Editor’s note: This column is reprinted with permission by the Palm Beach Post. It originally ran in the Sept. 10 edition.

By Dave George

Palm Beach Post Staff Columnist

FORT WALTON BEACH — Suddenly, for the first time perhaps, Bobby Bowden looked 74. His laugh and his tan and his stubborn pursuit of a third national championship long have pushed attention away from this sort of petty record-keeping.

But Thursday morning, while filing past the caskets of his grandson and former son-in-law at the front of a hushed church, the coach of the Florida State Seminoles lacked the energy or the will to keep the neon caricature alight.

This was tragedy of the sort that no one can comprehend short of personal experience, and tragedy that few would be expected to endure in such a public setting. A capacity crowd of 1,100 filled the pews of the First Baptist Church of Fort Walton Beach for the memorial service, with the balcony packed out and a few dozen more left standing against the walls. A family gathering, you might call it, with all the little subsets of this beachfront Panhandle town forming a weeping wall of support.

There were the members of the Choctawhatchee High School football team, all wearing their green game jerseys and positioned on stage at either side of the school's tuxedoed Madrigal choir. Bowden Madden, 15, was a member of both groups until his death late Sunday night in an auto accident. What fun he would have had suiting up tonight for a home game against Niceville, and what joy his grandfather would have taken from hearing every detail.

Also present at the service were the Baby Boomers of Fort Walton Beach, those who grew up alongside John Allen Madden or cheered him on as a member of FSU's first top-10 teams or simply trusted their own children at some point to his youth league baseball and football coaching care. Madden, 45, was at the wheel of the car that bumped into a van on Interstate 10 and went skidding across the median into the path of a utility truck. Father and son were killed instantly.

Ginger Madden, one of Bobby and Ann Bowden's six children, is left to raise two sons on her own. She is an assistant state attorney in Fort Walton Beach whose 22-year marriage to Madden ended in divorce this year. Ginger's entrance to the sanctuary was preceded by a slide show presentation depicting happier times in the lives of the two men she has lost. If not for the sounds of sniffles throughout the room and the hum of the slide machine, it was almost quiet enough to hear those around you praying for relief.

Loss to Miami would be bearable

Florida State vs. Miami? That will be relief of some sort to Bobby tonight, even if the Seminoles suffer their sixth consecutive defeat in the series. As uncomfortable as that might be for Bowden, he knows it wouldn't be unbearable. The coach has not missed an FSU practice this week, flying into Fort Walton Beach from Tallahassee for the funeral and out again to Miami immediately following a private burial service on Thursday afternoon.

Preparation is an obsession with all football coaches. Yet there are some events in life for which there is no preparation. This FSU-Miami showdown, for instance, appears cursed, as if it were a game that never was meant to be played. Hurricane Frances' approach postponed it once and now another hurricane, Ivan, is wheeling in our general direction. What's more, the utility truck that collided with the car of John and Bowden Madden was traveling from Texas to assist in restoring electricity lines in South Florida downed by Frances.

Surely bits of these troubling thoughts crossed Bobby's mind as he sat in a center pew Thursday morning, sometimes placing his arm around the shoulders of Ann, his wife of 55 years, and sometimes leaning forward to accept her arm around his.

Here is a man who knows his way around a church. Bowden spends many off-season Sundays honoring invitations to speak at Methodist and Baptist worship services. It is a practice he began soon after arriving at FSU from West Virginia in 1976. In fact, First Baptist of Fort Walton Beach, as destiny dictates, was the first on his list as Seminoles coach. He lightened up the congregation with jokes that day and then, never shy about his faith, launched into a traditional salvation message. John Madden, a teenager who later would start at center in two Orange Bowl games for Bowden's FSU teams, was in attendance.

Thursday was so different, so brutally different, with Madden's FSU jersey draped over one casket in front of the church and his son's high school jersey draped over the other. Seven speakers, including Clemson coach Tommy Bowden, struggled through brief comments and, finally, it was Bobby's turn. Gamely, perhaps relying on instinct more than anything else, he tried with his first words to draw a smile from the sodden faces before him.

"Where is the restroom?" Bowden said into the microphone, an acknowledgement that he and everyone else had been seated for more than 90 minutes. That comment, so unexpected, left most wondering if they had misheard the coach, or else it flew right over their heads. Bowden plowed on after an awkward pause, saying how he had wanted to name his grandson "Puntrooskie" because the boy was born on the weekend of that famous FSU trick play against Clemson in 1988.

"Ginger told me, no, we're not Polish," Bowden said.

Next came the serious stuff, a foundation that was set like cement in Bowden's heart long ago, before any of his children or 21 grandchildren were born, before any of his storied coaching exploits were written.

"When I have my funeral," said Bobby, "y'all don't need to bother coming. I ain't gonna be here. Those two caskets down front, they represent something, but that's not where they are. They have a new body that will live forever. That's what I was taught and that's what I believe."

Before long the church was empty, the huge crowd moving to a nearby fellowship hall to meet with the family. Bowden quickly found his stride, slapping grown men on the back, grabbing small boys by the scruff of the neck to shake them playfully, complimenting women on their dresses and surveying the whole group for the consensus pick of the finger foods.

Bowdens must get back to life

Not like he was instantly back to normal, of course, just back to the hard work of living. Bowden won't look 74 anymore when he comes shuffling out of the tunnel at the Orange Bowl tonight. His brain will be buzzing with a new battle plan, and his ears straining to hear what's coming through the headset over the thunder of a sellout crowd. This, in fact, is what keeps Bobby young, what makes him a wonder.

Ginger's made of the same stuff. She made a surprise visit to the Choctawhatchee field house Tuesday afternoon to meet with her beloved son Bowden's former teammates. "I told them I wanted them to make Bowden proud," she said. "I told them to go home and kiss their brother and sister and kiss their mama and daddy and appreciate every minute they have together."

Here in the Bible Belt, where Bobby Bowden and football are natural elements of the environment, there is an old saying about the buttressing power of faith. Everyone in the world is either just coming out of a storm or they're just about to head through one, so the thing to do is get ready.

On this Friday night, situated in the breezeway between Frances and Ivan, comes two small and exhilarating squalls, FSU-Miami and Choctawhatchee-Niceville. Soak it all in, like Bobby will, and smile for all it's worth.