This is how in was done back in the 80's. I couldn't tell you about today.
There were two sets of players that would arrive... most of the crowd would see the guys that had spent the night in Anderson (starters) arrive by bus, others who did not travel with the team, but would dress (mules) would arrive by shuttle from Mauldin Hall.
The locker room was always cramped, and bumping into each other was common, and comical. The guys who had spent the night in Anderson had their own locker, if you were a mule, you shared one. By a few minutes into it, people were pretty well settled and focused... some slept, some jammed with their headsets on and eyes closed.
We knew the pre-game scenario by heart... who went out, when, and for how long. After the warm ups, it was always fun to go out and judge just HOW BIG the crowd was gonna be, we'd come in and have our last few meetings... then onto the bus.
Coach Ford always said his ONE JOB as Coach was to get us on the bus and around to the hill to run down on time (TV games were the worst).
It is surreal on that bus. You are packed in (wearing equipment and such...)
and you just feel antsy to get the hell off... BUT driving around and seeing everyone tailgating... the car horns... the yelling muffled by the sound of the Bus' engines... It is surreal... and it's in slow motion.
Every once in a while, you'd see a dad hold his son up over his head to wave to us... everyone who saw them would wave back. It felt as if the bus wasn't moving, but as if the stadium was rotating around to us. It is just so difficult to describe, but so memorable. I get nostalgic every time I smell the exhaust of a bus. The bus fumes coupled with the smell of grills aflame and the murmur of a crowd... well pardon
the pun... but it chokes me up. My wife still doesn't get it.
The last right turn we made is pretty much all one would see until you got off the bus; the players stand up, and the crowd thickens, and you can hear the announcer and band...
The first time I ever stepped off the bus... I was shocked. Who was I? I'm not Rodney, not TA, not Coop, not Drag, not Stacy... but I was greeted by hundreds of people like I was the most important thing in the world to them... for just one brief moment.
I gave my wristband to a small boy the last time I made that trip. You'd think I given him a large diamond.
You push through the crowd... and sometimes you'd actually get separated from the rest of the team ahead... You keep walking and when the clicking of your cleats stops, you know you are at the top of the hill.
You know what always amazed me... short or tall... starter or mule... you could see everything from that vantage point.
Incredible.
My dad said my mom cried the first time I ran down the hill... later in private... she told me he did too.
It's frightening... y'all know the slope... steep, levels a bit and then steep again... You wanna sprint down it.. but a light jog will do just fine... you are pumped.. the crowd is roaring... and then...
silence.
You see the guy in front of you move... so you follow him... you never see the ground and when you get to the bottom of the hill… the noise comes back.
I don't remember being born. But I'll bet it's a lot like running down that hill.
There were two sets of players that would arrive... most of the crowd would see the guys that had spent the night in Anderson (starters) arrive by bus, others who did not travel with the team, but would dress (mules) would arrive by shuttle from Mauldin Hall.
The locker room was always cramped, and bumping into each other was common, and comical. The guys who had spent the night in Anderson had their own locker, if you were a mule, you shared one. By a few minutes into it, people were pretty well settled and focused... some slept, some jammed with their headsets on and eyes closed.
We knew the pre-game scenario by heart... who went out, when, and for how long. After the warm ups, it was always fun to go out and judge just HOW BIG the crowd was gonna be, we'd come in and have our last few meetings... then onto the bus.
Coach Ford always said his ONE JOB as Coach was to get us on the bus and around to the hill to run down on time (TV games were the worst).
It is surreal on that bus. You are packed in (wearing equipment and such...)
and you just feel antsy to get the hell off... BUT driving around and seeing everyone tailgating... the car horns... the yelling muffled by the sound of the Bus' engines... It is surreal... and it's in slow motion.
Every once in a while, you'd see a dad hold his son up over his head to wave to us... everyone who saw them would wave back. It felt as if the bus wasn't moving, but as if the stadium was rotating around to us. It is just so difficult to describe, but so memorable. I get nostalgic every time I smell the exhaust of a bus. The bus fumes coupled with the smell of grills aflame and the murmur of a crowd... well pardon
the pun... but it chokes me up. My wife still doesn't get it.
The last right turn we made is pretty much all one would see until you got off the bus; the players stand up, and the crowd thickens, and you can hear the announcer and band...
The first time I ever stepped off the bus... I was shocked. Who was I? I'm not Rodney, not TA, not Coop, not Drag, not Stacy... but I was greeted by hundreds of people like I was the most important thing in the world to them... for just one brief moment.
I gave my wristband to a small boy the last time I made that trip. You'd think I given him a large diamond.
You push through the crowd... and sometimes you'd actually get separated from the rest of the team ahead... You keep walking and when the clicking of your cleats stops, you know you are at the top of the hill.
You know what always amazed me... short or tall... starter or mule... you could see everything from that vantage point.
Incredible.
My dad said my mom cried the first time I ran down the hill... later in private... she told me he did too.
It's frightening... y'all know the slope... steep, levels a bit and then steep again... You wanna sprint down it.. but a light jog will do just fine... you are pumped.. the crowd is roaring... and then...
silence.
You see the guy in front of you move... so you follow him... you never see the ground and when you get to the bottom of the hill… the noise comes back.
I don't remember being born. But I'll bet it's a lot like running down that hill.
