It was the fall season of 1972, and the Fightin' Tigers of LSU were riding high. Picked as the preseason #1
by Sports Illustrated, LSU's Tiger football roster included the likes of All-Americans Bert Jones, Warren
Capone, and Mike Williams, along with All-conference performers Tyler Lafauci, John Wood, and other great
standouts such as Brad Davis and Jimmy Ledoux.
Ah, it was a great time in college football. The SEC had its Shug Jordan, Bear Bryant, Johnny Vaught, Vince
Dooley, and or course, Charles "Cholly Mac" McClendon. It was a heady time also for a young freshman to
be a student trainer for the Fightin' Tigers. To find himself among those, his boyhood heroes, to actually be
in the same building with them on a daily basis, to be allowed to see them up close, to hear them speak, and
to actually be able to speak back. Ah! What a time! What memories!
I have not been back on campus in several years, but the last time I was there I visited the "L-room" in the
basement of the PMAC. It was my understanding at the time that was where post-game news conferences
were held. I strolled around in the room until I noticed a couple of paintings, which hung on the walls there.
One of the paintings depicted and commemorated Billy Cannon's great 89-yard punt return for a touchdown
against Ole Miss on Halloween night, 1959. The other painting commemorated the last-play touchdown pass
from Bert Jones to Brad Davis in the South end zone of Tiger Stadium. I smiled when I recalled that night
and that play. I was there. As a matter of fact, I was standing between the goal posts on the opposite end
of the field. One of the other trainers and I were supposed to leave the sidelines a few minutes prior to the
end of the game and begin preparations for the players who would be returning to the training room for
treatment. Neither one of us could do it. We had to watch the end of the game, so we stopped short of the
tunnel and stood between the goal posts.
I noticed that the painting was done from the perspective of someone who was looking from the South to
the North, so I took a closer look. Sure enough! Right there in the painting, standing between the goal
posts at the other end -- the North end -- are two stick figures -- way too small and far away to reveal any
meaningful details, but there we were! Wow! My portrait hangs in the L-Room! You cannot tell it's me, but
..., oh, well!
In the fall of 1972 I was a student trainer for the LSU football team. Chicago was singing "Saturday in the
Park," and Bert Jones was all the rage at quarterback. These were great times to be an LSU fan, both
football and unbeknownst to most of us then, basketball: LSU had just hired a new basketball coach -- some
unknown guy from somewhere called Minot, North Dakota."
But football had always reigned supreme in Tiger Town, and 1972 was to be no exception. 1972 was to be
one of the more memorable seasons in Tiger football lore. We couldn't know it then, but our beloved
coach, LSU's greatest ever coach, "Cholly Mac," had only a few more years to coach. 1972 would be the
season in which Charles McClendon would become the all-time winningest football coach at LSU. His
moment would come following the 35 - 7 win over Auburn in Tiger Stadium. After the game, Coach
McClendon's wife rewarded him with a plaque, which congratulated him on his accomplishment. On the
plaque Mrs. MclClendon had the engraver include the score of the game. When Coach McClendon, only
moments after the end of the game saw the plaque, he looked at his wife all wide-eyed and proclaimed:
"How did you know what the score was going to be ahead of time?" Naturally, everybody laughed. Mrs.
McClendon had the engraver on hand to finish the job as soon as the game was over.
One afternoon after practice there were several players in the training room receiving treatment for first
one thing then another: First-team, All-American quarterback Bert Jones was in the whirlpool; First-team,
All-American Warren Capone was on a table receiving treatment on his ankle; and First-team, All-American
defensive tackle John Wood was receiving treatment on his shoulder when Cholly Mac strolled in.
Stopping in the middle of the room he began to rant about all the players who were in there receiving some
sort of attention or another, cursing and railing, calling them all a bunch of "babies" and "old ladies," and
other such terms, which we shall not repeat here. He called Bert Jones a [deleted]. Warren Capone, he
referred to as a [deleted]. He took one look at John Wood and called him a [deleted].
I happened to be standing by a table nearby when Charles McClendon turned to me. Uh, oh. Now I'm gonna
get it. The only coach I had ever known, my childhood idol, the man on campus, Charles Y. McClendon was
about to spew forth his wrath upon a frail and helpless freshman. Coach Mac had just finished dressing
down what was then among the greats of the grid iron -- surely what they endured was nothing to that,
which I was now about to experience. Coach Mac walked up to me and pointed his finger right in my face.
"Hey son, you got a band-aid? I cut my finger."
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