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| 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.”
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| 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.”
