At 96, she still gets close to her beloved Yellow Jackets
She has witnessed three national title football teams at Georgia Tech, just missing out on the other -- in 1917.
She has, from her perch in virtually every section in Bobby Dodd Stadium, second-guessed 11 head coaches, suffering through four one-win seasons and the recent seven-game losing streak to loathed Georgia.
She attended home games the year of "Wrong Way" Riegels' infamous run in Tech's 1929 Rose Bowl triumph. She cheered on the Yellow Jackets past Alabama 7-3 in the ‘52 championship run, the 7-6 upset of No. 1 Bama in ‘62 that Dodd declared his finest moment, the 3-3 tie of top-ranked Notre Dame in ‘80 and the epic 51-48 overtime victory over UGA in ‘99.
If any devotees have followed a college team longer than Alae Risse Leitch, let them stand up and be heard with a "rah-rah, sis-boom-bah." Leitch, who turned 96 on Oct. 1, latched onto Tech nearly nine decades ago and has never let loose.
"I think I was born to it," Leitch says, wearing a Tech sweater at her assisted living facility room in northeast Atlanta. At the foot of her chair is a Tech seat cushion and Tech umbrella.
In the early 1920s, little Alae Risse (pronounced AL-a-reese) and her parents began riding the train from their home in Toccoa for games. The main attraction was her uncle, fullback David "Red" Barron, twice a Tech All-American.
One busy Thanksgiving Day, they watched the Jackets beat Auburn, then attended Barron's wedding. At halftime, Leitch recalls, the visiting team gave him a silver set as a gift.
Her most vivid memories involve relatives on the squad. Once, another uncle returned a kick for a touchdown, only to have it nullified by a penalty -- on her nephew.
She claims to have missed but a few home dates, always with legitimate excuses. Birth of a child. Seriously ill father.
"I'm with them through thick and thin," she says, not to mention rain or shine, toasty or arctic. "One night," she says, "it was so cold, we weren't able to open our coffee pot."
Kid sister, Jo Atchison, 82, who accompanies her to games, says, "She concentrates. Doesn't say much of anything."
Leitch concurs, then confesses, "I guess I wasn't always that way." A nearby fan once handed her a card with an invitation that she leave the vicinity.
She can't recall, but the fan might have worn red and black. Her distaste for the Bulldogs dates to their unveiling of Sanford Stadium in a 1929 game with Yale, which Leitch beheld with her father. "We yelled against them then," she says.
The Athens adventures, reluctantly, are over and done with. "Things just got too obnoxious."
An Agnes Scott graduate, Leitch winces as she admits that her four grandchildren gravitated toward UGA. She is determined to steer her nine young grandkids toward the Flats.
Road games are now reserved for special occasions, such as Orlando's Citrus Bowl in 1991, when Tech trounced Nebraska to earn the UPI coaches vote as champion.
The game pageantry is especially appealing, and Leitch was delighted when the Tech mascot Buzz and the Ramblin' Wreck paid separate visits to her home. The Wreck, a 1930 Ford Model A, might be an antique, but Leitch could have legally driven it when the sports coupe was new.
Leitch's viewing partner for years was her husband James, Tech Class of ‘34, who died 10 years ago. "Before he died," she says, "he told me he wanted me to keep the tickets."
So she hitches a ride with her sister, parks in a close-up space provided by the school, climbs a few rows up and sits in the East stands, around the 30-yard line. She brings some protection against the elements -- but no hat, lest it mess up her perfectly coiffed gray hair.
"Any of these seats I've had are good," she says, "as long as Tech is winning."
Winning is the norm this season, though not convincingly enough to suit their most enduring fan, who has donated to the Alexander-Tharpe athletes scholarship fund for at least 35 years.
She flicked off the TV, tuned to Tech-Florida State, at halftime Saturday night and not because of the late hour.
"I was mad at them," she says, "for not playing any defense."
Once her nerves had calmed, Leitch was planning to catch a replay of the game, start to finish, this week.
"The defense has left something to be desired," she says, sounding every bit as frustrated as a caller on a sports radio talk show. "As long as we win, I guess I'm all right."

