TUPATALK: Perspective from the top of the stadium

I won’t bore you with most of my dating disasters from my younger years.

But, there was one, directly involved with sports, that still brings a smile or a tear to my life.

It took place in 1984, during my time as one of Uncle Sam’s “Few and Proud,” at the Marine Corps Air Station in Kaneohe, Hawaii.

BYU — my favorite team — was slated to visit Oahu to play the University of Hawaii at Aloha Stadium. I forked over upwards of $50 to another Marine to buy two tickets for me (this was well before online ticket purchases).

I hadn’t even secured a date for the game when I obtained the ducats. During this period, a civilian family, whose father worked with the military, moved into Kaneohe and in the boundaries of my church congregation. One of his daughters, the middle one, was in college. Gathering every bit of emotional courage I could, I asked her out to go to the game.

To my surprise, she accepted.

Next up, I had to borrow someone’s car. Most Marines that lived on base didn’t possess a vehicle, including a couple of them that worked in the same area as me.

I persuaded a young lady Marine — who hailed from Chicago — into letting me use her car for the date.

As the big day neared, my excitement mushroomed. This would be both the first time I would see BYU play live, as well as my first date with this intelligent and pleasant young lady.

The co-worker who agreed to loan me her car took it off base on the Friday before the Saturday game, but told me she would be back in time Saturday for me to pick it up.

At first, the hours seemed to scrape by that Saturday like a snail crawling over broken glass. But, then the storm cloud gathered.

I went outside in mid-morning to check the parking lot for the promised chariot. It wasn’t there. Time passed.It will wasn’t there — and a slow, desperate panic began to set in, ripening into a mania of anxiety.

Finally, just a couple of hours before I had to pick my date up, I nervously sought out another co-worker that had a car. I caught him just as he was piling into somebody else’s car for a night on the town. After a fair amount of begging, he gave me his keys.

Things would get worse.

I drove over immediately to the base gas station to fuel up — and I didn’t have the gas cap key. I tore back to the barracks and the guy and his friends were just pulling out, but I managed to stop them and get the key.

By this juncture, time to get ready was growing very short — and I was a distressed wreck.

On the way to her house, I stopped at the PX to buy a map of Honolulu. My mind was a sticky mess by now. I feared if I left the tickets in the car someone would steal them. So, I carried them into the store.

After purchasing the map, made the short drive out the back gate to my date’s residence. But, a terrible thought nagged me just before I got there. Where had I put the tickets?

(Note: Part two of this column is planned for Tuesday's sports pages.)

This article originally appeared on Bartlesville Examiner-Enterprise: TupaTalk column