Monday, November 16, 2020

Amid the Marshall football tragedy, chance meant everything

The resilient spirit of the 1970 Thundering Herd lives on
in the hearts and minds of the Marshall faithful.
(Photo courtesy of Marshall University)
 

By Matthew Gutierrez

     Craig Greenlee remembers thinking that could have been me, and the memories come rushing back.

     Greenlee, a former Marshall University football player, survived the deadliest plane crash in American sports history because he had quit the team. But he lost 37 of his former teammates. The relatively minor decision to leave the team ultimately spared his life.

     “Knowing that I could have been on that plane, the fact that I made a decision and it panned out this way, that still amazes me to this day,” Greenlee, of Winston-Salem, N.C., said this week. “It will always be with me. Those things don’t ever fade.”

     On Nov. 14, 1970, a chartered Southern Airlines plane transporting the players, coaches, spouses, boosters and officials from a game at East Carolina crashed and burned into a wet, foggy hillside two miles from the runway of the Tri-State Airport. An official cause wasn’t determined. All 75 passengers aboard the DC-9 plane were killed instantly upon impact. Greenlee lost dozens of friends, coaches and acquaintances. There were no survivors.

Unmistakable reminder

     Greenlee’s survival is a powerful reminder of the sheer randomness of how the day unfolded, who lived, who died, which families were touched, and whose were impacted forever. Every day, people make seemingly insignificant decisions — to join an organization, to run to the grocery store, to grab a coffee — without realizing the possibilities that our choices lead to. Call it “luck” or “fate.”

     What is clear is the role chance plays in peoples’ lives, every day, and how consequential the small decisions we make can be. No matter how hard we work, how much money we have or who we are, we are all subject to the vagaries of chance.

     “The possibilities of any day are limitless,” Greenlee says. “It taught me there are so many things that can happen at any given time.”

Greenlee played two seasons for the Thundering Herd.

     Marshall is amid one of its best seasons in its FBS history, ranked 15th in the country at 7-0 (as of Nov. 16). The Thundering Herd hammered Middle Tennessee 42-14 last Saturday, which was Nov. 14. It marked 50 years to the day since the tragedy. 

     On that particular game day, a 9 a.m. ceremony was held to commemorate those who died. And 75 banners — each one showing a photograph of one of the 75 victims — were placed around the Huntington, W.Va., campus.

 So many ironies

     The 1970 team cheerleaders survived the crash because there wasn’t enough room on the plane for all to attend the game, and the group had adopted a policy that “all go or none go.” Two local journalists survived because one of their colleagues called in sick that week, and they decided to fill his role at the office by not traveling to the game. 

     One player didn’t make the trip because he overslept on Friday morning, the team’s travel day. Other players, such as defensive backs Tony Barile and Felix Jordan, survived because they had been injured and didn’t travel with the team.

     Ed Carter survived the crash because he had to endure a death shortly prior. The offensive lineman was grieving the death of his father. He flew home to Texas to be with his family and attend the funeral. His mother encouraged him not to return back to Marshall, so he didn’t travel with the team that weekend. 

Lineman reads his own obituary

     His mom’s relatively small decision proved to keep him alive. The next day, when it was assumed he died in the crash, he read his own obituary in the local newspaper.

     Then there was the trio of Marshall players (Bob Harris, Jack Repasy and Mark Andrews) who came from the same Cincinnati high school. Their parents had attended the game, and when it was time to head home Saturday evening, they asked their kids to drive back with them. 

 Players turn down parents' offer to ride back to MU

     But the players, coming off a loss to East Carolina, didn’t want to upset their coach or teammates for not returning with the group. Although the parents pleaded, the players said they preferred just to fly back, and they’d reunite back on campus.    

     “The way that happened, with those three gone because of that seemingly small decision, it’s remarkable,” Greenlee says.

     Greenlee left home in Jacksonville, Fla., to attend Marshall, hoping to earn a scholarship if he made the team. He was one of a growing number of Black players on a team that had only recently begun integrating players of color. He won a spot and played two seasons, 1968 and 1969, but he lost his passion for football toward the end of his sophomore season, and he quit the program when the year ended. 

 Life-changing decision

    He didn’t know at the time how consequential his choice would become. He didn’t know it would essentially determine whether he survived beyond the age of 20.

     Fifty years later, he says the tragedy doesn’t consume him, and he rarely talks about it. He doesn’t usually consider the event, those involved and the consequences until the calendar hits November. 

     Then, amid the second half of the college football season, as the days grow shorter, the reminders become more real. He says he hasn’t necessarily felt classic symptoms of survivor’s guilt. He doesn’t regret his decision to quit the team. Given the circumstances, it was best for him. 

     Still, he deeply grieved the loss of friends, some close, others acquaintances. He felt for Scottie Reese, his best friend on the team, who had agreed to be Greenlee’s best man at his wedding, but died in the crash.

 Overwhelming sorrow

    In an instant, Greenlee was among a population that had lost friends, parents, children, and husbands. The pain was immeasurable. “What makes it heartbreaking is you’re talking about kids who are 20 years old,” Greenlee says. “They are near graduation, before marriage, having families, living life, and then everything is gone.”

     Then Greenlee recalled how, on the evening of the crash, he was preparing to attend an off-campus party. He heard rumors in his dormitory that a plane had crashed, and there were murmurs that it could have been the football team. Soon, there were reports on the radio confirming what the students feared: The plane was indeed the one transporting the team.

     “I made up my mind right there, I’m not going out there to the crash sight,” he says. “I wasn’t sure what I might see. I never wanted to have that memory because I know once you see it, you can’t get rid of it.”

Everlasting snapshot

    For Greenlee, one of the lasting images of the tragedy is of Reese, a linebacker and defensive end from Waco, Texas. Greenlee remembers seeing him for the last time, on campus, with his facial structure, his lean but solid stature at 5-11, 185 pounds, and his smile. He also remembers the way Scottie sounded, the facial expressions he made, and the legacy he left behind.

     “You remember snapshots,” Greenlee says. “You come to grips in some shape or form with your own mortality, and you realize how each day is a gift, a canvas to be worked on, and anything can happen to us at any point.”


Matthew Gutierrez is a staff writer for The Athletic, covering Syracuse basketball and football, as well as golf. He has written for The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal and The Washington Post, among others. Previously, he covered Syracuse basketball and football for The Daily Orange, the student newspaper. A native of Princeton, New Jersey, he is a member of the National Association of Hispanic Journalists.

Sunday, November 15, 2020

Former MU cheerleader works behind the scenes to bolster legacy of '70 Herd

     
Debbra (Bailey) Bowen (far right) was the first
black cheerleader at Marshall University.

     When the movie "We Are Marshall" came out in 2006, the story of the November 14, 1970 plane crash that killed most of Marshall's football team became well known. But now, there's an added twist.

     Thanks to Debbra Bowen, a cheerleader at MU during the late '60s/early '70s, the legacy of that team, coaches and supporters is being immortalized in a different venue -- the Chick-fil-A College Football Hall of Fame.

     Bowen, whose maiden name is Bailey, worked closely with Hall of Fame officials to ensure that the story of the plane crash will never be forgotten. The Hall of Fame now has put together a display that informs and inspires all who visit.

     Check out this link to see posts on Facebook regarding Bowen's work. Kudos to Debbra.

                                                    http:facebook.com/novembereverafter

Saturday, November 14, 2020

50 years later ....

Marshall's Joe Hood
started attracting attention from NFL
scouts in 1970 as a multi-talented running back
in his first varsity season as a sophomore.
(Herald-Dispatch photo archives)

     Wow, here we are. Fifty years -- to the day -- after the fact.
     A half-a-century has passed since November 14, 1970. It was a gut-wrenching night when Marshall University lost most of its football team in a fiery plane crash. 
     Time did not stand still in the wake of the tragedy. Yet, there are still those occasions when I'm frozen in time as I think about my life as a 20-year old ex-college jock at MU.

Talented freshman class
     Two years before the tragedy, I was part of a new wave of football at Marshall. I was on that 1968 freshman team that went undefeated and had all of Huntington, West Virginia in constant buzz mode. 
     There was excitement galore about what Thundering Herd football would be like in the immediate future.
     The high hopes of the team's followers, however, took a big hit in the summer of 1969. Marshall was axed from the Mid-American Conference for recruiting violations. The NCAA came down hard with sanctions which severely limited the program's ability to woo enough top-flight athletes who could make a difference right away.
     The Herd, though, still had ample talent on board for 1970. As things turned out, roster depth became an issue when injuries sidelined key personnel. 
     Even so, Marshall proved to be a pesky opponent. Even in defeat, there was a calm confidence that better days were coming soon.

Unforgettable night
     But then came the crash. There were no survivors among the 75 passengers. All but a handful of players on the 1970 varsity team died when Marshall's charter jet slammed into the side of a hill as it attempted to make a landing at Tri-State Airport.
     In spite of the substantial losses, Marshall made the decision to keep football alive. But the process to achieve stardom was woefully slow and often painful. It would take more than a decade after the crash before the Herd produced a winning season.

     Once the breakthrough came, the Herd went on a roll. Winning conference titles, two (Division I-AA) national championships, along with several post-season bowl games, Marshall gained some national notoriety.

Quite a journey
     Personally, it's been a thrilling experience. I played two years as a safety for the Herd. When I stepped away from the game, I became an intrigued observer. As a result, I've been an eye-witness to arguably the most inspired comeback story in the annals of sports at any level.
     That gives me plenty of reasons to never forget 
     It's appropriate to acknowledge and pay homage to those who perished on that chilly, rainy and foggy night from so long ago. And for me, it will never get old.
     The memories from my time at Marshall are as vivid as ever. And I'm so glad about it. Here's my tip of the hat to the 75.

-Craig T. Greenlee