By MONTE DUTTON

NORTH AUGUSTA – It was hot, not unlike football practices 40 years ago. It led me to words written by Tom T. Hall, paraphrased to reflect the passage of time.

Was that only yesterday or 40 years ago?

Lions Park was where it mostly began for Dick Sheridan, playing ball for Cally Gault at North Augusta High School. As with remarks attributed by William Shakespeare to Marc Antony, a crowd gathered not to bury Caesar but to praise him.

The Furman contingent was larger than the North Carolina State assemblage, but Raleigh is a lot farther away than Greenville, and many who played and coached with Sheridan for the Paladins coached with the Wolfpack, and men who accompanied Sheridan in the high-school check points – North Augusta, Orangeburg-Wilkinson and Airport – made their farewells. Former Laurens coach Buddy Jennings was there. A lovely cemetery – adorned with red flowers and emerald magnolias – overlooked the proceedings from beyond the scoreboard, which mysteriously read Home 17, Visitors 13.

At least five college head coaches – Ted Cain (VMI), Robbie Caldwell (Vanderbilt), Bobby Johnson (Furman, Vandy), Bobby Lamb (Furman, Mercer, Anderson) and Mike O’Cain (Murray State, N.C. State) – attended, as well as an athletics director, Eric Hyman (TCU, South Carolina, Texas A&M), and, by my count, 13 Furman hall of famers. One was basketball star Al Daniel. I remember when Hyman coached the Furman defensive line and Caldwell the offensive.

Undoubtedly, I have omitted some. Sheridan’s sons, Bobby and Jon, were dutifully managing the whole scene, and a grandson performed the national anthem, Jimi Hendrix style, on electric guitar.

Media colleagues Phil Kornblut and Tim Peeler paid their respects. Fathers and sons, brothers, NFL veterans and men who barely played in college, converged on the old stadium as if the Masters was in progress across the Savannah. I chatted with players I see at another stadium, Paladin, at most of the home games in the fall, and a few I haven’t seen in 40 years.

It was long, hot, rained a while, and every second was worth it.

My Furman friend of 45 years, Bernard Durham, drove down from Chantilly, Va., picked me up in Clinton, and I enjoyed a round trip’s worth of conversation as much as anything else. Gary Balas came down from Illinois.

Bernard remains a better man than I. He drove on, headed back to northern Virginia. I got home at 4 and didn’t feel normal again until about 7.

Sheridan’s spirit lives on. He was a force of nature.

If you like my style, please support the coverage by making a contribution to DHK Sports, P.O. Box 768, Clinton, S.C. 29325, or, by becoming a patron, or, indirectly, by buying one of my books at Monte Dutton.net. Many thanks to those who support me.