The first football player I ever met was Eric Cross.
It was 1971 and Cross was a flanker on the Stanford team that upset undefeated Ohio State in the Rose Bowl, just a few months earlier. This was a big deal at my school, Sunnyvale's De Anza Elementary. An evening assembly was held to show the "Rose Bowl movie," and two players – Cross and defensive back Dennis Bragonier – were there to present the film.
On the reel-to-reel projector that filled the screen in the multi-purpose room, Cross tore past the Ohio State defense for a 41-yard run before being corralled short of the goal line. The play helped set the tone for Stanford's 27-17 victory over the No. 1 Buckeyes.
In the autograph scrum afterward, I found myself face to face with Cross, and all I could think was to give him advice on how not to get tackled. In my vast experience, at age 7, of playing football with my friends at the park after school, I knew exactly what move he needed to make to avoid that defender and get into the end zone. And I proceeded to tell him so.
With a look that said, You've got to be kidding, Cross proceeded to sign some other kid's sheet of torn binder paper without a reply.
Despite my dubious introduction, Stanford football has been part of my life ever since.
In 1969, my dad was hired as a computer programmer at Stanford during a period of turmoil on campus that included riots with tear gas. Students occupying the president's office at Encina Hall, ravaged the Stanford Research Institute, and seized the Computational Center while aiming to shut down the university.
Given the stories I heard at home, Stanford certainly was an exciting place, and that carried over to the football team. With a Rose Bowl victory and Jim Plunkett's Heisman Trophy, Stanford football was a hot topic at our games-until-dark at De Anza Park.
Finally, perhaps with some insistence, my dad took me to my first game, on Sept. 25, 1971. Stanford against Oregon.
The Ducks featured future NFL Hall of Famer Dan Fouts at quarterback and Bobby Moore, the future Ahmad Rashad, at running back. Oregon was a team with high hopes coming into this Pac-8 tilt, with a one-two punch as good as any in the conference.
The day was clear and mild and Stanford Stadium, with its 86,900 seating capacity, was vast indeed. This was the home fans' first look at quarterback Don Bunce, the fifth-year senior from nearby Woodside who had the misfortune of being in the same class at Plunkett, and stayed an extra year to finally get a crack at the starting job.
The season began with a pair of victories – 19-0 at Missouri and 38-3 at Army – that seemed to prove that the Indians could threaten for a Rose Bowl berth yet again.
The atmosphere was as great a spectacle as the game. The area behind the Stanford bench was the territory of Prince Lightfoot of the Yurok tribe who performed traditional dances at Stanford games for more than 20 years.
The revolutionary Stanford band was at its irreverent creative best, but still was playing Indian-themed fight songs. "All Right Now" still was a few months away from its LSJUMB debut.
For some reason, my mom would use Stanford games as the opportunity to shell walnuts. She brought several large paper bags – one filled with walnuts, another for the shells, and a third for the newly-liberated nuts themselves. The rising and falling crescendo of each play was met with the "crack" of a walnut. Clearly, the clear-bag policy was not in place during the 1970s.
By far the most entertaining non-football aspect of the game, was the flinging of Carnation Malted Milk lids onto the field. From the end zone benches, this was more than a pastime. Wooden spoons could be fastened together to form boomerangs, and the stacks of Stanford Daily newspapers at the gates begged to be torn into confetti or launched as paper airplanes. Beer and soda pull-tabs? Great rocket-launchers.
The air hummed with flying objects – malted milk lids, paper airplanes, and wooden-spoon contraptions until debris filled the track and littered the end zone. A roar erupted whenever an object soared deep past the goal line … the 10! … the 20! … the 30!
The game's accompanying soundtrack was provided by the deep understated tones of Ed Macauley, who served as public-address announcer nearly every season from 1952-92. Decades of Stanford Stadium memories are incomplete without a backdrop of Macauley's "Bunce to Miles Moore!" or "Elway to Margerum!"
Before the Internet, Macauley announced scores of the nation's top games, and always added Slippery Rock.
Oregon seemed every bit the Pac-8 contender in 1971. Moore would rush for 150 yards on 29 carries against Stanford and Fouts threw a touchdown pass that helped the Ducks climb from a 17-0 deficit to within 17-14. But Fouts suffered a knee injury in the second quarter and was a second-half no show, as Stanford extended its lead.
Bunce hit Miles Moore deep for 78 yards and again for 41. Bunce followed with a 36-yard pass that sophomore John Winesberry, in his first home varsity game, caught with his fingertips at the goal-line to complete the scoring. It was Bunce's third TD pass of the game.
"I wasn't misquoted before when I said Bunce is as good as Plunkett was," Oregon coach Jerry Frei said. "After this game I still believe. Could I believe anything else?"
At the conclusion, young fans bolted from the splinter-infested bleachers, weaved through the narrow tunnels, skirted the crowded staircases, and sprinted across Angell Field to intercept the players before they could enter the locker room a half-mile away at Encina Gym. With the twin gryphon statues standing guard, a supply of autographs, chin straps, bloody towels, and sweaty wristbands were treasures to be had.
It was just one day and one game. But for one Stanford fan, it was the first of a lifetime.
David Kiefer, age 6