4/7/2020 football Edit

LETTERS FROM DABO

Larry Williams

Tigerillustrated.com

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Dabo Swinney's extraordinary ability to lift a football program is known to everyone who even casually follows the sport.

But what about his gift, equally extraordinary, of lifting the spirits of those who are going through periods of struggle?

These to-date unpublicized gestures -- random acts of Dabo, if you will -- are very much worthy of being documented in a more official, complete form.

So Tigerillustrated.com reached out to a number of people who have shared their own behind-the-scenes stories with us.

Here is Part 1.

The letter reached his desk in mid-January of 2013, and Dabo Swinney had a lot going on.

First we must understand that this wasn't a time when Clemson fans would've unanimously voted to erect a statue of their head coach or give him a lifetime contract.

No, the jury was still out. Swinney and the Tigers had pulled off that magical upset of LSU in the bowl game, but the fact that almost no one expected Clemson to win that night tells you where the program was then compared to where it is now.

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Best coach in America? Swinney wasn't regarded as the best coach in his own division (Jimbo Fisher) or even his own state (Steve Spurrier).

There was no early signing period, meaning January into February was a feverishly busy time for coaches as they tried to complete a recruiting class.

So the fact that Swinney took time to read the letter from Ray Cartee might be considered remarkable in itself.

Cartee's mother, 82-year-old Dot, was battling Stage 4 cancer of the liver and lungs. Chemotherapy was getting the best of her not just physically, but mentally.

Dot and Ray's father lived in Easley, 20 minutes away from Clemson. Ray suggested that maybe Swinney could work out paying his mother a visit for 10 or 15 minutes if his schedule allowed.

If that wasn't possible, Ray wrote, he fully understood. A prayer alone from Swinney would be immensely appreciated.

A few weeks later, Ray got a call from Don Munson at Clemson. Swinney was going to be in Easley, and he had 30 minutes. This was two days before National Signing Day.

Dot was born in Winnsboro. Her brother, Wade Hall, played for Frank Howard from 1959 to 1963. Ten years after graduating high school, Dot and her husband Jim moved to Clemson so he could attend school.

Jim graduated Clemson in 1959, and during the four preceding years Dot worked in a textile mill while raising Ray's older brother and sister. Jim went on to a long, successful career with Shell Oil Company.

Ray graduated from Clemson in 1983, and some of his earliest and most enduring memories are tailgating and attending football games at Memorial Stadium. Those splendid fall Saturdays had been an extended-family ritual for decades.

By the 2012 season, Dot didn't have the strength to make that trip down Hwy. 123. At least one family member committed to staying back with her to watch the game on television, and before long the number of family members in the house outnumbered the number in Clemson at the tailgate.

She'd take naps before the game just to have the strength to make it through three-plus hours of watching Sammy, Tajh, Nuk and Clemson's first 11-win team since 1981.

"She would come out of her bedroom wearing orange," Ray recalled. "Inevitably, someone's chant of Sam-my! Sam-my! would put a smile on her face. She absolutely adored Sammy Watkins."

When Swinney was promoted to replace Tommy Bowden, the decision by Clemson's administration was met with far less than unanimously rave reviews. Nationally, pundits and fans of other schools wondered what in the world Clemson was thinking. Even a significant number of Clemson fans had strong reservations about promoting an assistant from a failed staff who hadn't even been a coordinator.

Some people remember Swinney's first game, when he kissed the rock and pointed to the sky before taking on Georgia Tech in October of 2008, as the crystallizing moment when everyone came together and started believing.

That is revisionist history. The truth is it took years for the adoration of Swinney to become universal among Clemson fans. The truth is that on that day against Georgia Tech and well beyond, plenty of fans looked down at that coach patrolling the sidelines and thought: "What are we doing?"

But some people did believe fully from the start that this man was exactly what Clemson needed, a figure who could galvanize an entire fan base around the idea that Clemson could not just win consistently, but win big, and do it all with a model and a culture that would be the envy of college football.

Dot was one of those people. She told family and friends back in 2008: "He is the right man for the job. He is a good man."

That same man, in February of 2013, walked through the front door of Dot's home. Her family had told her to prepare for a special guest, but she had no idea it was going to be this special a guest.

"He walked over to mom and said: 'You must be Dot,'" Ray recalled. "She practically leapt into his arms. She was just blown away."

A half hour passed. Then an hour. Recruiting could wait: Swinney spent almost two hours sitting with the woman he called "Miss Dot."

He looked her in the eyes and held her hand the entire time. He gave her a cross that he told her had special meaning for him.

"Dabo told us about his life struggles and shared some of the things he had been through as far as illnesses in his family," Ray said. "He talked about the strength of prayer and the strength of God. He provided mom with the inspiration to keep on fighting."

At some point during the visit, Ray realized that this wasn't merely something his mother needed. The three siblings and father, going through their own stages of emotional grief and exhaustion, were desperate for something to latch onto also.

"We needed it as much as mom did," Ray said. "We all needed to be lifted up. We all needed inspiration. It had been a battle for all of us to watch mom go through what she was going through."

Dot lived far longer than was expected at the time, passing a little more than a year later in March of 2014 at age 83. Ray said his mother talked about Swinney's visit every day until her last day.

Swinney sent handwritten notes following up after his visit. He and Kathleen sent a peace lily to the funeral.

The plant sits behind Ray at his home office in the Atlanta area.

Six years later, the peace lily lives on. And so does the impact of Swinney's desire to reach out and inspire.

Dot supported Dabo from the beginning.

Dabo supported Dot until the end.

"I think he does things like this because he truly believes Clemson people are a part of the Clemson family," Ray said. "I get asked about Dabo all the time by people, fans of other schools. And I tell them this story frequently. What I always say is that Dabo is a man who walks the walk. He leads by example. He is exactly the man that he comes across as on TV, and I'm living proof of that. I would run through a brick wall for the guy if he asked me."

We will release another story in part II of this special series tomorrow.