Showing posts with label Darrell Royal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Darrell Royal. Show all posts

Monday, September 30, 2013

Legendary Longhorn James Street Dies



In my mind's eye, I can see quarterback James Street scrambling and passing for the University of Texas during his college football career in the 1960s.

Street died today at the age of 65.

Kevin Sherrington of the Dallas Morning News recalled Street's role in executing "the best play [coach] Darrell Royal ever called" — the fourth–and–three play action pass that set up the winning touchdown against Arkansas in the "Great Shootout" in Fayetteville, Ark., on Dec. 6, 1969.

The Shootout was a rarity in college football at that time — a game between the top two ranked teams in the nation.

"Street made [the play] work, his pass falling six inches behind two sets of Arkansas hands and into Randy Peschel's," Sherrington writes, "setting up the winning touchdown in a 15–14 game that won Texas a national title. In the process, Street made believers out of every teammate, coach, Longhorn and Razorback."

I guess that was true. I grew up in Razorback country. Ever since I was old enough to follow football, I pulled for the Razorbacks on autumn Saturdays, and the Shootout broke my young heart.

But I guess Sherrington is right. Street made a believer out of me — or, at least, his 20–0 record as Texas' quarterback coupled with Texas' victory in December 1969 convinced me.

(The memory still hurts even after all this time. I truly believed Arkansas would win that game.)

As much as I admired Bill Montgomery, Arkansas' quarterback in those days, I have to admit that I wished the Razorbacks had Street — in much the way that fans today wish their team had Peyton Manning.

When the game was over, Street joined Royal to accept the plaque from President Nixon proclaiming the Longhorns national champions.

But Street and Royal knew they still had to defeat Notre Dame in the Cotton Bowl on New Year's Day — which proved to be a formidable task.

I watched that game — and wished again that it could be Arkansas playing for a national title against Notre Dame.

Instead, the Razorbacks lost the Sugar Bowl to Archie Manning and Ole Miss that day. The loss was meaningless, of course, compared to what the Razorbacks had lost a few weeks earlier — and what they could have won on that New Year's Day if they had beaten the Longhorns.

But it was Street who left the Cotton Bowl as the unblemished quarterback of the national champion.



Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Happy 75th Birthday to Razorback Stadium



Today is the 75th anniversary of the opening of the football stadium on the campus of my alma mater, and a season–long celebration is planned.

I am speaking of Razorback Stadium at the University of Arkansas. Actually, since 2001, it has been known as Donald W. Reynolds Razorback Stadium. (Reynolds was a philanthropist who studied journalism at the University of Missouri and went on to own newspapers in Oklahoma and Arkansas. Reynolds' newspapers launched the Donrey Media Group, which was active in both journalism scholarships and internships when I was in school.)

The Razorbacks only won twice in 1938, but one of those victories came in Razorback Stadium's opener. The victory came against Oklahoma State, 27–7.

It's been expanded twice since I was in school there. They've added all sorts of bells and whistles — as well as seats — since the last time I was there. When I was a student, the only lights in the stadium were designed to allow players to practice, not to illuminate a night game for television. But Razorback Stadium has lights now — along with one of those huge screens at one end of the field.

Even so, I'm sure it would feel much the same to be there — even after all these years.

There have been lots of changes starting with the conference affiliation. When I was growing up, the Hogs competed in the Southwest Conference, but they've been in the Southeastern Conference since 1992. And today, the Hogs are 3–1 to start a season for the eighth time in the last 25 years (they started 4–0 four other times).

This Saturday, they will come home to face Texas A&M, an old Southwest Conference nemesis.

Back in the summer, I saw an online contest to pick the most significant game ever played in Razorback Stadium. I didn't participate in the contest — I meant to, but I was short of time when I saw it, and I told myself I would go back and cast a vote, but I never did — but I've been thinking a lot about the question it posed.

If the question had been asked about War Memorial Stadium, the Hogs' home in central Arkansas (and much closer to the town — now small city — where I grew up), I think it would be pretty easy. In 1975, Texas A&M was ranked second in the nation when the Aggies came to Little Rock to face the Razorbacks in the season finale.

Teddy Barnes' TD reception just before halftime sparked Arkansas to a 31–6 victory over the previously unbeaten Aggies and a berth in the Cotton Bowl against Georgia.

But the question was not asked about War Memorial Stadium. It was asked about Razorback Stadium.

I went to some significant games at Razorback Stadium when I was a student there, and I know of some significant games that have been played there since I graduated, but only one game came to mind when I read that question. It was played long before I went to a game in Fayetteville.

It's "The Great Shootout" between top–ranked Texas and second–ranked Arkansas in 1969.

I have written of that game before. The Texas game was always the most important game on the schedule when I was growing up, no matter what the records were. The fans in Arkansas would have worked themselves into a frenzy even if both teams came into the game winless.

But the 1969 game was unique.

It was a rare meeting between the top two teams in the nation, and network folks were so certain that Arkansas and Texas would beat all of their other opponents that year — and be #1 and #2 in the polls — that they persuaded the schools to move their game from its traditional slot in mid–October to the first weekend in December, when no one else was scheduled to be in action, and the Hogs and the Longhorns could have the spotlight all to themselves.

In the days before conference championship games — and even national championship games — it was a fitting capper for college football's 100th season.

It may have been the greatest disappointment of my then–brief life when Texas edged Arkansas, 15–14, and was given a plaque proclaiming the Longhorns the national champions by President Nixon, who was, I believe, the first sitting president ever to visit Fayetteville. Texas coach Darrell Royal accepted the plaque from the president — even though he knew the Longhorns still had to overcome Notre Dame in the Cotton Bowl on New Year's Day.

And I watched it all on my parents' black–and–white TV. I don't remember how old I was when I first saw a Razorback game in color. All my early memories are in black and white.

Most of my memories of Razorback Stadium also involve Frank Broyles because he was Arkansas' coach when I was growing up. He was always there, always on the sideline, always doing his weekly TV show on Sundays (which, in those pre–cable days when teams were limited to one or two in–season telecasts per year, was usually the only way I could see footage of the Razorbacks in action).

Once, when I was a student at the University of Arkansas, I did a brief phone interview with Broyles. I must confess, I was a bit starstruck. I mean, here I was talking to the man I had watched roam sidelines since I was a child. I can't really say I idolized him. But he was a familiar figure to everyone in Arkansas, and I felt like one might if speaking to a movie star.

Broyles was no longer the coach by the time I interviewed him. He was the full–time athletic director, but he patiently answered my questions (which I realized, at the time, could have been more professional — but what the heck? I was a student), and I wrote up a story for the school newspaper.

Interestingly, while the stadium is known, officially, as Donald W. Reynolds Razorback Stadium, the playing surface is known as Frank Broyles Field. That is something I have encountered at other schools, too — including the University of Oklahoma, where I taught journalism for four years. I never attended a football game at OU, but I was well aware of the fact that the football facility was known as Memorial Stadium at Owen Field.

It isn't new to me. It just seems kind of unnecessary, like hyphenated surnames.

But I guess both serve a purpose.

Anyway, it's been 75 years since Razorback Stadium opened its doors. I'm proud to have played my modest role in its development. I witnessed some great moments in Razorback history — and I saw a few Southwest Conference greats from other schools play there. Most of the people who read or hear of those games and players will not know I was there, but I was. I cherish the memories.

Happy birthday, Razorback Stadium — and many more.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

A Giant Falls in Texas


There were many giants in college football when I was growing up, and Darrell Royal was one of the largest figures.

He wasn't physically imposing — he always looked rather ordinary to me — but he was still intimidating. Maybe it was his reputation as a winner.

Or maybe it was his way with words.
"You dance with who brung ya."

He was an honorable man, and he remained a beloved figure in Texas long after he left coaching.

My grandmother lived in Dallas most of her life, and there was a little Mexican restaurant about three blocks from her home. It was just a little family owned restaurant, not a franchise or anything like that, and the walls were filled with photos of Royal, many of which had been signed by him. Most of them said something like "To my friend [whatever his name was]. I always love to eat at your place when I'm in Dallas. Darrell Royal"

(I don't know if the owner and Royal really were friends or not. I once asked the cashier if the signatures were authentic, and she said they were, but I was never sure she understood my question. Her English wasn't very good, and the extent of my Spanish is that I can count to 10.)

His death today at the age of 88 truly marked the end of an era for me, even though it has been more than 30 years since he walked the sidelines — and even though he was my greatest nemesis when I was growing up.

One by one, the familiar faces from those days have been disappearing over the years, but Royal's death may be the biggest one yet from these parts. As Kirk Bohls writes in the Austin American–Statesman, Royal "became the biggest college football icon in a state that worships the sport."

Actually, a case could be made that Royal was the biggest football icon in Texas — period. Tom Landry may have surpassed him in popularity when he took the Dallas Cowboys to five Super Bowls in the 1970s, but in the 1960s, while Royal was winning national championships on the college level, people around here were talking about how Landry couldn't win "the big one" in the NFL.

I grew up in Arkansas, where the Razorbacks rule, and you just couldn't be an Arkansas fan without hating Texas. The annual football game between the schools was an event — even though it usually didn't end too well for Razorback fans. (I can count on one hand the number of Arkansas victories over Texas in the first 20 years of my life.)

As a result, there was a certain amount of resentment directed toward Royal. It seemed he always had the upper hand.

Arkansas fans knew Texas didn't have a better coach. Arkansas had Frank Broyles, who is justifiably regarded as a legend in the sport as well, but he might have been the most dominant coach in the Southwest Conference had it not been for Royal.

They had both won national championships in the 1960s. But when they met in 1969's "Great Shootout," Texas fans were strutting with confidence about the success of the wishbone offense that Royal had pioneered with assistant coach Emory Bellard. Any thought Arkansas fans had of beating it, Texas fans said, was nothing more than dreaming the impossible dream.

Texas was to Arkansas what Muhammad Ali was to Joe Frazier or what Secretariat was to Sham — the ever–constant barrier to greater things.

And, for that, many Razorback fans could never forgive him.

But they always respected him.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

The Swan Song for Two Legends



When I was a boy in Arkansas, as I have written here before, I was a fan of the Arkansas Razorbacks — like nearly everyone else.

Many of my earliest memories are of Saturday afternoons at my friends' houses — where, more often than not, the Razorback play–by–play could be heard on the radio in the kitchen or the living room.

I'm still a Razorback fan, but many things are different for me now. Yet, sometimes, when the breeze blows just so or I catch the scent of honeysuckle in the evening air or I feel a slight chill after an autumn rain shower, my memory bank conjures up, however briefly, a snippet from my childhood.

Most of the time, I don't remember the game or the circumstances — or the names of people whose faces I can see in my mind's eye for a second or two.

I only know that it is a link to a time that was early in my life, when things seemed more reliable, more stable.

Maybe that was one of the things that I always liked about the Razorbacks. They were reassuringly constant. They almost always had competitive teams, and I always got excited when Arkansas and Texas were about to play.

I guess you could say there were three things that I felt I could count on in those days:
  • Frank Broyles was the coach of the Razorbacks. There had never been any other head coach at Arkansas in my lifetime.

  • Darrell Royal was the coach of the Longhorns. There had never been any other head coach at Texas in my lifetime.

  • The Arkansas–Texas football game was always televised. (That wasn't as routine as it might seem to 21st century football fans, who are used to the idea that most of their favorite team's games will be televised. There was no cable in those days, and there were restrictions on the number of regular–season TV appearances a team could have.)
Probably the most memorable of the Arkansas–Texas games in my childhood was the one played in December 1969. It is remembered as the "Great Shootout," and it was so big it brought the president of the United States to tiny Fayetteville, Ark.

I may be wrong, but I believe that, until native Arkansan Bill Clinton came to dedicate a statue on the UA campus, it was the only time a sitting president ever came to Fayetteville.

That game, I must say, was not an example of stability — and not only because it drew higher–profile attendees than usual.

Ordinarily, Arkansas and Texas met in mid–October — but, because everyone figured they were the two best teams in the country, they were persuaded to move their 1969 game to the first week in December, when no other games would be played (this was a couple of decades before conferences started holding championship games), and the attention of the nation would be on that game alone.

And, in fact, the gamble paid off. It turned out that Texas was ranked #1 in the nation and Arkansas was ranked #2 when they met in Fayetteville on that December day. The winner would go to the Cotton Bowl to play Notre Dame for the national title, but the president was on hand to prematurely proclaim the winner the national champion.

When the game was over, I remember watching President Nixon gush about the Longhorns as he presented them with a national championship plaque that he said would be engraved with the winning school's name — and I noted bitterly that he hadn't said anything about the Razorbacks, who had shut out the Longhorns for the first three quarters.

If Texas was the best team in the nation, I reasoned, Arkansas was nearly as good. The Longhorns beat the Razorbacks by a single point that day.

I didn't dream that, nearly seven years later to the day, in another Arkansas–Texas game that had been moved to December, Broyles and Royal would leave the sidelines together for the last time.

I'm not sure if I ever knew the reasons why Arkansas and Texas agreed to move their 1976 game to early December. They had shared the Southwest Conference championship with Texas A&M the year before, and perhaps the ABC executives were gambling that, as in 1969, the two would be the best teams in the conference — if not the nation.

If that was the gamble, though, it came up way short of expectations. Arkansas and Texas tumbled out of contention early that season. Newcomer Houston won the conference title and went to the Cotton Bowl. Neither Arkansas nor Texas played in a bowl game that season so 35 years ago last weekend, the coaching careers of Broyles and Royal came to an end.

I don't know when or why those two men decided to retire from coaching. It just always seemed right that they did so at the same time. I couldn't imagine watching another Arkansas–Texas game and seeing one but not both on the sidelines.

Both continued to influence athletics as the athletic directors at the schools where they had built their coaching reputations.

And Broyles, at least, continued to wield the kind of power that successful football coaches in small states tend to wield. During his coaching days — and afterward, as athletic director — Broyles was, arguably, the most influential individual in Arkansas — more powerful than governors or senators, more revered than ministers (and, in devoutly religious Arkansas, that truly is saying something).

Broyles retired a few years ago. He's still living — he'll be 87 the day after Christmas — and, while he may still be an influential figure within Arkansas, outside the state one hears little about him anymore.

Royal marked his 87th birthday last summer. One hears even less of him. After he stopped coaching, he continued, as Broyles did, to serve as the school's athletic director, but only for a few years. Texas re–named its football stadium in his honor, and you hear his name mentioned whenever the Longhorns play in big games, but he has mostly remained out of the spotlight for the last three decades.

He now serves as a special assistant to the UT president — which sounds a lot like professor emeritus. If that is, indeed, what it is, he earned the honor, winning nearly three–quarters of the college games in which he coached.

Likewise, Broyles enjoyed a successful coaching career. He won more than two–thirds of his games, and he remains the only Arkansas football coach to win 100 or more games.

Current coach Bobby Petrino would have to win every regular season game, every conference championship game and every postseason bowl game from now until the end of this decade to match Broyles — and, since Broyles' 1964 team was the last Arkansas team to go through an entire season without losing, it seems likely that Petrino would have to remain at Arkansas well beyond 2019.

Even at his present pace (10 wins in each of the last two seasons), it would take Petrino until the year 2023.

Of course, if he manages to do that, he is sure to replace Broyles as the most powerful man in Arkansas — by which time, Broyles is likely to be deceased or far too old to care. In the immediate future, though, Broyles' status is secure.

Royal is also the winningest coach in Texas history, but the current coach, 60–year–old Mack Brown, needs only 35 wins to pass him.

In 2005, Brown became the second Texas coach to win a national championship. Royal was the first, and he went on to win three of them. Brown needs two more to match him.

No matter how you slice it, Broyles and Royal are living legends, and, for many long–time fans of both schools, their legacies are intertwined, like the epic boxing duels between Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier or the tennis matches between Chris Evert and Martina Navratilova or the Triple Crown races between Affirmed and Alydar.

It was fitting that they ended their coaching careers together.