4/9/2020 football Edit

LETTERS FROM DABO - Part 3

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.

ALSO SEE: LETTERS FROM DABO - Part 1 | LETTERS FROM DABO - Part 2

Here is Part 3.

If time is going to gradually diminish the traumatic grief Don and Hayden Quattlebaum are coping with after their son's death, they're going to need a lot more of it.

Because with every day that passes, it seems they miss and love Andy more and more.

Andy's suicide, at age 22 on March 27th of last year, still doesn't make any sense to his father. Andy appeared to be loving life as a student in Clemson's Bridge program. He had a date planned two nights later. He and his father were texting back and forth about fishing plans for the summer. Clemson's football team was less than three months removed from a national championship, an event that brought Andy supreme joy.

Andy had sent out a Snapchat to his friends that night, telling them it wasn't their fault. He just couldn't take it anymore.

"One of his friends called him right away and talked to him for a while," his father said. "At the end of the conversation, Andy said, 'Well I'll be fine. Everything is fine.'

"It obviously wasn't."

Andy, the youngest of three siblings, was a lover of people, the outdoors and animals. And not necessarily in that order.

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Some family friends witnessed something they'd never seen before after Andy finished riding one of their horses: The horse whinnying and crying for a half-hour after Andy left.

Andy's dog, a yellow lab named Oak, is still visibly grieving the loss of his friend. They did everything together, including hunting back home near Pawleys Island and running the trails around Clemson.

Andy also loved girls. While tailgating before a Clemson game a few years ago, a family friend stopped by with a daughter who was a freshman attending her first game.

After a while, Don was impressed with the girl and whispered to Andy that he might consider getting to know her. Andy looked at his father like he was crazy.

"Dad," he said. "I got her number 15 minutes ago."

Before spring break during Andy's first year in Clemson, he called his parents and told them he'd be coming home to Pawleys for the week. And oh by the way, four girls would be staying in the guest house.

The girls had wanted to go to the beach. So Andy took them to the beach.

Andy also loved Clemson and Clemson football, both having been handed down to him from generations dating to Don's grandfather McQueen Quattlebaum (Class of 1909). Don's father Alexander McQueen Quattlebaum graduated from Clemson in 1934, was a professor of engineering until World War II and served on the Board of Trustees from 1958-74. Don is a 1976 Clemson grad.

Andy and his father were in Tampa when Clemson outlasted Alabama in a game for the ages.

Two years later, Don had a bit of a scheduling conflict when Clemson played Notre Dame in Dallas: His brother was getting married.

After careful consideration, Don concluded that his brother and bride-to-be would eventually forgive him. He took Andy to Texas and watched the Tigers drub the Irish 30-3.

It was the last game father and son attended together.

Andy watched Clemson's 44-16 dismantling of Alabama in the championship from College Avenue in downtown Clemson, celebrating with his friends and thousands of fans who watched it all on the big screen. He sent mom and dad a video of the giddy masses singing Queen's "We are the Champions."

"He said it was one of the best nights of his life," Don said.

The best part of Andy's Clemson-based college life was that he felt normal and embraced for who he was. When he started grade school, he was viewed as "different" because he was sensitive and a visual learner. He endured bullying, and later in life he suffered from severe anxiety and panic attacks.

So in a way he was starting over when he arrived for the Bridge program. He made many friends. When he turned 21, he sent his parents a video of him crowd-surfing.

His favorite part of that night? When his friends sang happy birthday to him.

Years earlier, when Andy was in the depths of depression, Don happened to meet Dabo Swinney through a mutual friend. The conversation veered into family territory and Don told Swinney about Andy's struggles.

Soon thereafter, Swinney mailed Andy a hand-written letter encouraging him to rise above his mistakes, challenging him to make the decision to focus on what he wanted most in life.

A couple years later, Don was at a Prowl and Growl event and in a long line of fans who approached Swinney to shake his hand.

Before Don could refresh Swinney's memory and re-establish the connection, the coach spoke up.

"He asked me: How is your son doing?" Don recalled. "I don't know how he could remember me from two years earlier given the eight million people he sees every day. He must have some kind of photographic memory or something.

"I've heard so many similar stories of people who are sick, and the things he does for them -- sees them, talks to them. This was just another example of him seeing people and being with people that needed help. And doing it just because that's the way he is."

Swinney also invited father and son to a spring practice and provided Andy with a bag of special items that included a signed football.

"Dabo just has this personality to -- I don't know the words -- to make immediate impressions on everybody," Don said. "I think meeting with him and being with him was a big help with Andy. There were times I didn't think Andy would ever make it into any college."

Andy's mother Hayden enjoyed a successful career as co-owner of the Pepsi-Cola Bottling Company of Conway, a family business her grandfather started in the 1930s.

Don and Hayden established the Andy Quattlebaum and Blackwell Family Foundation, pledging to make substantial gifts each year to support Andy's varied interests.

The first gift, of $2.7 million, allowed for the creation of the Andy Quattlebaum Outdoor Education Center on the shores of Lake Hartwell. Andy spent time at the place they call "Y Beach," venturing to the docks to check out the girls.

The 16,500-square-foot outdoor center was conceived as a national model for recreation and leisure space for students, a place that captures so many of Andy's passions.

Don gave a stirring speech at the dedication for the facility in January.

"Many of the things that Andy loved to do will be available to other students," Don said that day. "In this world where there is a growing concern for the environment and man's place in it, the more that people can learn about the outdoors and participate in all that it has to offer, the better chance that they will make better choices in life about the world around us."

Don's words that day also paid tribute to the coach whose caring and supportive gestures meant so much years earlier.

And still do.

"In addition to being a great football coach and a wonderful ambassador for Clemson, Dabo does so many things for people that are never heard about because he isn't doing it for publicity," Don said. "He's doing it because he cares."

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