By Tom Mattingly
There was always something special about waking up on Saturday mornings in the fall during the 1960s and into the 1970s, knowing that one of the big games in the country was being played at Neyland Stadium, less than 10 miles from your home.
When the Vols were on the road, fans awakened at 6 a.m. (maybe earlier), and it was time to head for Lexington, Birmingham, Atlanta, or Nashville, maybe even Memphis.
The echoes of Stoll Field, Legion Field, Grant Field, Dudley Field, or even Memphis Memorial Stadium still resonate in fans’ memory banks. There was something special about those trips.
Fans were all on the same side, if only for a Saturday afternoon, well into Saturday night or Sunday morning.
The road trips to the game site were fun, but the trip home, if the Vols won, was more fun. There was a camaraderie among Vol fans that was indescribable. Most fans probably had the LSU game on the radio after stopping somewhere for a meal, but let a Tennessee car go by, there was a flashing of the lights and recognition that something good had just happened.
There was a magic day and night in November 1967, after Tennessee defeated Ole Miss in Memphis by 20-7, and the Vols flew home knowing the Orange Bowl was in their future. Kentucky and Vanderbilt fell in the ensuing weeks, and the Vols had completed an SEC championship season. It was the first league title since 1956. The win also broke an 8-game losing streak for the Vols against the Rebels. The last win in the series had come in 1958, Vols 18, Rebels 16.
Doug Dickey had said on arriving in Knoxville in late December 1963 that the fourth year of his tenure would be something special, and special it was.
There was a bonfire that night on Volunteer Boulevard near where today’s P.E. Building and Tom Black Track are now. On the Vol Network, Gus Manning made the announcement of a big-time celebration soon after the game was over.
John Ward was busy making preparations for the “Doug Dickey Show” after having assembled his own game play-by-play tape behind the scenes. He was worried about getting the game film processed and the Dickey show on the air as scheduled for the next day across the state.
The Vols arrived in Knoxville a few hours later to the cheers of the crowd, even if many Vol fans who were at the game were still somewhere on I-40 or U.S. 70 west of Knoxville.
Dickey presided over the festivities, wearing a white jacket, maybe a 44 long, with a Tennessee insignia on the pocket.
He didn’t speak long, saying he had a group of tired and sore players with him, but the Tennessee spirit was alive and well that night.
All the while, things were moving as quickly as possible to get complete game coverage to Vol fans everywhere.
The celebration was front-page news in the next morning’s News-Sentinel and other newspapers across the state and well beyond. Newspaper sports sections covered the game and its aftermath in great detail, as well as the other games taking place that afternoon and evening.
There was no internet. The barrage of current outlets that provide nearly instantaneous coverage of sporting events, regardless of the locale, was still many years in the future.
As the evening progressed, Bill Dyer was putting final touches on the DyerGram after listening to the game broadcast, as George Mooney, Bob Foxx, and Julian Andes described the action on the field. How Bill drew the cartoon without having seen the game still defies description, testimony to his talent and creativity.
Marvin West, Tom Siler and other media from across the state were submitting their stories from the game site to meet whatever publication deadlines were in those days.
It was quite an effort to get all this accomplished, but it happened with remarkable consistency game after game, season after season.
“Hold That Line” was taking calls from fans on Knoxville radio station WATE, even if fans’ questions and/or comments about the game were not audible to the listener. One soothing aspect of the post-game coverage was the incessant request for the Slippery Rock score, a fascinating staple from that program over the years.
This flurry of activity allowed the News-Sentinel’s Pierce Holt Carter to head to the corner of Church Avenue and Gay Street around 11 p.m. to await a steady stream of cars stretching up Church Avenue from the Civic Coliseum to the old KUB headquarters. The early edition was hot off the press.
It was a night for the ages. Time has not dimmed the memories of games like this over the years. Through the magic of film, video and audiotape, and fan recollections, the games of our youth are still memorable.
There had to have been some great conversations in the upcoming days and weeks wherever Vol fans might have gathered. To say that Tennessee football was (and still is) a “can’t-miss” proposition would be a “for-sure” understatement.
If fans close their eyes in exactly the right way, the memories are there for the taking, regardless of the passage of time.
