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Memories of a Marshall Game The recent We Are…Marshall movie filming brought back memories to this 45-year-old Marshall alumnus—memories of this man nearly 35 years ago, as a 10-year-old boy, attending his first Marshall football game. There weren't many opportunities for a young boy on the slightly good side of poverty from the hollows of Wayne County to have extra money to go to a Marshall football game. I was just "lucky" enough to have an uncle who worked in the Maintenance Department at Marshall. By rising at the break of dawn, along with my cousin, I earned the right to be at my first Marshall game ever against a team I had never heard of before, Xavier University. We received free admission by agreeing to help clean the stadium of trash left over from the previous night's Huntington High Pony Express game. As a bonus, we were allowed to keep the money we found mingled with the trash, apparently dropped from the pockets of those wealthy people from Huntington we heard so much about. I remember I just couldn't understand how someone could just drop money and not stoop to pick it up, but I was forever grateful for the soda pop, candy and popcorn it allowed me to purchase at the concession stand later that day. Spending that money was a true luxury for us. I remember my uncle explaining to the person in charge at Fairfield Stadium that day, "These boys have worked hard all day helping to clean the stadium. Would you mind if they stayed to watch the game?" How could he possibly say no? I remember the Gino's Pizza guy overhearing the conversation and offering my cousin and me a whole pizza, and a soda apiece, for our efforts. I remember seeing a buffalo for the first time, first inside a cage on a trailer, and later trying to graze for grass on a plastic grass field. I remember the thrill of being allowed to run the length of the field long before the game started and running throughout the stands during the game, because we didn’t have assigned seats. I remember thinking how big the stadium was and that I had never seen this many people in one place. I remember how loud the noise was in that large stadium as I placed my hands over my ears, just because a naked bootleg pass on the very last play of the game earned Marshall the win that day. Little did I know that it was not merely a win – but a victory for the ages for Marshall – my future alma mater! It's hard for a 10-year-old boy to fathom the magnitude of this, his very first Marshall game. For all he knew, people always cried when Marshall won a game. For all he knew, people always stayed in the stands well after the game had been won, returning their eyes to the heavens constantly. For all he knew, Marshall fans were crazy and always ran onto the field, risking injury by jumping onto the field from the wall at the foot of the stands. For all he knew, everyone in the big city of Huntington knew each other because they all seemed to be greeting and hugging one another, all the while flashing a smile in the middle of a cry that sometimes seemed sad, but more often seemed joyous. Thirty-five years, two Marshall degrees, and many, many more football games later, it's much easier to understand because yes, Marshall fans are crazy. Crazy cheering their team while filled with the memories of those lost to an indescribable tragedy. Crazy because they chose to ignore that tragedy and continued, despite the pleas of many to quit. Crazy because they truly believe that in the midst of that tragedy greatness will rise from the ashes. But most of all, crazy because, “We Are…Marshall!” |
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