Moving the Chains: The Kindest Man I Never Met

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I’ve been writing a weekly sports column, Moving the Chains, since the beginning of the 2019 college football season.  Since then, I’ve received a fair share of feedback from readers.  Most of it has been positive, although there was one notable exception that earned its author the dubious distinction of earning the dedication in my book, Moving the Chains, 2019 – 2024: six years that changed the landscape of college football.   

But there is one letter that will always stand out.  It was from Butch (his nickname) of Peachtree City, Georgia.  For reasons I can’t explain, it really made an impression.

‘I always look forward to ‘Moving the Chains.’  I’m an 83-year-old that prefers to follow college sports (and in particular football).’  He said the first thing he looks for when he opens the newspaper is my column; the rest of the paper he hands over to Mary, his wife of 61 years.  But that wasn’t made the impression.  It was what he said after that.        

Butch told me about his family.  Moved from Albany, New York to south Louisiana in 1975.  Lived in every state in contact with the Gulf.  Both sons are graduates of SEC schools (LSU and South Carolina).  Was himself a Michigan alum, and will always be a ‘BIG TEN DIEHARD.’ 

Butch even made it a point ‘not to mention’ where the National Championship trophy has resided for the last three years.  Obviously, ‘not mentioning’ it was his subtle way of rubbing in the fact that the Big Ten has overtaken the SEC (where my alma mater resides) as the best conference in college football – which is precisely what I would have said had I been in his shoes.  It was also the exact moment I knew that he and I would get along just fine.

Butch wrote about a wonderful and enlightening his recent visit to Spurrier’s Gridiron Grille in Gainesville, Florida, he made with his son.  He suggested that readers of my column would ‘really appreciate an article’ and ‘let them know they’d love to stop by’ to ‘enjoy great food and look around.’   That last part about ‘looking around’ was a reference to the wonderful museum of Florida Gator memorabilia that complements the restaurant.       

‘No matter who they (the readers) root for, this is a must for ALL college football crazies,’ he said.

Being one of those crazies he was referring to, I took him up on his offer.  (You may remember that my wife and I recently had dinner and a tour at Spurrier’s, which resulted in a series of three columns that were published in this very newspaper.) 

After the first column was published, I immediately heard back from Butch.  ‘You nailed it.’  Similar compliments also followed the second – ‘Well done’ – and third – ‘You get an A+!’ – columns.  Butch said he was sharing my columns with his son (who was with him at Spurrier’s) and his ‘Sports Buddies.’  

Since the alma maters of both Butch and I had basketball teams playing in the NCAA tournament, we made a bet that whoever’s team lost first would treat the other to coffee.  If both teams made it to the Sweet Sixteen, we’d up the ante and make it for lunch.  

Florida lost in the second round.  Michigan, on the other hand, went all the way and won the National Championship.  As the Wolverines were cutting down the nets shortly after midnight on April 6, Butch sent me a quick note: ‘I am currently CELEBRATING!’      

Butch and I agreed to meet for lunch, but he said it would have to wait until after Easter.  Something about his ‘annual Lenten choice.’    

A few days after Easter, I emailed Butch and invited him to our house for lunch.  I told him I thought he would enjoy seeing our Gator Room which, like Spurrier’s, has a good bit of Florida memorabilia as well.  Not only that, I wanted him to meet my wife.  

Several days went by, and there was no word from Butch.  It wasn’t like him.  In our correspondence, he had always been prompt in responding.  Concerned, I sent a follow up note asking if he was OK.  Still no reply. 

My gut told me something was wrong.  So I googled his name.  An obituary popped up.  

What I saw literally took my breath away.  

Edwin T. ‘Butch’ Hill passed away at home on April 11, 2026.

I continued reading.  I hung on every word that was written about the man I thought I would be spending a lot of time in the days ahead discussing our mutual affinity for college sports.  I discovered the image of Butch I had in my mind – that he was a good, good man – was spot on. 

To fully understand the title of this piece, I encourage you to read his obituary.  He just might be the kindest man you never met as well.

Butch passed away four short days after he sent me his midnight note to let me know he was celebrating.  He’d ended it with two words reflecting his passion for his alma mater.  ‘GO BLUE.’

Although Butch and I traded numerous emails and spoke over the phone several times, we never had the opportunity to meet in person.  I was really looking forward to exchanging stories about college sports with one another.  And, of course, sharing our opinions.  

Even more so, I wanted to meet him because I could tell he was just as passionate about college sports as I am.  Perhaps even more. 

And, as I mentioned earlier, I just knew he was a good, good man.  

Rest in peace, Mr. Hill.   

And GO BLUE!