Plenty of things had to happen to set up von Schamann’s heroics, beginning with Phil Tabor forcing a Greg Castignola fumble that teammate Reggie Kinlaw recovered to give OU new life late in the game. Moments later with 1:29 remaining, Elvis Peacock scored on an option pitch right to cut the lead to 28-26. But the Sooners’ comeback stalled when they failed to convert the potential game-tying two-point attempt.
On von Schamann’s ensuing on-side kick, the ball glanced off of an Ohio State player and Mike Babb recovered for OU near midfield. Backup quarterback Dean Blevins connected with Steve Rhodes for an 18-yard gain, and the Sooners ran the ball three straight times (two by Kenny King), advancing to the OSU 24 with six seconds left.
“We called time out to stop the clock and set up the kick and when we got ready to go, Ohio State called a timeout,” said von Schamann, recalling Hayes’ freeze tactics. “During the second timeout it was so loud, it was the first time I ever remembered noticing the crowd.”
In that instant, as 90,000 Buckeye faithful joined to chant “Block that kick, block that kick,” von Schamann felt his confidence level rising. In fact, he was so aware of the moment that he turned to the loudest portion of the stadium and helped lead the deafening chant.
“I had dreamed about being in a situation like that, so I had prepared myself mentally,” offered von Schamann. “I felt all along like I was going to make it.”
And that he did, splitting the uprights from 41 yards away. Good.
“You’ve never heard a stadium that big get so quiet so fast,” said OU coach Barry Switzer. “It was a great finish to one of the greatest games I was ever involved in.”
A Lott to Remember
Oklahoma was on the verge of signing San Antonio high school star Thomas Lott during the 1975 recruiting season. Lott scheduled a press conference to announce his decision, and OU coaches Barry Switzer and Wendell Mosely flew to Texas to seal the deal.
Just before the big moment, Switzer turned to Mosely and asked for the letter of intent. Mosely replied, “I didn’t bring them. I thought you had them.” Mosely had basically forgotten the most important item for the trip, and they had to fly back to Oklahoma to get the proper paperwork.
The next day, Switzer made it back down to San Antonio and signed Lott to play for his Sooners.
The Hair and the Toupee
Charlie North, who coached tight ends at OU from 1979-94, put his sense of humor on display occasionally, including one time after he and a few members of Barry Switzer’s staff had participated in a high school coaching clinic at nearby Purcell, Oklahoma. The group stopped in at a local watering hole afterward, and North went to work, asking the barmaid if she had seen his brother hanging around. The unsuspecting girl said she had not seen him.
A bit later, North exited the bar, went to his car and tossed his toupee in the trunk. After waiting a while, he made his return, now sporting a new look, and promptly asked the same barmaid if she had seen his brother. Without hesitation, she went into the whole story about how “his brother” was just here a few minutes earlier and she would keep an eye out for him if he returned.
Of course, North’s fellow assistants each struggled to keep a straight face while listening to the girl fall for the trickery.
Different Kind of Rug
When Oklahoma went to artificial turf in 1969, Memorial Stadium took on a new and seemingly improved look. It was ideal for running, and that’s exactly what the Sooners needed with their wishbone offense.
But while OU’s speedsters got speedier, there were tradeoffs that didn’t necessarily sit well with the players, such as the injury factor. As the original turf got older, it became so coarse that players were more worried about incurring serious rug burns and gaping strawberries than being pounded by an angry 260-pound opponent.
“They used to paint the center of the field and end zones, and every year, it got harder and harder and more abrasive,” said OU assistant Bobby Proctor. “For a while it seemed we had more guys in the training room for scrapes and burns than anything else. It was bad.”
OU finally replaced the old turf with “Super Turf” prior to the 1981 season. It looked better and had better padding, but it still managed to take a layer or two of skin if a player hit it just right.
Too Slow
Daryl Hunt was no speedster when he was recruited by Oklahoma in 1975. And after suffering a severe knee injury during the spring prior to his sophomore year, his wheels got even slower. He was timed at five seconds flat regularly during the team’s 40-yard sprint drills.
When Hunt ended his Sooner career after the 1978 season, he did so as the school’s all-time leading tackier. Not to mention that he was a two-time All-American and a player Barry Switzer described as “one of the toughest hard-nosed tacklers in the game.”
But what about that five-flat thing?
“It’s true, Daryl ran a 5.0 40,” said teammate and fellow linebacker George Cumby. “He absolutely had no speed. But he was six-five and 225 pounds and his football instincts were incredible. Here I was with 4.4, 4.5 speed and Daryl and I would end up at the ball carrier at the same time, play after play.
“He was amazing. He was a great student of the game and he really was able to make that work to his advantage.”
Wanted: Punter
One game into the 1975 season, Barry Switzer’s Oklahoma squad was still trying to work out details with its special teams units. Tony DiRienzo was a solid place kicker, but senior Jim Littrell, the Sooners’ regular punter, developed a bad case of the shanks and couldn’t seem to shake them.
Switzer was desperate, so he announced after practice one day that he wanted anyone and everyone who had ever punted the ball before to hang around and try out for punter.
Among those who tested their legs that day were Joe Washington, Kirk Killion, Craig Lund and Tinker Owens.
“We started kicking the ball around, and I’m just booming it,” Owens said. “I was kicking it better than I had ever punted in high school. So I ended up getting the job.
“I remember looking over at Joe [Washington] and he’s all smiles, so I asked him what was up. He said he was happy I got the job because no one else out there really wanted it.”
Owens, who would average just over 36 yards a punt that season, later admitted his job was to catch the ball and get rid of it.
“Our defense was so good we figured as long as I gave them a chance to stop our opponents, we were in pretty good shape,” smiled Owens.
No Pay, No Play?
Opening Saturday, 1973. The Barry Switzer era is about to begin at Oklahoma, as the Sooners load onto the team buses at their hotel in Temple, Texas, en route to Waco and a game with Baylor that afternoon. But Switzer was about to find out that even destined-to-be-legendary coaches aren’t immune to the rising cost of collegiate athletics.
As the buses rolled into the stadium complex on the Baylor campus, they came to a gate area manned by a pair of fellows in charge of collecting parking fees. Instead of the gate opening up at the sight of the buses, the men approached the vehicles and requested payment from the stunned drivers.
After a few minutes of delay, OU athletic business manager Ken Farris got out to see what the problem was. A heated debate ensued with Farris explaining that visiting teams should never be asked to pay to park at the host’s stadium. But the Baylor gate-keepers would not relent, and a flabbergasted Farris eventually coughed up the going rate.
By the end of the day, Oklahoma had gotten its money’s worth via a 41-14 pounding of the Bears.
One Tough Mother
Defensive back Jerry Anderson was considered by many to be the toughest, meanest player to ever wear an Oklahoma uniform. He lit up opposing receivers with forearms and vicious hits, and he did it playing on basically one knee.
During his senior season in 1976, an examination determined that Anderson’s anterior cruciate ligament in his right knee had deteriorated beyond repair. Despite playing in much pain, Anderson completed th
e season without missing a beat, according to assistant coach Bobby Proctor.
“He was unbelievably tough. That’s what made him so good,” said Proctor.
Hulk and Bulk
Look up the term “blue collar,” and almost certainly the accompanying picture would be of Gerry Arnold and John Roush. The hard-working tandem played side by side at left guard and tackle, respectively, for parts of their three seasons at OU.
“If you gave those two an assignment, no matter what it was, they’d get it done 99 percent of the time,” said OU offensive line coach Gene Hochevar, who dubbed the duo “Hulk” and “Bulk” during the 1973 season.
But according to Hochevar, the pair often provided comic relief, especially during games when they’d argue over offensive line calls and blocking assignments.
“It was a wonder they were on the same page as much as they were, because they were always going back and forth about something. They would break the huddle arguing and they would come back to the huddle arguing,” laughed Hochevar. “But when it came to grinding it out in the trenches, they’d roll you up like a window shade. They got the job done.”
Typical Wedge Breakers?
When people think of wedge breakers in football, images of wild-eyed kamikazes come to mind, aggressive players who propel themselves like missiles into harm’s way on kickoffs. Quarterbacks usually don’t fall into that category.
Scott Hill and Joe McReynolds did.
Both had come to Oklahoma as budding quarterbacks out of high school, bent on taking the reins of the Sooners’ powerful wishbone offense. But it was on special teams where Hill and McReynolds first earned their stripes.
They both played with reckless abandon and became OU’s ultimate wedge breakers during the 1975 season.
Polish, Not Practice
Billy Sims, David Overstreet, J. C. Watts, Thomas Lott, Kenny King, the list goes on and on. The amount of talent Oklahoma had on the offensive side of the football during the late 1970s was astounding.
Even more amazing was the fact Barry Switzer’s wishbone juggernaut barely broke a sweat in practice, at least according to some members of Larry Lacewell’s defensive unit.
“They’d call it polishing. Heck, they’d be eating dinner while the defense was still out practicing,” laughed Sherwood Taylor, a three-year starting safety from Ada, Oklahoma. “That’s how good those guys were. Didn’t matter who they’d run out there, the talent level was unbelievable.”
While the OU defense wasn’t exactly considered a weak link during that period, it was more than happy to grind it out until dusk without facing the offense.
“We always said our team scrimmages were the toughest thing we did,” added Taylor. “After going against that kind of talent, every other team we faced seemed easy by comparison.”
The Omen
Saturday November 8, 1975—A day that will live in infamy as far as Oklahoma football lore is concerned.
Joe Washington. Photo courtesy of the University of Oklahoma
Barry Switzers No. 1-ranked Sooners had beaten 28 consecutive opponents and were riding an unbeaten streak of 37 straight games. The defending national champs were prohibitive favorites and expected little resistance from an unheralded Kansas squad visiting Memorial Stadium that afternoon.
And as it turned out, the Sooners were halfway right. It wasn’t the Jayhawks as much as themselves that they should’ve been concerned about. In a shocking performance, OU did little right on its way to a 23-3 upset loss.
What went wrong? The Sooners had a critical touchdown called back. They had a punt blocked that set up a KU touchdown. They fumbled it away four times, including once on the KU goal line. They also threw four interceptions and had a field goal blocked.
As a side note, early in the second quarter, sure-handed Tinker Owens dropped a Steve Davis pass. It was the only pass Owens dropped during his entire OU career.
Joe Washington knew at that moment the Sooners were in trouble.
“I knew we were going to lose that game after Tinker dropped the pass, because he never dropped passes, not even in practice,” said Washington.
Despite the stunning loss, OU rebounded to win its final three games, including 14-6 over Michigan in the Orange Bowl, and earn the program’s fifth national championship.
Moving on up (in a hurry)
On the opening day of spring practice in 1973, Mike Vaughn found himself checking out the depth chart for Oklahoma’s offensive line. After giving the posted list of good once-over, the redshirt freshman spotted his name—seventh-team offensive tackle.
“Not exactly All-America material,” joked Vaughn, reminiscing.
The 6-foot-6, 275-pound Ada product, who was coming off of winter shoulder surgery, spent the first three days of practice holding blocking dummies during drills for the offensive linemen.
“I knew the lower guys on the totem pole held the dummies, but I certainly didn’t like it,” he said. “I was getting pretty good at it after three days, but wave after wave of blockers hitting those dummies will wear on you pretty fast.”
On the fourth day, the Sooners held a two-on-two drill, better known as the “Oklahoma Drill,” where the linemen are filmed and graded while going head to head. Finally, Vaughn had a chance to showcase his skills, and he made the most of it. By the time he showed up for practice the following day, he had leapfrogged to third on the depth chart.
That was the beginning of a very successful stay at Oklahoma. By the time Vaughn exited, he had earned All-Big Eight honors twice and All-America honors once. Not bad for a former seventh-teamer.
The “Beat Colorado Party”
The 1970 season figured to be pivotal in Oklahoma’s football fortunes, as Chuck Fairbanks and his staff were coming off of a 6-4 campaign that saw them fail to earn a postseason bowl bid.
Three games into the fall, the Sooners decided to change offenses—opting for a the same wishbone attack archrival Texas had been deploying with great success the last few seasons. OU debuted its wishbone in a 41-9 loss to the Longhorns on October 10.
“We knew we were doing the right thing going to the wishbone, because we had the talent to run that offense. It was just a matter of time,” said assistant coach Barry Switzer.
The problem was patience. OU fans didn’t have any, and their “Chuck Chuck” campaign didn’t exactly infect the young coaching staff with a lot of confidence.
“I was sitting in the office with Larry Lacewell and Jimmy Johnson, and I told them I knew we were going to get better, but I wasn’t sure we’d be around coaching this team when it happened,” laughed Switzer.
At that point, Johnson came up with an idea for a “Beat Colorado Party” to be held on Thursday night before their trip to Boulder. Here’s the wacky part: the three coaches—Switzer, Johnson and Lacewell—decided to have their spouses dress up like men while they dressed in drag.
It was something to get their minds off of the existing pressures and have a little fun.
Jimmy Johnson. Photo courtesy of the University of Oklahoma
The three couples gathered at the Switzer’s house—Johnson in a long evening gown and wig, Lacewell in thick makeup and a wig, and Switzer in one of his wife’s dresses—and the plan was to go to every other coach’s house and get them to join in the fun.
“Before the evening was over, everyone was at Chuck Fairbanks’ house. Every assistant and his wife was dressed up,” said Switzer. “Chuck sees us having a helluva time and he goes back and throws on a white sequin dress and lipstick all over the place. It was just what we needed to forget about football for a few hours.”
But it doesn’t end there.
Sometime around 2 a.m., Johnson and fellow assistant Gene Hochevar were driving home when they pulled up to the corner of Lindsey Street and Berry Road. Two rednecks leaving Opie’s, a local watering hole, pulled up next to them in their pickup truck and honked, thinking they might get lucky with the lovely ladies.
Johnson rolled down his
window, flipped them the bird and gave the two fellas directions on where they could go.
“The entire staff got a pretty good laugh out of that,” added Switzer, who pointed out that the Sooners beat Colorado that weekend, 23-15.
The “Beat Colorado Party” and its unusual theme became an annual tradition over the next several seasons in Norman.
Unwelcome Visitor
In the waning moments of the 1977 season opener, Oklahoma blocked a late Vanderbilt field goal to preserve a 25-23 victory. As the Sooners celebrated their narrow escape on the sidelines, a Vanderbilt fan approached OU assistant coach Bobby Proctor and grabbed him by his shirt.
Fellow assistant coach Warren Harper stepped in to give Proctor some assistance, and the two tossed the Commodore supporter back into the stands. Having heard about a brief scuffle near the OU bench, security arrived moments later to make sure order had been restored.
“It was kind of crazy, because here I am with this fan tugging on me, and I’m wondering what the heck is going on. Then Warren jumps in and we practically throw the guy back over the fence,” said Proctor, who had previously spent a few seasons as an assistant at Vandy prior to his coming to Norman.
“Well, I come to find out the guy’s kid is playing for Vanderbilt and I actually knew him pretty well. But I certainly didn’t recognize him under those circumstances. He had actually come down to congratulate us on the win.”
The Rhodes Less Traveled
Recruiting can be a fragile business. One wrong word, one wrong step and the most coveted of prospects can end up playing for your rival down the road. Then again, sometimes fate steps in to rescue a recruiting visit gone awry.
Such was the case when Steve Rhodes, out of Spruce High School in Dallas, decided to make his official visit to Norman on a foggy January night in 1975. The talented wide receiver had narrowed his choices down to OU, Arkansas and Texas A&M, and he was anxious to see what the two-time defending national champion Sooners were all about.
Excited about his first-ever ride in a plane, Rhodes boarded a flight in Dallas that was scheduled to arrive around 7 p.m. But it never landed in Oklahoma City due to thickening fog. Instead, Rhodes ended up in Wichita, Kansas.
Tales from the Oklahoma Sooner Sideline Page 10