Dec. 17, 1997
Those of us in the news business are supposed to maintain a veneer
of impartiality — especially when we're sitting in the press box in the
Astrodome, where "cheering" is officially frowned upon.
I had a hard time stifling the giggles during Saturday's state
championship game as it became apparent Katy was on its way to victory;
it was really hard not to remind the writers from the Longview News-Journal,
seated next to us upstairs, of their pre-game predictions of a Lobo blowout.
Professional demeanor won out, though — and I was reduced to
admitting "real surprise" the underdog Tigers had so thoroughly trounced
the nation's third-ranked team.
In the course of 20-plus years in this business, I've seen some
state championship teams before: Stratford's 1979 state champs, the Needville
and East Bernard 1992 state volleyball champs and East Bernard's 1993 state
volleyball champs. Watching each of those teams was exciting and emotional
— but I've got to admit, there was something special about the 1997 state
football championship.
Maybe it was the big grin on the face of KISD Superintendent
Dr. Leonard Merrell as he joined the Tigers on the floor of the Astrodome,
passing out handshakes and congratulating even journalists on the victory.
Maybe it was watching the tug-of-war between the Fox Sports Southwest
crew and the Katy coaching staff — the former trying to line up players
for post-game interviews and the latter trying to get the players together
for the post-game trophy presentation. The stunned smiles never left the
players' faces as they wandered whichever direction they were pulled.
Maybe it was watching kids like linebacker Rusty Bucy seeing
their dreams come true. As I watched him eloquently praise everyone but
himself for the cameras, I had to wonder if maybe he hasn't been an understudy
for Tom Cruise at some point; the delivery was that good.
Maybe it was watching the sheer jubilation on the faces of the
Katy High coaching staff — especially that of head coach Mike Johnston.
Always the low-key sort, coach Johnston had a smile etched on his face
Saturday that would have to be surgically removed if he ever tires of it.
Somehow, I don't think that'll happen.
Certainly it was watching the team, the staff, the cheerleaders,
the Bengal Brigade and that Mighty Band from Tigerland march triumphantly
into Rhodes Stadium for a community-wide pep rally only a couple of hours
later, to a roar of approval from close to 7,000 people. It became apparent
that this wasn't a victory by a football team: it was a victory by a community.
A biting wind and a thin sports jacket eventually left my fingers
too cold to even take notes, but the chill couldn't dispel the warmth in
my heart.
As I climbed into my pickup truck for the jaunt home from Rhodes,
I decided that professional demeanor would have to ride in the back. I
started 'er up, slapped in Queen's "We Are the Champions," jacked
the volume up and rolled down the windows. It felt good.