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Tonight I went to the last event I will ever attend (at least within the scope of imagination) that will end in the Bulldog fight song. I stood in the oppressive heat of a high school auditorium whose air conditioner has never been adequate and invited a headache by fighting tears. I don’t know why I fought them.  Before I started, I knew they would win. It was not my alma mater or my song. I did not even have a blood-related child on the stage, but it is my youngest son’s senior year. I have watched him and his…