By Tom Mattingly
In nearly 70 years of watching Tennessee football, I have calculated seeing the Vols play in 15 states and 38 stadiums, 34 outdoors and four indoors (the Astrodome, the Carrier Dome, the Louisiana Superdome, and the Georgia Dome).
I’ve been around long enough to see fathers and sons play for the Vols, Steve and Keith DeLong, for example, but not quite long enough to see three generations perform. Yet.
The stadiums where the Vols play are ancient and creaking, built in sections over the years, designed for football and nothing else, and awash with tradition.
These venues are a major reason college football is such a way of life. The moments before kickoff are a major source of excitement, something special, presaging the ancient rivalries, with long-standing grudges and the rivalries of more recent vintage being front and center.
For Vol fans, there is the thrill of seeing the Vols enter Shields-Watkins Field through a giant “T” formed by the “Pride of the Southland Marching Band.”
At Alabama, it’s Bear Bryant saying, “I ain’t never been nothing but a winner” over the public address system at Bryant-Denny Stadium, or the incessant pronouncement, for those fans with short memories, “This is Alabama football.”
It’s South Carolina coming onto the field at Williams-Brice Stadium in Columbia through smoke and the strains of Richard Strauss’s “Also Sprach Zarathustra,” the theme from the movie “2001.”
At LSU, there’s a real Tiger on the field, albeit in a cage. There are crowds so loud that seismometers have gone off in academic buildings near Tiger Stadium when particularly big plays have happened.
At Ole Miss, there are pre-game activities of all kinds in a place called “The Grove,” a not-to-be missed venue in everyone’s collegiate football experience.
When it’s time for the Vols to play at Kentucky in late November, there’s “Senior Day” at either Stoll Field (for us old folks) or, since 1973, at Commonwealth Stadium/Kroger Field. When the UK band strikes up the strains of Stephen Collins Foster’s “My Old Kentucky Home,” fans on both sides may not know all the words, but when the chorus swells to “Weep no more my lady,” it’s something special.
At Notre Dame Stadium in South Bend, Ind., there’s the spectacular view of “Touchdown Jesus” at the North end and the incredible ambience across campus. In 1991, there was the sight and sound of the Notre Dame student body standing and singing the “Notre Dame Victory March,” as Tennesseans celebrated an amazing comeback on the field below.
There are times on the field an observer can’t hear the person standing next to him because of the noise level, as happened in the 1993 Tennessee-Alabama game at Legion Field. In the final moments, the Tide scored and converted a two-point conversion to steal a 17-17 deadlock.
At Auburn, Georgia, Florida and LSU, for example, fans line the player’s entrance to yell “Dawg Food,” “Gator Bait” or “Tiger Bait” as the Vols (or any other opposing team) enter the stadium. There are Tennessee fans there as well, cheering on their heroes.
Occasionally, there are times fans on both sides get so agitated that being on the field can be dangerous.
In 1998, after the Vols won 20-17 against Florida in overtime, Steve Spurrier did his media conference in a small boiler room in the tunnel at the South end of Neyland Stadium. Medics were using the regular media room to treat a broken arm or two and other injuries from the post-game celebration. Spurrier seemed flummoxed by the whole set-up.
There were also all manner of projectiles, small batteries and the like, aimed at the North end just before the end of the 2000 Tennessee-Florida game, when an official’s ruling went against the home team.
At Georgia, the Bulldogs broke a 9-game losing streak to the Vols in 2002, and jubilation reigned supreme into the night, enough so that the legendary Georgia hedges came tumbling down. It didn’t help Bulldog head coach Jim Donnan, however, who was sent packing at season’s end.
There was a Tennessee player at Arkansas in 1999, who was so caught up in the post-game victory celebration, he was spotted helping hoist a portion of the goalpost amongst the Razorback fandom, before finally being escorted to the Vol dressing room.
There is nothing, however, that matches the feeling of leaving an opposing stadium, particularly after a big win, and hearing the band play the “Tennessee Waltz,” Pee Wee King and Redd Stewart’s ode to lost love in the state of Tennessee.
That’s one man’s version of how the fan impact on college football has evolved through the eyes of someone who has seen nearly all the celebrations mentioned. He has watched developments over the years, first as a fan, then as an insider, and then again as a fan.
He has been able to share his thoughts with readers of VOLUNTEERS Magazine, the Knoxville News Sentinel, The Knoxville Focus, and in the pages of six books. It’s been a fascinating way to enjoy the games and create memories for a lifetime.
