When football glory meets small-town camaraderie, the stories are as good as the game
Although I am still catching on to writing a column every two months for the viewing pleasure of both of my regular readers, I do like to indulge myself with a baseball story in the spring and, in the fall, offer a tip of the hat to our orange clad Volunteer football heroes.
This story begins with recently retired Knoxville attorney Bill Petty, who served as a resident counselor at the athletic dormitory from the mid-1950s until his graduation from law school in the early 1960s. Working under the tutelage of the legendary Gus Manning and long-time UT Sports Information Director Haywood Harris in the Coach Bowden Wyatt era at Tennessee, Bill eventually became the Vols’ official statistician at home games, a position he proudly held for some 40 years.
Among Bill’s favorite memories was when tailback Johnny “Drum” Majors led the team to an undefeated regular season, finished runner-up in voting for the Heisman Trophy, and then, eschewing pro football opportunities, entered the ranks of college coaching. Bill, of course, and so many others were delighted when, after winning a national championship at Pittsburgh, Johnny “came marching home” to coach the Vols.
Johnny, who had a successful 15 years coaching the Big Orange, never forgot his old friends, teammates, and fans, even after he lost his job at the end of the 1992 season. After a couple of years as head coach back at Pitt, he returned to Knoxville, maintained a high profile, and periodically hosted a luncheon at Buddy’s Barbecue’s banquet hall on Kingston Pike, always arranging for regionally or nationally known sports figures to speak and take questions. Bill, as a friend and admirer, never missed. When he discovered that I was a huge fan of old number 45 during his playing days, he added me to the invitation list, and much to my delight, included me from time to time when Bill and Johnny enjoyed a mid-day meal at the Lunch House on Magnolia Avenue, Bill’s favorite place to eat.
I like to think that I became a pal of sorts, mostly because I listened so carefully and laughed often when the old coach regaled us with glory days of the past. Our
conversations were often spiced with a few humorous jabs, and he was especially candid in subjects ranging from personal relationships to world affairs. For those who are not familiar with the Lunch House, it is a small restaurant, the tables are close, and when Johnny spoke, most customers were within earshot. At all our gatherings, those sitting at other tables, excited by the presence of a celebrity, would make it a point to visit the old coach, shake his hand, and express their admiration.
A couple of years before his death, Johnny had planned one of his luncheons at Buddy’s. Bill planned to attend, notified me, and I excitedly promised to be there. On the night before the event, Johnny called me on my home phone. He explained that he had scheduled a “really great speaker” for the event, but that he had become ill and would not be able to drive from Nashville the next day. Obviously disappointed, Johnny informed me of his speaker’s impressive background in sports and how popular he would have been with those attending the luncheon. He provided me with details of the grand introduction he had planned and how let down he was about the last-minute cancellation.
“Judge,” he exclaimed, “I have been calling all day to find a replacement and had no luck at all. I started with UT’s new head coach and athletic director, but both were out of town, and I called the basketball coach and even the track coach, but even they had conflicts.”
He rambled on, “Then I called one of my old teammates, several of my assistant coaches who still lived nearby, and even one of the state troopers who used to escort me at games. Shoot, I even asked that sportswriter that nobody likes!” After pausing for a breath, he continued, “I can’t find anybody, I’m desperate, I’m pretty much down to you!”
There was enough of a pause in our conversation for him to realize how I might be a bit sensitive to be placed so far down the list, but he recovered magnificently. “Judge,” he remarked after catching his breath, “This reminds me of my 1985 season. You remember, we were leading the SEC and had this great quarterback, Tony Robinson, who went down with a knee injury in the Alabama game at Legion Field. We held on to win 16 to 14, do you remember?”
“Sure do,” I answered, “I was watching on TV.”
“Well,” he continued, “we had to put in a fifth-year senior, a walk-on named Daryl Dickey, who had never played before. But he came on strong. The team didn’t lose another game, won the conference championship, and ended up in the Sugar Bowl facing the Miami Hurricanes – led by Heisman winner Vinny Testaverde at quarterback. They were playing for a national championship!”
“I remember,” I said, reliving the excitement in New Orleans, “What a game!”
“We win 35-7,” he exclaimed, “And our walk-on quarterback was named the Most Valuable Player. That was one of the biggest wins in Vol football history!”
Of course, I was overwhelmed by the comparison, strained as it was. “Well, what do you say?” he asked. “Can you speak tomorrow?”
“I would be honored,” I heard myself say.
“Well, what can you talk about?” he inquired.
“This phone conversation,” I replied. “I can’t think of a better story.”
Not completely satisfied, Johnny asked what my topic might be so that he could include that in his introduction. “That’s easy,” I said, “Just say it’s pretty much ‘Down to You.’”
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