like Cally. In 22 seasons, Cally’s teams won 127 games, lost 101 and tied seven.

I’ve never known a coach exactly like Cally, though he and Art Baker, once Blue Hose teammates, are pretty close. Art was there. So were Stanley Gruber, Bobby Norris, Herman Jackson, Jimmy Spence, Elliott Paulling, Derek Wessinger, Elijah Ray, Bruce Ollis, Keith Richardson, Del Barksdale, John Perry, John Cann, Robbie Strickland, Sandy Cruickshanks, Ronnie Hollier, Mike Turner, and so many more I wish someone had provided a roster.

Most of them poked fun at Cally, who can still roar with the best of them in laughter. Much of the humor originated in the days when he roared on the football field, occasionally a bit too vehemently to make sense.

Toasts were raised. Meanwhile, Presbyterian College football is being toasted. Who knew? Not many of those present knew until it became a fait accompli.

Now PC is adding wrestling for men and women. And acrobatics, tumbling, and competitive cheerleading. How can that be competitive with nothing to cheer?

It occurred to me, observing all the love in the room, that it wasn’t directed at the ivory tower and the latest master plan that originated there. It was for people – Cally Gault, Bob Strock, Billy Tiller, Marshall Brown, Jim Skinner, Bill Cannon, Tom Stallworth, Ed Campbell – who aren’t on the faculty and staff anymore. The love for PC is not unconditional. It isn’t automatic. It is being torn asunder.

In the ivory tower, they believe what they are doing is wise. It’s hard to find anyone outside the ivory tower who believes a word of it. The people outside the ivory tower think those in it have lost their damned minds.

My GoLaurens/GoClinton feature on the gathering is here.

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