Rice at Tiger Stadium, 1971: The Crowd and Mike

Definitely a different era. I'm glad Mike isn't prodded anymore, but hey, the dilapidated visitors' locker room might not be a bad idea. This is from Saturday's Children, by Giles Tippette, an account of the Rice 1971 season. I read the book in high school and just found a copy.

They went into their dressing room in the field house under the huge concrete stadium stands. The dressing room was a shabby, dilapidated affair, cramped and hot. It was not air conditioned and it was a muggy, sultry afternoon. With the number of players crowding in, it almost immediately became unbearable. A small fan chugged along in the middle of the room, but it didn't do much more than stir the humid air.

The LSU dressing room was in sharp contrast to that for the visitors. It was spacious, modern and air-conditioned.

As the game neared, the threatening rain began to turn into the reality of a steady drizzle. The 60,000 seat stadium was already full, but the fans didn't seem to mind the rain. A few umbrellas sprouted, but it was mostly raincoats and don't-give-a-damn attitudes.

The players were dressing. They moved slowly in the close humid room, their bodies glistening with sweat.

Unlike most stadiums, the door to the visitors' dressing room was directly accessible to the public. With the game getting closer, a crowd had gathered outside the Rice door and were chanting, "TIGER BAIT! TIGER BAIT! TIGER BAIT!"

The players were dressed and ready to go out for warmup, but Peterson kept them back. He wanted to take the field right on the heels of the LSU team. He knew that when the Tigers took the field there would be an immense roar from the crowd, and he wanted his team to share in it. It might have a good psychological effect.

But the minutes kept passing and there was no sign of LSU. Peterson had a student manager watching their door and he'd ask nervously, "Any sign of them yet?" The manager would shake his head.

It became imperative that the quarterbacks and kickers begin warming up, and Peterson told them to go just outside and throw a few.

Finally, Rice had to take the field. They came out to a dead silence. And then, just as they'd set up to do their drills, the Tigers came out and the stands went crazy. The noise, in the bottom of the huge bowl, was almost deafening. The Rice players stopped what they were doing and simply stared. They'd heard crowds before and they'd heard about this crowd, but they never imagined that noise could have such a physical force.

The coaches shouted them back to their work, but the little interplay had had its effect.

Peterson thought: Damn that Charlie McClendon.

Peterson had a good pre-game speech planned. It was an unusually long one because he felt that the players were way down and would need a lot of pumping up. He started slowly, striding up and down in front of a blackboard and puffing on his cigar.

Outside the Rice dressing room, the LSU cheerleaders had wheeled their mascot up in his cage. Their mascot was a huge Bengal tiger. He paced nervously back and forth as the cheerleaders positioned his cage right under an open window beside the Rice dressing room. One of the tiger's handlers took an electric prod and gave the tiger a hot shot. He let out an enormous roar.

Inside the dressing room the players jumped. Joe Buck said shakily, "My God, what the hell is that?"

Peterson looked sour. He knew what it was. "All right," he said loudly. "Let me have your attention. Don't bother with that. That's just their goddam pussycat."

But all through Peterson's talk the tiger roared. Peterson kept boring on steadily, but the roars were awesome. Some of the players could not keep their eyes from straying occasionally to the window.

And now the chanting crowd had returned and they were singing, "TIGER BAIT! TIGER BAIT! TIGER BAIT!"

An official stuck his head in the door and said, "three minutes."

Peterson wound up his talk and the players knelt to pray. They began, in unison, "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will ..."

And the tiger roared.

And the crowd chanted.

They went out the door trotting, but they were trotting slowly.

from Saturday's Children, by Giles Tippette, pp. 183-4.