Tales from the Oklahoma Sooner Sideline

by Barry Switzer

  “Bosworth understood defense probably as well as [OU defensive coordinator] Gary Gibbs did. He knew how to play the game and he made a habit of making great plays. Boz was a football player—bottom line.”

  To Onside Kick or Not to Onside Kick

  There are plenty of legendary stories that define Oklahoma’s domination of Oklahoma State in the Bedlam series. But few can top the craziness of the 1983 battle in Stillwater.

  Fast-forward to the final 10 minutes of the game. The Cowboys own a 20-3 lead and celebrations have already started breaking out in the stands at Lewis Field. But OSU fans should have realized this one is far from over.

  The Sooners got themselves back into the game on a short flat pass that Derrick Shepard turned into a 73-yard touchdown reception. Tim Lashar’s point-after kick cut the lead to 20-10 with just under nine minutes remaining. Two possessions later, Spencer Tillman capped another OU scoring drive with a short run. And when quarterback Danny Bradley hit Earl Johnson with a perfect two-point conversion pass, the Sooners trailed 20-18 with just under two minutes left.

  Bosworth vs. Texas. Photo courtesy of the University of Oklahoma

  That’s when the real fun began.

  Coach Barry Switzer and his staff discussed their options on the sideline in the ensuing moments, and there was some confusion as to whether or not they were going to attempt an onside kick or not.

  “I heard Coach Switzer come over and say we want to go ahead and kick it deep, but no one ever gave me a definitive answer,” explained Lashar. “All I hear is [coach] Bobby Proctor saying we need to get the ball back.”

  To make certain everyone is on the same page, coverage man Dwight Drane runs up and down the 30-yard line informing his teammates about the decision to kick deep. But Lashar is teeing up the ball 10 yards away, out of earshot and unaware of Drane’s message.

  “I never heard him, so I’m still thinking we’re going with the onside,” admitted Lashar, who proceeded to kick a line-drive knuckler that bounced off the facemask of OSU’s Chris Rockins.

  The ball ricocheted straight to OU’s Scott Case, who had the presence of mind to grab it and run directly out of bounds near midfield. Several plays later, Lashar booted the game-winning 46-yard field goal with 1:14 left.

  “Some times it’s better to be lucky than good,” smiled Lashar.

  OU 21, OSU 20.

  Head Games

  The Oklahoma-Nebraska series always produces big hits, big plays and unusual moments. David Vickers experienced all of the above in a single moment during the 1986 affair in Lincoln.

  After making a bone-crunching tackle on a running play near the OU sideline, Vickers jogged back to join his teammates in the huddle. Once there, the defensive back began banging his hand against his head, repeatedly.

  “I looked over and wondered what the heck he was doing and he says, ‘I can’t feel my head,’” said teammate Sonny Brown. “The hit had left his entire head numb, so we got him out of the game pretty fast. It wasn’t very funny at the time, but we laughed about it later.”

  What If?

  To borrow a line from Mark Twain, “The rumors of my demise are greatly exaggerated.” That must have been what Mike Gaddis was thinking as he returned to action in 1991 after missing parts of two seasons with a career-threatening knee injury.

  The media had all but written the Oklahoma running back off after he suffered a torn anterior cruciate ligament in his left knee during third-quarter action of the OU-Texas game in 1989. At least 14 long months of rehabilitation awaited Gaddis, and then there was the psychological toll the injury might take.

  A successful comeback was not realistic, many believed.

  “I heard all of the rumors,” admitted Gaddis. “I knew it would be a long road back, but I was determined to get there. I didn’t want my college football career to end like that. I wanted to do more.”

  A week before hurting his knee, Gaddis had stepped into the spotlight with a phenomenal 274-yard rushing effort in a 37-15 win over Oklahoma State. Just a sophomore, he was on the verge of becoming a Heisman Trophy candidate at the ripe old age of 19.

  “I always said Mike Gaddis was the best running back ever recruited out of the state of Oklahoma,” said Barry Switzer. “If he stays healthy, he’s a top-five draft in the NFL. As it was, he still had a fine career, thanks to lots of courage.”

  When the Carl Albert product returned in ’91, he quickly silenced any and all doubters with one extraordinary performance after another. During a three-game stretch late in the season, Gaddis ran for 191, 217 and 203 yards against Kansas State, Missouri and OSU.

  How’s the Weather Up There?

  It seems the Bedlam series always provides at least one or two twists of fate or unusual circumstances, and the 1985 version of OU and Oklahoma States annual war certainly did not disappoint.

  The game, originally scheduled for a 1:30 p.m. kickoff, was changed to a night game to accommodate ESPN and a national television audience. As it turned out, much of that Saturday was a bit on the chilly side, but the 11 th-hour forecast called for freezing temperatures, and worse, possible snow.

  Coach Barry Switzer was already unhappy with the decision to move a late November game to night, but he was about to get a whole lot unhappier. By kickoff, an ice storm was raging across the state, and Stillwater was directly in its path. Conditions at Lewis Field worsened by the minute as the sheet of sleet covering the field grew thicker and thicker.

  “It was ridiculous, like an ice rink out there. We were worried about getting people hurt and freezing to death at the same time,” said Switzer, whose team skated its way to a 10-0 halftime lead. “In all my years of coaching, those were the worst conditions I ever saw.”

  The Ice Bowl, as it became known, featured single-digit temperatures and very little offense from either team. OU’s Brian Bosworth and Tony Casillas-led defense surrendered only 131 total yards to an OSU team ranked 17th in the country.

  Moments before Tim Lashar’s second field goal made it a 13-0 game, OU quarterback Jamelle Holieway called time out and slid his way over to Switzer on the sideline.

  “Coach, you lied to me,” were the first words out of Holieway’s mouth. “You told me if I came to school at Oklahoma I’d never have to play in weather like this.”

  Switzer wasted little time with his reply: “I didn’t lie to you, you dumbass. I’ve never seen weather like this in my life. I certainly never expected to play in this stuff, and if we would have played the game earlier when we were supposed to, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

  The third-ranked Sooners went on to win that night to keep their national championship hopes alive. And a little over a month later, in the warm Miami sunshine, Holieway and company beat Penn State to earn the title.

  Barry Switzer. Photo courtesy of the University of Oklahoma

  Red River Rhetoric

  Fans in need of a reminder why the Oklahoma-Texas series has always been so intense and so memorable could always count on Brian Bosworth to refresh their fleeting memories. The Boz, as he was known during his playing days at Oklahoma from 1984-86, defined it as follows:

  “It’s David versus Goliath. It’s good versus evil. It’s the intense history of the two rival institutions. You throw all of the statistics out when OU and Texas play. There are no number ones and no number twos; it’s simply a game between two teams who I believe really hate each other. That’s one of the main reasons why these kids go to these schools, and I think from that standpoint, you’re never going to find a better rivalry.”

  Life Saver

  Oklahoma running back Spencer Tillman discovered during his rookie season in the NFL that special teams players get all the tough assignments. But he never realized how easy he had it until the afternoon of October 25, 1987.

  Houston was scheduled to play Atlanta that day, and on his way to the Astrodome, Tillman warmed up in a most unusual way. As the cab he was in made its way toward the stadium on a local fre
eway, the driver collapsed, forcing Tillman to somehow take control of the cab and get it out of traffic.

  Stranded on the side of the road, Tillman administered CPR on the driver, saving his life.

  Houston beat Atlanta that afternoon, 37-33.

  Knock, Knock

  After lying unconscious for several minutes as a result of a head-on collision with a Baylor player, linebacker Paul Migliazzo stumbled to his feet and slowly made his way to the sideline with the help of his teammates. It was the third quarter, and OU was well on its way to a 34-15 victory over the Bears.

  Much of the afternoon became little more than a blur for Migliazzo.

  “They said I was standing on the sideline answering questions and talking to my teammates, but I couldn’t tell you a single word I said,” recalled Migliazzo. “I did remember scoring a touchdown on an interception in the first half, but everything else from that point to when I got knocked out was fuzzy.”

  When Migliazzo’s head finally cleared in the fourth quarter, his teammates decided to have a little fun with him. Mike Mantle, Sonny Brown and Evan Gatewood began embellishing on Migliazzo’s performance, describing the “other” TD he scored via a fumble and how he was unbelievable while in his punch-drunken state.

  “Paul was all smiles. We had him believing he had three interceptions and had done all of this other stuff. That was funny,” said Brown, a defensive back from Alice, Texas.

  “I was feeling pretty good about myself,” said Migliazzo. “Then I see them laughing and I come to find out they were just yanking my chain the whole time.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The 1990s and Beyond

  Sweet Redemption

  FOOTBALL HEROES WERE HARDER TO COME BY in the 1990s, as the Sooners struggled through one of the worst periods in their illustrious history. James Allen, a much- ballyhooed and later oft-criticized running back, earned his hero status. But it took some overtime work to get it done.

  Allen experienced the high point of his career against OU’s archrival Texas, as well as the low point. There was no middle ground, or so it seemed.

  The high point came in the 1996 Red River showdown in Dallas. The Sooners staged a furious rally in the final six minutes of the contest, using a 51-yard punt return for touchdown by Jarrail Jackson and a 44-yard field goal from Jeremy Alexander with 2:26 remaining to send the game into overtime.

  Two seasons earlier, the Sooners were in position to possibly win or tie the Longhorns when Allen was stopped a yard shy of the end zone on a fourth-and-goal play in the game’s final minute. OU lost that day, 17-10.

  “I’m not going to say it wasn’t going through my mind when we started driving in overtime. It was,” admitted Allen. “In that situation, every player wants the ball.”

  Texas had taken a 27-24 lead in the extra session, setting up the Sooners’ late-game heroics. They drove to the Horns’ two, and Allen got the call from there. Touchdown.

  Coach John Blake’s OU squad, which entered the game with an 0-4 record, was a 22-point underdog against the 25th-ranked Horns.

  A Crooner for the Sooners

  Singer-songwriter Toby Keith, a longtime Oklahoma football fan, got his chance to rub shoulder pads with some crimson and cream heroes when he participated in OU’s 1994 Red-White football game. A semi pro football player prior to his successful career in country music, Keith asked the school’s athletic department if he might be allowed to “get in a few moments of action” at the annual event.

  Entertainment Tonight caught it all on film. But as it turned out, Keith, a native of nearby Moore, may have wished he had stayed on the sidelines as a spectator. Inserted as a defensive line replacement on the game’s final series, it took all of two snaps before Keith got his leg caught under another player and suffered a broken ankle.

  After leaving the scene in an ambulance, Keith was forced to cancel a concert scheduled for Tulsa later that night. And while he has remained a loyal OU supporter, he’s limited his game activities to the sidelines.

  The Great Crash

  October 16, 1993, began like so many Saturdays before in Norman, with Oklahoma’s football team on a roll at 5-0 and fresh off of a 38-17 whipping of Texas. The ninth-ranked Sooners were set to host No. 20 Colorado in front of 64,000 strong at Memorial Stadium.

  Gary Gibbs’ program had finally found a groove, and there was actual talk of winning the national title again. But those thoughts were buried that afternoon under an avalanche of misfortune.

  The first sign that it wasn’t going to be the hosts’ day occurred in the second quarter after OU took a 7-0 lead. The Sooner Schooner turned over as it raced around Owen Field celebrating the score.

  It was believed that a restraining piece of the Conestoga between the two ponies—Boomer and Sooner—came loose, allowing the Schooner to jack knife and roll onto its right side. The crash left the horses unharmed, but driver Scott Gibson broke his leg in three places and passenger Ryan Ray suffered facial lacerations. Fortunately, RUF/NEKS queen Jean Connel and passenger Eric Gee endured only bruises.

  The force of the wagon rolling over ripped up a huge chunk of artificial turf that had to be repaired with several strips of silver duct tape.

  Things got worse in the fourth quarter when OU quarterback Cale Gundy was forced to leave after suffering a concussion as a result of his helmet bouncing off the turf. Any hopes for victory exited at that moment.

  Colorado went on to win 27-10. The Sooners lost two more times in ’93, and Oklahoma replaced the old artificial turf with natural grass prior to the 1994 campaign.

  How Many Fingers?

  Oklahoma had been working on hand signals with its defensive backs, pointing out various formations and coverages that arose on the fly. Problem was, starting safety Jason Belser kept forgetting the signals during games, or he would forget to look over and pick up the sign.

  The Sooners were playing Kansas in 1990, and the Jayhawks had come into the contest with a fairly succesful passing game intact. OU assistant Bobby Proctor did his best all week to make sure Belser was well versed in all of the coverage signs.

  “I’d point at my eye, which meant ‘read,’ and then I’d point at my tail, which meant ‘read the tight end,’” recalled Proctor.

  During the game, Proctor kept giving Belser various signs, but the Sooner junior was having trouble picking them up, so he simply ignored his coach. Proctor would remind him after every series, and the two-time All-Big Eight defender never responded.

  Finally, after KU had completed a couple of passes to the tight end, Proctor screamed out to look for the sign. Belser’s response was to shoot his coach the bird, which Proctor returned without hesitation.

  “Jason came over after the play and said, ‘I can’t believe you’d give me the finger like that, Coach,’” added Proctor. “And I told him I was glad that I finally found a sign that he understood.”

  Leave it to Beavers

  There were a few seasons during the decade of the ’90s when finding positives and something to smile about was a bit of a challenge for Oklahoma football players and fans. That was never a problem for Aubrey Beavers, whose sense of humor was a saving grace at times.

  Beavers, a talented linebacker who ended up being a second-round NFL draft pick by Miami, managed to keep the locker room atmosphere light with an endless array of pranks and practical jokes.

  “Besides being a fantastic football player, Aubrey was always the team clown. He loved to talk. He also loved his people and if you were a part of the team, you were part of his family,” said quarterback Cale Gundy, who played with Beavers from 1992-93.

  One of Beavers’ most famous quotes came after the Sooners ended up in 15-15 tie with Bedlam rival Oklahoma State in 1992.

  “This feels so bad,” Beavers said. “Finishing tied with OSU isn’t like kissing your sister, it’s like kissing your ugly twin sisters.”

  The Walk

  There were very few positives about Floward Schnellenberger’s lone seaso
n as OU’s head coach. The pipe-smoking, brash-talking skipper did install one short-lived tradition that Sooner fans loved—The Walk.

  On Saturdays before every home game, Schnellenberger would have his team parade through campus, starting at Sooner House and finishing at Memorial Stadium. Spectators often lined the way and it proved to be a good way of building unity with their fan base.

  OU’s Number-One Fan

  From 1952 to 1994, Oklahoma football was Cecil Samara’s passion. And during that time, the Oklahoma City native was known as OU’s number-one fan, along with his famous 1923 Model T Ford, which was a staple at Sooner home games.

  As the story goes, Samara was angered by a 1952 article in True Magazine that stated the only reason Bud Wilkinson’s OU football program was a success was because Oklahoma’s 700 millionaires paid for it. At the time, Samara had been given an old Model T as payment on a debt, and he decided to make the most of the compensation.

  “We had an uncle who tinkered with cars, and he and my father began working on the Model T to get it running again,” explained Samara’s daughter, Sissy Tubb. “When they were done, they decided to drive it to Dallas for the OU-Texas game, and they put a sign made out of cardboard in the window that read: ‘Sponsored by Oklahoma’s 700 millionaires.’ Well, people got the joke.”

  Samara and the car became regulars from that day on, including countless trips to Dallas for the Red River Rivalry and six trips to the Orange Bowl. Samara continued to refurbish the car over the years, and it eventually became known as “Big Red Rocket.”

  During games, Samara would hang out on the sidelines with the OU RUF/NEKS, the spirit group that continues to maintain the Rocket to this day. His raspy voice would carry into the stands at the north end of Memorial Stadium, “Score defense, score,” or “Orange Bowl. Orange Bowl.”