JACKSONVILLE, Fla. — Thanks, Bobby.
That's all.
Just thanks.
Thanks for being accessible. Thanks for being accommodating. Thanks for making time for the fans and the sports writers and everybody else.
Thanks for treating everybody like they were your best friend — even us ink-stained critics who chastised you for staying too long and ripped you for hiring your son.
"I feel like I have had very fair treatment," the legendary Bobby Bowden said as he got up to leave his final news conference following his career-ending 33-21 victory over West Virginia in the Gator Bowl.
Then he picked me out of a standing-room-only crowd and deadpanned: "Bianchi, even from you I've had fair treatment. ... Bianchi wrote some of the toughest ones and I guarantee he's written some of the best ones I've ever had."
Am I'm bragging?
You dadgum right I'm bragging. I got singled-out in The Legend's final news conference. That's the biggest thrill a sports writer can have this side of a full tray of jumbo shrimp at the Super Bowl hospitality tent.
It's no wonder the media gave Bowden a standing ovation as he walked out of the room and into retirement Friday.
You see, college football didn't just lose one of its greatest coaches Friday.
It lost its best friend.
College football is a much more joyless, paranoid place today. The sport is now left to stony, standoffish coaches like Nick Saban and Urban Meyer — driven and intense men who lock down their programs like a prison camp.
Bobby always opened his up like a church picnic.
Bobby is so darn candid, he even confirmed, albeit jokingly, the rumors about financial problems from some bad real-estate investments.
During his news conference, he looked over at wife Ann and said, "Should I tell them about all that land we bought? Oh, man, I'm land poor. I bought a lot of land and it ain't selling worth a crap."
Can you imagine any other coach telling us about his personal finances? Heck, today's coaches are trying their best to separate themselves from the fans and media. They have cut way back on summer booster tours and weekly radio shows. Not Bobby. He's done his call-in radio show nearly every week for 34 seasons. He did a full booster tour last spring. He even appears at a weekly luncheon for the fans and hosts a "Breakfast with Bobby" for the media the morning after every home game.
Can you imagine "Breakfast with Urban?" It would start at 4 a.m. and everybody would be served one corn flake.
It's just too bad Bobby Legend had to go out in the Gator Bowl playing for nothing except a winning record. He should have been going out in the Rose Bowl playing for the national championship. With all due respect to our friends in Jacksonville, Bobby Bowden ending his career in the Gator Bowl is like the Beatles playing their final concert at the Holiday Inn Lounge in East Scranton.
Even so, FSU's fans, players and former players made it a memorable day for the man who not only put their program on the map, he drew the map.
Before the game, Bowden performed the ceremonial planting of Chief Osceola's flaming spear. After the game, following one failed attempt, he finally got a ride off the field on the shoulders of his players.
"At first they must have sent the littlest guys we had," Bowden cracked. "They couldn't even lift me up."
The Gator Bowl also orchestrated a "Seminole Walk" so FSU fans could pay tribute to Bowden and his team as they entered the stadium. Nearly 5,000 fans braved the cold, pelting rain and chanted "Bob-by! Bob-by!" as the coach ambled his way into the stadium followed by his current players and nearly 350 former players.
"For Coach Bowden, I'd come out in the rain, sleet or snow," said former FSU quarterback Danny Kanell.
"This isn't a game; it's an event," former linebacker Derrick Brooks said.
Cracked Bowden about taking part in the pre-game walk: "I just hope that walk don't lead to the cemetery."
That's Bobby — always disarming and quick with a one-liner even in the most uncomfortable of situations. And there's no question his exit has been uncomfortable. He admitted Friday he wanted one more season "but couldn't have it." He admitted he wanted desperately to get to 400 wins (he has 389) and now won't get that opportunity.
Although it was clearly time for Bowden to retire, it doesn't make his departure any less depressing. As his news conference came to end, Ann, his wife of 60 years, walked up to the microphone, gave her husband a big kiss and said, "It's time to go home, baby."
And then Bobby Bowden, with all his warmth and kindness, walked off into a Garnet and Gold sunset.
It should come as no surprise that the temperatures in Jacksonville dropped toward freezing Friday night.
College football has become a much colder place.