The following was written shortly after State defeated Vandy for the national championship. We buried my dad yesterday in Attala County not too far from where he was born and not terribly far from Starkville. Then later for the first time, I listened to a Mississippi State broadcast without my father in my life. It's kinda weird.
I have no memory of a time before MS State athletics. From an early age the voice of Jack Cristil was imprinted on my brain as just a part of life. I recognized his voice before I even knew who he was, what he was or what MSU was. My dad was the first of his family to graduate from college. It took him a few extra years. Grades were never a problem but money was. I think his family had enough money to send him for one year at State then he was more or less on his own. It took dropping out and working, stents at Meridian Junior College and Hinds Junior College, then returning to State, but dad graduated in the early sixties with a degree in accounting. He met my mom at “The W”, married and then I came along in 1967. MS State was his team and we were a MS State family.
Dad grew up on a small dairy farm in Attala County, plowing a mule and milking cows. He went to school at Ethel where he eventually played half back, defensive back and point guard for the Tigers. He was president of his senior class and either Valedictorian or Salutatorian if I remember correctly. Mom was an all-conference guard on the basketball team and a Homecoming Queen at Ethel High. She was probably the best athlete in the family. To this day I have never beaten her at a game of “Horse”
When I was young MS State sports came to us mostly through the radio. It was football and basketball usually. I don’t really remember many baseball broadcasts. When I was very little I would ask which team my dad was for then I would pick the other one and root for them. I am not really sure why I did this, but I do remember taking great joy in it. I think it was a playful baiting of the old man to see what he would do. Whatever the case as time went by I became a diehard bulldog fan. I wore my pride on my sleeve, had my own cowbell and for years believed MSU was the greatest team in the world. It was probably middle school or so that I started to realize MSU was not the greatest team in the world and at times we were downright bad.
In my later teens although still a diehard fan, I started to run the teams down a bit. Dad never would and it began to infuriate me. The worst he might say was that “The boys just weren’t up for this one” or “Alabama is just too tough this year”. He would say something like “We had Auburn for three quarters but they were just too deep for us. Our starters are just as good as theirs.” Or, “We’ve got one of the toughest schedules in the country”. To me it all just sounded like excuses, and I guess they were. I thought then if I owned it and stated out loud how bad we were that I was somehow better, somehow more grounded in reality. I remember one time after a particularly bad loss, when I was berating him over his “excuses” that I finally got him to say basically we did suck. I don’t remember exactly what he said in his surrender, but I do remember distinctly that it didn’t really make me feel that good.
When it came time for me to start sports, I seemed to play the odd ones. I started with my town’s first soccer league and loved it. Mom and dad knew nothing about it but threw themselves behind the sport. Through at least my college years the only time I ever missed an opening day of dove season was when we were all sodding my hometown’s first soccer field. It is still there to this day. Then in the sixth grade we took an end of the year field trip to the city park. I had a baseball bat, glove and cleats but spent not one minute on the diamond. I don’t remember exactly how I got there, but at some point early in the day I borrowed a racquet and got on the tennis courts. I had to play in my sock feet but stayed the entire time. I don’t think I even ate lunch that day. I wore the bottoms out of my socks and from then on I was a tennis player. I fell in love with the sport. Mom got me a racquet and that summer she would take me to the city park, drop me off (you could still do that with a kid then) and I would play whoever came up. If no one showed I would hit against the wall. I would stay between 4-6 hours a day. Tennis became my sport. I had some modest success and won a 3A State Title my senior year. I then enrolled at State but about two weeks before class started, I got a call from a small NAIA school in TN. Coach Puddie Ruff from Tupelo (an arch rival) had recommended me to the NAIA coach when he called her looking for players. I owe her to this day. Anyway, at the last minute I went to TN, tried out, and was given an offer I couldn’t refuse. To this moment I wouldn’t trade my time playing small college tennis for anything.
Truth be told, I generally under performed in my playing years. More often than not when I had opportunities to really step up and take that next step, I would choke and lose to players I could have beaten. I always thought it would get better but it never really did. The monkey stayed on my back. Similar to how I looked at MS State, I thought if I owned my weakness that I would somehow overcome it, or at the very least I was being real, owning what was really there. What happened though was that I became an *******. I talked myself down and even got to where I couldn’t take genuine compliments from people regarding my play without saying something negative in response. It was self-defeating really. It helped nothing.
My dad however, never said a negative thing about my play or my underlying weakness. He never berated me but more often would say something like “You had him right to the end”. “You are just as good as that guy or you are getting better and better”. I remember distinctly him saying “You will come through when the chips are down, when it’s important.” I’m not sure what he meant by that last one. If he meant tennis, I never overcame it. If he meant meeting those important responsibilities in life like to family (Which is what I think he meant), I like to think I have done that. Whatever the case, I know win or lose he was always fiercely proud of me and is to this day. I am embarrassed to say I was in my 30’s before I put together how he handled the shortcomings of his team, MSU, and his son, two things that he loved dearly. It was the same way. One can say he accepted mediocrity and that’s an easy point to make for those of you not so burdened. But, I don’t look at it that way in the least anymore. There is something more noble there. So as I’ve aged I’ve taken after my father more and more. I am slow to berate State for a bad loss and I am quick to celebrate a good win or a good effort even when we don’t carry the day
Dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s this year and it has been tough for us all. He has handled it with grace even though I know it is hard on him. He is still teaching me things even if we have traded places a bit. When State was on the ropes against Virginia and things looked bleak I went to bed. I gave up. I had seen it all before. When I learned of the comeback the next morning I called home. It’s hard for dad to talk on the phone now, but I talked to mom. I asked if dad knew we had come from behind and won? She said, “Oh yes, he watched every play. He never gave up.” That has stuck with me.
We watched the final game this year together as State finally brought home a national championship. I cannot say how happy I am that he got to see it and we now get to talk about it as best we can. He’s my dad, as always The Bulldog Man for better or worse.
The Bulldog Man
I have no memory of a time before MS State athletics. From an early age the voice of Jack Cristil was imprinted on my brain as just a part of life. I recognized his voice before I even knew who he was, what he was or what MSU was. My dad was the first of his family to graduate from college. It took him a few extra years. Grades were never a problem but money was. I think his family had enough money to send him for one year at State then he was more or less on his own. It took dropping out and working, stents at Meridian Junior College and Hinds Junior College, then returning to State, but dad graduated in the early sixties with a degree in accounting. He met my mom at “The W”, married and then I came along in 1967. MS State was his team and we were a MS State family.
Dad grew up on a small dairy farm in Attala County, plowing a mule and milking cows. He went to school at Ethel where he eventually played half back, defensive back and point guard for the Tigers. He was president of his senior class and either Valedictorian or Salutatorian if I remember correctly. Mom was an all-conference guard on the basketball team and a Homecoming Queen at Ethel High. She was probably the best athlete in the family. To this day I have never beaten her at a game of “Horse”
When I was young MS State sports came to us mostly through the radio. It was football and basketball usually. I don’t really remember many baseball broadcasts. When I was very little I would ask which team my dad was for then I would pick the other one and root for them. I am not really sure why I did this, but I do remember taking great joy in it. I think it was a playful baiting of the old man to see what he would do. Whatever the case as time went by I became a diehard bulldog fan. I wore my pride on my sleeve, had my own cowbell and for years believed MSU was the greatest team in the world. It was probably middle school or so that I started to realize MSU was not the greatest team in the world and at times we were downright bad.
In my later teens although still a diehard fan, I started to run the teams down a bit. Dad never would and it began to infuriate me. The worst he might say was that “The boys just weren’t up for this one” or “Alabama is just too tough this year”. He would say something like “We had Auburn for three quarters but they were just too deep for us. Our starters are just as good as theirs.” Or, “We’ve got one of the toughest schedules in the country”. To me it all just sounded like excuses, and I guess they were. I thought then if I owned it and stated out loud how bad we were that I was somehow better, somehow more grounded in reality. I remember one time after a particularly bad loss, when I was berating him over his “excuses” that I finally got him to say basically we did suck. I don’t remember exactly what he said in his surrender, but I do remember distinctly that it didn’t really make me feel that good.
When it came time for me to start sports, I seemed to play the odd ones. I started with my town’s first soccer league and loved it. Mom and dad knew nothing about it but threw themselves behind the sport. Through at least my college years the only time I ever missed an opening day of dove season was when we were all sodding my hometown’s first soccer field. It is still there to this day. Then in the sixth grade we took an end of the year field trip to the city park. I had a baseball bat, glove and cleats but spent not one minute on the diamond. I don’t remember exactly how I got there, but at some point early in the day I borrowed a racquet and got on the tennis courts. I had to play in my sock feet but stayed the entire time. I don’t think I even ate lunch that day. I wore the bottoms out of my socks and from then on I was a tennis player. I fell in love with the sport. Mom got me a racquet and that summer she would take me to the city park, drop me off (you could still do that with a kid then) and I would play whoever came up. If no one showed I would hit against the wall. I would stay between 4-6 hours a day. Tennis became my sport. I had some modest success and won a 3A State Title my senior year. I then enrolled at State but about two weeks before class started, I got a call from a small NAIA school in TN. Coach Puddie Ruff from Tupelo (an arch rival) had recommended me to the NAIA coach when he called her looking for players. I owe her to this day. Anyway, at the last minute I went to TN, tried out, and was given an offer I couldn’t refuse. To this moment I wouldn’t trade my time playing small college tennis for anything.
Truth be told, I generally under performed in my playing years. More often than not when I had opportunities to really step up and take that next step, I would choke and lose to players I could have beaten. I always thought it would get better but it never really did. The monkey stayed on my back. Similar to how I looked at MS State, I thought if I owned my weakness that I would somehow overcome it, or at the very least I was being real, owning what was really there. What happened though was that I became an *******. I talked myself down and even got to where I couldn’t take genuine compliments from people regarding my play without saying something negative in response. It was self-defeating really. It helped nothing.
My dad however, never said a negative thing about my play or my underlying weakness. He never berated me but more often would say something like “You had him right to the end”. “You are just as good as that guy or you are getting better and better”. I remember distinctly him saying “You will come through when the chips are down, when it’s important.” I’m not sure what he meant by that last one. If he meant tennis, I never overcame it. If he meant meeting those important responsibilities in life like to family (Which is what I think he meant), I like to think I have done that. Whatever the case, I know win or lose he was always fiercely proud of me and is to this day. I am embarrassed to say I was in my 30’s before I put together how he handled the shortcomings of his team, MSU, and his son, two things that he loved dearly. It was the same way. One can say he accepted mediocrity and that’s an easy point to make for those of you not so burdened. But, I don’t look at it that way in the least anymore. There is something more noble there. So as I’ve aged I’ve taken after my father more and more. I am slow to berate State for a bad loss and I am quick to celebrate a good win or a good effort even when we don’t carry the day
Dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s this year and it has been tough for us all. He has handled it with grace even though I know it is hard on him. He is still teaching me things even if we have traded places a bit. When State was on the ropes against Virginia and things looked bleak I went to bed. I gave up. I had seen it all before. When I learned of the comeback the next morning I called home. It’s hard for dad to talk on the phone now, but I talked to mom. I asked if dad knew we had come from behind and won? She said, “Oh yes, he watched every play. He never gave up.” That has stuck with me.
We watched the final game this year together as State finally brought home a national championship. I cannot say how happy I am that he got to see it and we now get to talk about it as best we can. He’s my dad, as always The Bulldog Man for better or worse.
