1968 Orange Bowl -- the adventure of my lifetime

Al Eschbach, the "Sports Animal's" Hall of Fame broadcaster, and I both sought to be "OU Daily's" sports editor for the Sooners' redeeming 1967 season. Lesser qualified, I fully expected him to win, and Al would have done a much better job. But my GPA was a bit better, and I lucked into the thrill ride of a lifetime that launched my crazy career.

     First came the adventurous road trips with amazing student photographers Jim Shawberger and Mark Miller. They were so good that OU actually paid for them to rent a Cessna and, yes, fly it to Colorado themselves. Oh, and they took me along as a hitchhiker.

    Jim flew with Mark serving as navigator. Me? I held my breath as we survived hitting a flock of birds and then not finding Boulder's runway. We continually circled, looking for something that was continually hidden under our banking wing. Then they forgot to figure in the mile high altitude into their landing speed and came just two feet from tumbling the plane off the end of the runway.

     I don't remember much about the game after a Buff linebacker missed a Sooner ball carrier and tackled me on the sideline. The blow knocked me into the 4th quarter with a concussion. The fact OU lost doesn't help my memory either.

  But my greatest adventure came after Oklahoma went on to win the Big 8 to earn an Orange Bowl birth.

     By the way, I admit hating orange in all hues, but the mist of those exploding orbs -- rained down atop us on Owen Field by exuberant fans -- defined for me the sweet smell of Sooner success 

   OU's J School didn't send me to Miami, but I still obtained a press pass as a keepsake. Lucky I did, because my parents' Christmas present was a plane ticket to Miami -- given just a week before the New Year's Day game when hotels are full.

     So I boarded the flight actually planning to sleep on the beach, not knowing that was illegal. Already seated were the Sooner cheerleaders, one of whom remembered me for deflecting players off the girls, who often have their backs to the action. She suggested I start my search for a room at their ritzy hotel -- and dang if they didn't have a cancellation. Woohoo!

     So there I was on Miami beach, playing volleyball with the OU ladies, when the Super Bowl began in the hotel bar where I now was of drinking age. Ah, but Green Bay beat my Cowboys, and I staggered off to my room where I did NOT hear the knock at my door when the cheerleaders came to take me to the best New Year's party in Miami. Sigh!

     That same Christmas my fiance gave me a Ouija Board, which hauntingly predicted Oklahoma would beat Tennessee, 26-24. So, since I was bad at prognostication, I published that as my pick. 

    In the Orange Bowl press box writers were asked their predictions. Mine was ruled out at halftime with OU way ahead.

    Ah, but the Volunteers rallied and the score was, gulp, 26-24 as Tennessee lined up a makeable field goal. And I couldn't help but notice writers warily looked my way. Whew, the kick missed, and this student basked in admiration from veteran reporters as the only one who nailed the actual final score. 

    That demonic board scared me, however, and -- although a heathen back then -- I knew enough to throw it in the trash as soon as I got back home.