08-26-2012, 10:07 PM
For me, the 1990 game will always be the greatest Big Game -- greatest contest of any kind, actually -- for two reasons. First of all, it was just a great game even if you had no rooting interest. One team scores to trail by one, goes for two and fails, recovers an onside kick, and makes a field goal as time expires. Great stuff, right?
But within the context of the rivalry*, it was so, so, so much better. I remember walking up to the stadium and a group of C.al tailgaters was playing a recording of The Travesty** on repeat. Then, of course, there were the usual shenanigans from the C.al students. I don't know how long this tradition had been going on, and it's been too long since I've attended a Big Game in person to know if it's hung on, but the geniuses in the student section loved to hurl oranges at the Stanford band. Getting hit on the head by an orange that's been thrown from a hundred feet away and a hundred feet up could probably give you a concussion, so the band members wore hard hats. A few even had juicers attached to their helmets and were running around the field collecting the debris and making orange juice.
With all that as prologue, the final minute was absolute poetry. It isn't necessary to recount the football details; you know them all. But there are three things I'll never forget:
1. The complete emptiness as we watched thousands of C.al fans swarming the field in celebration of their apparent victory when the two-point conversion failed.
2. "Please clear the field. The game is not over."
3. The sheer joy (which is the exact opposite of complete emptiness) as I joined the rest of the Stanford students swarming the field in celebration of our ACTUAL victory after John Hopkins's kick sailed through the uprights.
* As much as I enjoyed this game, I realize I couldn't have enjoyed it as much as those of you who were already Stanford students or alums in 1982.
** In some circles, this play is referred to by another name, but The Travesty seems more appropriate.
But within the context of the rivalry*, it was so, so, so much better. I remember walking up to the stadium and a group of C.al tailgaters was playing a recording of The Travesty** on repeat. Then, of course, there were the usual shenanigans from the C.al students. I don't know how long this tradition had been going on, and it's been too long since I've attended a Big Game in person to know if it's hung on, but the geniuses in the student section loved to hurl oranges at the Stanford band. Getting hit on the head by an orange that's been thrown from a hundred feet away and a hundred feet up could probably give you a concussion, so the band members wore hard hats. A few even had juicers attached to their helmets and were running around the field collecting the debris and making orange juice.
With all that as prologue, the final minute was absolute poetry. It isn't necessary to recount the football details; you know them all. But there are three things I'll never forget:
1. The complete emptiness as we watched thousands of C.al fans swarming the field in celebration of their apparent victory when the two-point conversion failed.
2. "Please clear the field. The game is not over."
3. The sheer joy (which is the exact opposite of complete emptiness) as I joined the rest of the Stanford students swarming the field in celebration of our ACTUAL victory after John Hopkins's kick sailed through the uprights.
* As much as I enjoyed this game, I realize I couldn't have enjoyed it as much as those of you who were already Stanford students or alums in 1982.
** In some circles, this play is referred to by another name, but The Travesty seems more appropriate.
Please clear the field! The game is not over!