As Paul Harvey would say...

Here's the rest of the story from my previous post (This is copied and pasted straight from my dad's email. As suspected, I didn't do the story justice!):

Okay, I read your blog about the 1990 'Bama / UT game...here is the story...

When the pain struck (just as Phillip Doyle's game-winning field goal passed through the uprights), I was actually holding my arms up and jumping up and down. When the pain hit I sat down and was quietly holding my chest. Some lady in front of me turned around with plans to "high-five" me, but saw that I was sitting on the bleacher holding my chest. She started screaming something about me having a heart attack. I was trying to tell them that I would be fine, but no one heard me. The next thing I knew, they had me stretched out on
the bleacher and they were all screaming for paramedics to come.

As I lay on the bleacher, I heard one of my buddies say "Get his wallet, he hasn't paid his share on the motel room."

Medics came, put me on a stretcher and carried me down the stands and onto the playing field sideline. One of my buddies accompanied me and the medics. Once we reached the playing field sideline, they placed the stretcher and me on one of those little golf cart ambulance kind of things. Then we traveled the length of the field from endzone to endzone as fast as the little golf cart ambulance thing would run. My friend was
running along beside the cart because he was unable to turn it loose as his watch or ring or some piece of jewelry had become hung on a bolt or screw or something. The cart was traveling faster than he could run, so his feet were only hitting the ground about every 6 or 7 yards or so.

After traveling the length of the field, we finally went inside the ground level concourse where we slowed a little and my buddy thought he might get to catch his breath. Not so...we then began a long, steady climb to about the third or fourth level concourse where the First Aid Room and Doctors were located. When we finally arrive there, my buddy was in much worse shape than I was. No one, however, seemed concerned about him.

As for me, I knew I was in trouble as all the doctors
and nurses and first aid personnel were dressed in that gosh awful UT orange. My buddy and I were the only ones there dressed in Crimson. I was asked to place a nitroglycerin tablet under my tongue and told a doctor would check on me shortly. Very soon the orange clad doc was standing beside me. I described my pain to him and he asked "What happened just before you started to feel the pain, did you get excited or
anything?" To which I responded, "Doc, did you see that dadgum (slightly cleaned up) football game?"

The doctor, not wanting to fool with me any longer, called for a real ambulance and had me transported to University Medical Center, where they ran numerous tests and concluded that I had suffered some unknown "event," but it was not a heart attack. I was then released to go pay my share of the motel bill!