To lose one Billy in a week—Ole Miss legend Billy Brewer at age 83 May 12—is disturbing. To lose two in a week—Billy Cannon, the greatest LSU Tiger of them all, died this morning, May 20, at 80—is completely disheartening.

Maybe it’s a blessing that he passed away on the 20^th, the same number as his retired LSU jersey. Should make it easy each springtime for fans to remember and to smile, which Dr. Cannon spent the majority of his life causing LSU fans to do.

On the final Saturday of June in 2009, I rode with Dub and Bert Jones — the only father-son duo in the Louisiana Sports Hall of Fame (LSHOF)—and Dr. Pat Garrett, representing his LSHOF father, Hoss Garrett—from Ruston to the annual LSHOF Induction Ceremony in Natchitoches to help honor Ruston sportswriter Buddy Davis, winner of the Louisiana Sports Writers Association Distinguished Service Award that year.

(Bert drove us from Ruston to Natchitoches in Dr. Garrett’s wife’s SUV; all Dr. Garrett did was keep his hands on the wheel. It’s another story for another time. The whole trip was like being in a Carol Burnett skit.)

So at the back of the Natchitoches Special Events Center as everyone was visiting pre-ceremony, I stood with Dr. Garrett and Dr. Billy Cannon as they caught up. The two had raced against each other twice, with Dr. Cannon nipping Dr. Pat in the final two or three yards both times. Keep in mind Dr. Garrett led Tech to a conference track and field championship, holds the record at Louisiana Tech for the 100-yard dash, and racing for Tech against the University of Arkansas at the Byrd High track back in the day, beat future Hall-of-Famer Lance Alworth in the 100.

“How much did you beat him by?” I asked Dr. Garrett once.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I didn’t look back.”

These cocky speed runner guys…

Dr. Garrett has a picture at his camp, taken head-on at the finish line, of Cannon, his massive chest out and hitting the tape just ahead of Dr. Garrett, who might have weighed 120 pounds. Cannon is all rippling muscle, calves like columns tapering to an ankle you could probably wrap your fingers around. He was Herschel Walker 20 years before Herschel Walker was Herschel Walker. It’s that power that enabled him to explode and to catch guys at the tape. He was most famous for winning the silver anniversary Heisman Trophy and of course returning The Punt to beat Ole Miss, Halloween night 1959 (two weeks after I was born), but he was quite the track and field contributor too, and a freakish sprinter extraordinaire.

Dr. Garrett did graduate work at LSU and helped coach the track team and became good friends with Dr. Cannon and his bestie, Boots Garland, who was in charge of the athletic dorm during Cannon’s playing days and became a favorite of just about everyone who knew him and an excellent track coach and a speed coach of some renown. (After a long life of entertaining everyone he came in contact with, Boots passed away in 2016, and the world hasn’t laughed as much since.)

The annual LSWA Hall of Fame Induction weekend always gives old friends a chance to visit and regroup and that’s what these two former speedsters, Cannon and Garrett, were doing, sort of chuckling their way through 15 minutes or so.

Then an announcement was made and something happened that still makes Dr. Garrett laugh every time I mention it.

“Well,” Dr. Cannon said, “they say it’s time to go to the stage. I’ll see you up there.” He took a couple of steps.

“OK,” Dr. Garrett said. “I’m right behind you.”

Dr. Cannon stopped and, over his shoulder, said, “You always were.” Then he smiled, turned, and he was gone. Again.

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