I was 15. Mom let me leave the funeral home where my great grandfather was being shown to watch the game with my buddy and his Dad. On Sunday I watched the gold medal game sick as a dog, wrapped up in a blanket on the couch with his son, my Uncle Bob. Uncle Bob was an army air force pilot at Hickham Field on Dec. 7th, 1941. He never made it into the air but swore he got a couple "nips" (his word) with a rifle.