A blow-by-blow account of how the Aggie-Mercer game became a disappointing "No Contest"
Thunder and lightning interrupt a spirited battle between two highly ranked teams and no one is pleased
I'm calling it the Montgomery Mirage.
At a time when some of our leaders are trying to scrub certain American unpleasantries from the history books, I witnessed firsthand a disappearing act in the Deep South Saturday night, but it had nothing to do with civil rights.
No, we're talking about two nationally ranked college football teams who battled fiercely for nearly three hours on a warm and muggy Alabama night until there were only seven minutes and 46 seconds remaining in the fourth quarter.
But then lightning struck.
Not once or twice or even three times, but regularly for nearly 90 minutes before the football gods, with help from the City of Montgomery and a pair of athletic directors from UC Davis and Mercer University, called the whole thing off.
Declared it never happened. Voided all statistics from the previous 52 minutes and 14 seconds of blood, sweat and tears.
Not even a lonely asterisk in the record books.
The entire game just disappeared among the thunderclaps in the ominous Alabama sky. Poof, into thin air, even if the air was actually thick on this strange and wondrous night.
Makes me wonder if Penn and Teller were in attendance.
Grantland Rice had no trouble sending the Four Horsemen of Notre Dame into football lore, but even he, the Sportswriter of Sportswriters, never witnessed what we did on a Southern summer night in Montgomery's 103-year-old Cramton Stadium.
The rule, no doubt scribbled somewhere in an NCAA notebook, is that a game must be halted for a minimum of 30 minutes any time there is a lightning strike within eight miles of the field of play.
Both teams are directed immediately to their respective locker rooms, while fans are told to exit the stadium. Where they are expected to go is unclear. Perhaps under the bleachers or back to their cars or maybe even deciding it's time to head home and catch the final seven minutes and 46 seconds on TV.
If lightning strikes again - as it did - the clock resets to another 30 minutes.
The only folks remaining on site were all crammed into the hermetically sealed press box. Broadcasters, sportswriters, statisticians, PA announcers, sports information directors and folks important enough in Montgomery to gain access to the free chicken sandwiches afforded to every freeloader present.
After five or six lightning strikes, we all started speculating on what time the sun might be expected to rise.
And then, out of nowhere, much like the thunderbolts we had been experiencing, came the announcement that "The game has been cancelled. It has been declared 'No Contest.' All statistics are voided."
Could you repeat that please?