By Tom Mattingly
There are times that someone posts something on the internet that just cries out for historic perspective. One thing is certain. You talk about “retiring numbers,” and you get all kinds of reasons to do so… or not do so. You also get an occasional piece of revisionism and some first-class controversy.
Here’s one example, a 2012 post called “Sammy Burklow’s Revenge.” It was written in the days when the chat boards were full of reasons John Majors’ Tennessee jersey No. 45 deserved to be retired… or not.
Here’s his thinking, highlighting his opposition to honoring that famous jersey.
It was 187 words and apparently quite an effort to put forth.
“Al Wilson was a nice player, but you can’t even begin this conversation without beginning with Sufferidge [sic], our only 3 time consensus All American, and the player Neyland acknowledged as the greatest…. As for John Majors, there are about 90 numbers that should be retired before his. John Majors was never for anyone but John Majors. He got himself fired, despite the University doing everything it could to retain him, and then trashed the University for a generation.”
There’s more.
“The most shameful thing he ever did was right here, when he tried to steal the glory from Charlie Severance and Wayne Grubb for ‘The Stop’ on Billy Cannon, by implying that his brother, Bill, was an integral part of that play, instead of just a mop up. Ask anyone who played for Majors, they’ll tell you a real Vol, Coach George “Bad News” Cafego, should have his number retired 100 times before Majors. Not to mention Dodd and McEver (who Neyland considered the greatest back he ever coached).”
This was an amazing piece of writing, full of sound and fury, but not much else, going in several different directions at once.
I’ll pause to take a deep breath.
I haven’t read anywhere in all the writings on Tennessee football history that John Majors somehow “tried to steal the glory” from Severance and Grubb after the events of that famous afternoon, Nov. 7, 1959. I missed that one, somehow. Maybe somewhere there was a source for that comment.
Maybe not.
For the record, what really did happen? There are several avenues open to gain insight on what transpired.
You could actually watch the film of the play and listen to George Mooney’s call and make your own determination. You could ask one of the few remaining people who were at the game. You could have also remembered John Ward’s premature call on the stadium public address system that day, when Ward, by his own admission, had Cannon being stopped yards before he neared the goal.
You could also look at the picture of “The Stop,” showing Severance (14), Grubb (61), and Bill Majors (44), each making a contribution to the play. The picture also shows head coach Bowden Wyatt celebrating yards away on the East side of the field. It’s definitely a keeper in anybody’s collection of Tennessee football photos.
It’s been an article of faith over the years that Grubb, Severance, and Bill Majors were there for the history-making stop.
In “The Big Orange,” Russ Bebb wrote: “Cannon started right and cut back inside where tackle Joe Schaffer slowed him a bit. Then Wayne Grubb and Charlie Severance hit him head-on, but Cannon kept chugging to the goal two feet away. Finally, Majors came roaring in to apply the clincher.”
In “Once a Vol, Always a Vol,” Haywood Harris and Gus Manning reported: “Down on the field, Charlie Severance knew precisely where he was at that magic moment, securely wrapped around Cannon, the two adversaries locked in combat only a few inches shy of the goal line.
“At Severance’s side was Wayne Grubb who had Cannon by the ankles. Hurtling through the air, making sure the LSU All-American stayed put, was Bill Majors, the safety, already a crowd favorite. He was the second of three brothers who came from Moore and Franklin Counties to play for the Vols.”
You can draw your own conclusions about what actually happened on that play.
Those are several examples of what’s on the written record, along with the classic picture taken from behind the play.
One more note. Here’s what Cannon said after the game. “I will go to my grave believing I was over.”
The passage of time is inexorable, and the reporting, images, and fans’ memories of “The Stop” will always be with us. That picture will always be the gold standard of the most famous defensive play in Tennessee football history.
IN MEMORIAM: Geoffrey Neal Duggan (Oct. 3, 1956-March 25, 2026)
