The dawning of a new year spawns a dichotomy of simultaneously looking forward and backwards in time. We embrace the promises of the future, and we relive memorable times of the past.
New Year’s Day is typically a rather laid back holiday. Around here, we eat pork and sauerkraut, watch the Rose Parade and a ton of football games, and fall asleep on the recliner. But, one particular New Year’s Day in my life long ago was anything but relaxing. It was one of the most exciting days of my life.
In 1968, I was an engineering student at Penn State and was a member of the marching Blue Band. That year, we marched and played our way through the football team’s undefeated season of 11 wins. Soon the news arrived that Penn State was going to the Orange Bowl in Miami to play against the University of Kansas on New Year’s night, and the Blue Band was going along. The icing on the cake was that we were going to fly to Miami, which was great news since we had endured a rather unpleasant train trip to Jacksonville, Fla., for the Gator Bowl a year earlier.
For about two weeks, we rehearsed our halftime show with vigor, driven by our directors Jim Dunlop and Ned Diehl, and when we finally boarded the buses at Beaver Stadium, we were ready for the big event. The buses took us to the airport in Pittsburgh, where we boarded a Boeing 727 headed for Miami.
The bus trip to Pittsburgh took longer than the flight to Miami. This was the first time I had ever flown on any aircraft, and I was excited about it. I remember the captain saying we were flying at something like 35,000 feet at 525 miles per hour, and I was amazed. It was about 20 degrees and snowing when we took off, and I remember being a little scared looking out the window and not seeing the ground. But a minute later, we broke through the clouds into brilliant sunshine and a sea of fluffy clouds below us, and it was beautiful. In a little more than two hours we touched down in Miami in 60 degree weather, and disembarked from the plane, clad in heavy overcoats and hats, drawing stares from the locals, who must have known we were Penn Staters from the north.
We rode buses to our hotel in Fort Lauderdale and checked in. The hotel was across a highway from the beach. We had some free time, so about 100 Pennsylvania boys hit the beach. It was the first time I had ever seen the ocean, and I was once again amazed.
On New Year’s Eve, we marched down Miami’s Biscayne Boulevard in the Orange Bowl Parade. When lining up, we walked by a float with the parade’s grand marshals Lorne Greene, of the TV show “Bonanza” and pop singer Anita Bryant — a brush with celebrities. Part of Biscayne Boulevard had been painted white and illuminated by floodlights for the TV cameras. I was nervous as we passed through that area, since we were on national television.
New Year’s Day was relaxing, but as the evening game time approached, tension mounted. When we arrived at the Orange Bowl stadium, I suddenly realized that this was the big time, with a crowd of about 75,000 compared to Beaver Stadium’s typical 50,000 in those days.
As the game began, I had no idea that I would soon witness one of Penn State’s most fabled game finishes. The game was a low-scoring defensive battle, with Kansas leading by a 14-7 score in the final minute, feeling confident of a win. But the Lions moved the ball to the 3-yard line and, on third down, quarterback Chuck Burkhart rambled around the left end for a touchdown with just 15 seconds remaining. Since PSU had endured a disappointing tie in the Gator Bowl a year earlier, Paterno decided to go for the win and opted to try a two-point conversion. Rolling to his right, Burkhart tried to hit Campbell for the win but Kansas defenders swatted the ball away. By that time, all of us Blue Band members were gathered on the sideline, near the goal line.
Delirious Kansas fans began their celebration, cheering wildly and pouring onto the field. No one seemed to notice a penalty flag on the ground until a referee waved it over his head. It took several minutes for security people to clear the field so Penn State could try a second time for the two-pointer. With my heart pounding, I watched as, just a few feet in front of me, Bob Campbell crashed over the goal line to seal a 15-14 win for the Lions. We went totally nuts. We jumped and screamed, laughed, and even shed a few tears.
I heard later that Burkhart was supposed to give the ball to Charlie Pittman, but changed his mind at the last second, handing it off to Campbell instead. It was the right decision, as Pittman was immediately swarmed under by several Kansas defenders.
KU defensive back Rick Abernethy will forever be remembered as the fabled “12th man” on that play. A substitution mix-up by Kansas created the situation which doomed them. I read that when game films were reviewed later it was discovered that Kansas actually had 12 men on the field for four consecutive plays.
College football history was made that night, and I was there to see it close up. Now that’s a memorable New Year’s Day!
