Something was mitsing in
By Rick Starr
Fran Fisher led a pep rally that
could be heard beyond the mezzanine
When things finally became unbearable. Judge, the Baylor mascot, chewed up the ball
Impressions on the 39th Cotton Bowl
Photo by Eric Felack
DALLAS—AII of downtown Dallas
reflects on the Solarban glass walls of the
First International Building, , a shim
mering tower that even rises above the
Bank of Texas across the street. The
reflections are distorted in places by the
corners of the building and tbe moldings of
the windows.
It was sometime late Tuesday afternoon
when the alcohol began to take hold and
the reflection of the Holiday Inn lost its
distortion. To the left, beyond the steam
and smoke of a dozen blocks of -low in
dustrial buildings stood the twin towers of
the Fairmont Hotel, Penn State’s team
headquarters and the closest thing in
Dallas to a Miami Beach palace.
That afternoon the chandeliered, red
velvet luxury of the Fairmont lobby was
vibrating as the Nittany Lion Fight Song
began to warm up the Penn State Cotton
Bowl pep rally. Hundreds of Lion fans who
had been gathering around post card
racks and steakhouses for five days came
souped up and ready to roar, enough to
outnumber the kids hocking game
programs and the cash bartenders
working around the edges of the Grand
Ballroom.
The crowds in Dallas were good. They
had better material than comedian David
Frye, who was fencing with the audience
nightly in the Fairmont’s Venetian Room.
And they showed such bar room en
thusiasm at the Monday night per
formance of Godspell that by the end some
couldn’t tell Jesus from Judas Iscariot. By
the time the pep rally got rolling, the
crowd was primed.
In one corner of the ballroom a red
vested bartender, a student at the
University of Texas, was laughing. “I
recognize some of those faces,” he said,
pointing to the line of Penn State football
players on the stage. “I’ve seen some of
them out on the town. Real late. Like till
around 3 a.m-.”
Onstage, John Cap) elletti and the crowd
were exchanging g iod natured barbs.
“Nice game Sunda;,” a man shouted,
referring to the Los Angeles Rams’ loss to
the Minnesota Vikings. “Why don’t you
come and play for the Eagles!” another
guy yelled. “You’ll have to talk to the
management,” Cappelletti said to loud
approval.
Then it was Lion coach Joe Patemo’s
turn to stick a friendly needle in Cappy,
Penn State’s- first and only Heisman
Trophy winner. “We’re now in better'
shape physically than since the season
began,” Patemo said. “And I don’t think it
will be like the Sugar Bowl two years ago.
I don’t think anybody will chicken out this
time.”
There was a dull silver sky over the gray
concrete walls of the Cotton Bowl on New
Year’s Day. Down in the bo\yl, the final
preparations for the classic were un
derway. !
Judge, the little black bear cub that
Baylor uses for its mascot, was romping
and playing with a football in (he center of
a ring of photographers and cameramen.
At one point he romped a little too far out
of the circle and his trainer stomped
down on his chain. That brought him to a
very quick and complete stop-. Judge was
then dragged back into tbe middle of the
photographers and a football was shoved
into his stomach. Frustrated, he chewed it
up. , '
in front of the Penn State bench a high
school majorette in tight red hot pants and
white boots was shivering too hard to keep
her knees still. At one end of the bench sat
Cappelletti, his black hair spilling onto the
collar of a soft leather coat. Between
Cappelletti and the najorette was a bright
yellow cameramai from Waco television
station KWTX. The station had seven
cameramen on the field filming for a one
and a half hour special on the Baylor foot
ball team—but only if it won. “If the Bears
lose today,” one cameraman said, “there
won’t be a specia .”
One at a time, the officials began to
appear at the doorway of their dressing
room, but none looked very anixous to
have the game begin. In the nearby Penn
State locker room, evangelist Billy
Graham and Penn State President John
Oswald were providing last minute
distractions.
As Penn State took the field, Greg
Murphy took his last pre-game som
"mersault in front of the bench. Most of the
seniors.sjiook each others hands in a way
that wds more solemn and genuine than
usual. In their faces and handshakes were
many different feelings: friendship, ex
citement, nervousness, fear and a
knowledge that tl/ eir last college game at
Penn State was ready to begin. When
everything, was .ready and the game
hadn’t started, P«nn State’s All-America ’
defensive tackle Mike Hartenstine sat
down by himself and moved his knees,
back and forth, wanting to lose his ner
vousness, to have the contest begin.
By halftime, the uncertainty as to
Baylor’s strength and speed was gone. At
that point, the players said afterward, .
they knew they could take Baylor. Early
in the third period, just before the gates
broke open, Paterno took off his coat. “I
Photo by Ira Joffe