Exceptionalism Demands Sacrifice In the Great State of Alabama before the complications of college prep courses, steady girlfriends, and political correctness, fall always meant football. Each day of the week from late August through the New Year’s Day Bowl games was filled with college football. It was said that it was the only time of the year to get a decent haircut since the local barber was a little crossed-eyed. The constant football stories and speculation with others awaiting their turn in the chair, kept each of the barber’s eyes focused in a different direction which resulted in the best possible haircut. In our home, my Dad would ensure that my brother and I received our haircuts so that we could present our best in church on Sundays. We did not have the luxury of a ‘paid for’ haircut. No, our Dad would gather my brother and me for a trim. Being of the age at which sitting still was pure torture, our Dad devised a clever means of engaging us. He would reach into his pocket retrieving a dime. He would then flip it into the air and catch it. Quickly slapping the coin on the back of his opposite hand, one of us had to call ‘Heads or Tails’. A correct call would get you the first haircut. The runner-up got to keep the dime as a consolation prize for the extra waiting time. It seemed to be an equitable solution. On this particular Saturday, it was a typically crisp but gray day in November as we arose with great anticipation. Troop 94 of the Boy Scouts of America from Camden, AL had assembled at the ‘scout hut’ at about 6:30am on this Saturday morning for the privilege of a three to four hour ride to Cliff Hare Stadium (later changed to Jordan-Hare Stadium to honor long-time coach Ralph ‘Shug’ Jordan, the coach on this game day) to arrive in uniform ready to usher fans to their seats within our assigned section. In order to see the Auburn Tigers play on their home turf for free, we were happy to leave at whatever happened to be the appointed time. There was typically a caravan of several cars to transport about 20 to 30 Boy Scouts who were more than willing to perform their duty. On our journey to Auburn, we would travel through Montgomery then on to Auburn. I’m not sure where it was but I remember stopping somewhere along the route (well before the construction of I-85) so that we could purchase our lunch for the day. An enterprising church that was doubtless raising money for foreign Missions or a building fund, sold box lunches to game-day travelers. Tucked away gently just below the surface of my memory is the aroma of cold fried chicken, wiping the sweet nectar of a Red Delicious apple from my chin, and tasting the blissful crunch that two halves of an Oreo cookie make after the middle has been carefully licked clean. These sensations will never be separated from the memory of that day. The hard part was waiting until we arrived at the stadium to enjoy this feast. We were taught by our Scout Masters to always be polite and respectful since we represented the Boy Scouts of America, Troop 94 of Camden, AL, and our parents. We didn’t liter; in fact, we picked up our trash and that belonging to someone else. In addition, it was suggested that we speak up and put on our biggest smiles when requesting of the lady behind the concession stand, “Not too much ice, please”. We were so loved by those men who poured the wholesomeness of their lives into ours. They would say that it was never a sacrifice. They made it appear so effortless, we would agree with them. The Assistant Scout Master demonstrated his love for us by complaining to the Boy Scout Council Leaders of our continual assignment to stadium sections that had the worst sightlines. We could not hear what was said, but he came back to our section with neck veins bulging as he muttered, “These boys have worked hard; they deserve better. We have more Eagle Scouts than any troop here”. A few minutes later, he was summoned back to the assignment desk to get the news that we were being moved to a different section, on the 40 yard-line, about 35 rows up. He returned with thanks on his lips. We felt the pride of recognition but more so that someone that we trusted fought for us and won. Despite the events of this day, November 12, 1960 became etched in my mind for what happened on the field. Auburn was led that year by Ed Dyas who played fullback, linebacker, and place kicker. He set SEC and National Records for Field Goals in a season at 13. At the time, he was number six among the Auburn All-Time Rushing leaders. He was an Academic All-American for three years. As a senior, he was a consensus All American and was number 4 in the Heisman balloting. One the other side of the ball for Georgia were All American Guard Pat Dye, later to become Auburn Head Coach who would end years of dominance by Alabama, and a quarterback that would go on to play on lots of Sundays, Fran Tarkenton, who is enshrined in the NFL Hall of Fame. These were the glory days of Defense when Auburn would consistently hold its opponents to fewer than 100 yards rushing. This game was shaping up to be a typical SEC ‘smash-mouth’ defensive struggle and no one was disappointed. From my vantage point on the 40 yard line, I watched two of the nation’s finest traditions battle each other up and down the field begrudging every inch. Field position, defense, and the kicking game were the art and science of the day. This was not a game for the faint at heart or for those who would think of this as boring. We were treated to a huge helping of Southern football at its strategic finest. With time running out, the scoreboard read, “Auburn 6, Visitors 6”. The only scoring that either team could wring out of the other was two field goals each. This game of ‘attack and defend’ was about to write history. On Auburn’s final drive, Ed Dyas as fullback, driven by a competitive spirit that comes from deep within your soul, led Auburn down the field in his bruising ‘3 yards and a cloud of dust’ style. In the manner of a leader, he was unstoppable until Auburn reached the Georgia 20 yard line. The image of Ed Dyas moving into the backfield to line up the kick is indelibly etched into my gray matter as was the complete series of visions from that entire magical day. The Offensive Line was poised awaiting the snap count. The snap and hold were perfect. Dyas kicked it through to move Auburn ahead by a score of 9 to 6 with less than two minutes left on the clock. After the kick-off, Auburn was able to hold Georgia, Tarkenton/Dye and company until time ran out. I was raised on Auburn football. That day, seeing the pride, determination, ‘we will not be denied’ attitude, Auburn won my heart, forever. To add a punctuation mark on this glorious memory, the Auburn band remained in their seats and played their hearts out for 30 minutes after the game in tribute to the warriors on the field and to the faithful in the stands that joined their souls together that day in defining the spirit of Auburn. It was Heaven. The only experiences that are above this in my mind are those of real life: the salvation of my soul by the work of the Holy Spirit granting me faith in the sacrifice of my Lord Jesus Christ for me; the births of my sons as well as their children and the gift from God of a godly wife. It is the eternally significant things that matter the most. But ranking somewhere near the top of the temporal are the events of that overcast autumn day when Auburn got the best of Georgia without either team scoring a touchdown. This is college football in the South, the perfect metaphor for the struggle in which you learn to rely on more than self to succeed; it is being a committed part with another for a shared cause. Dr. Ed Dyas would agree as he would be drafted number 6 yet turned down a career in the NFL to become an orthopedic surgeon to make a greater contribution in the lives of others. He epitomized giving yourself away for a greater goal. He and the Auburn Family continue to celebrate this leap into exceptionalism. This and moments like it would continue to lay the foundation for all that is right in these United States of America. Some would say, “But it’s only football”. Ah, more’s the pity. Surrendering personal glory for the opportunity to be part of a group that reaches for the goal that cannot be reached alone is truly exceptional. This applies, win or lose. Without a sacrifice for others, we would be left to speak only of ourselves. How incredibly boring would that be?
Posted on: Mon, 27 Oct 2014 21:32:59 +0000
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