Adams: Strike up the band and learn about Cal

Since the Tennessee-Cal rivalry consists of only three games, most UT fans have a limited knowledge of the Golden Bears. For younger UT fans, that knowledge is limited to one word, “overrated,” which is where the series left off last September.

The Vols scored the first 35 points before shifting into neutral and coasting to a 35-18 victory in the 2006 season opener. Most of that was accomplished to the tune of “Rocky Top,” which finally gave way to a chant of “over-rated” in the fourth quarter. The chant was harsh but appropriate for the nation’s 12th-ranked team, which performed more like the SEC’s 12th-ranked team.

More astute college football fans remember something else about Cal football. They remember “The Play, which was so spectacular no nickname could do it justice. So it became known simply as “The Play.”

I won’t insult your sports knowledge by explaining “The Play,” which in some ways didn’t look that much different from other Pac-10 games in that the losing defense sometimes tackled like the school band. Only in this case, Stanford’s defense actually did include the band.

Note to anyone who watched the first three quarters of last season’s opener at Neyland Stadium: Despite insulting rumors to the contrary, Cal’s band didn’t play a minute of defense.

But the purpose of this literary effort is not to recount the misfortune that befell the Golden Bears last September. Instead, I hope to enlighten you about a football program that had plenty of tradition before the Stanford band took the field in the fourth quarter 25 years ago.

Stanford Axe

How could anyone forget the axe-wielding Stanford tuba player who sought revenge against Cal for its five-lateral touchdown play?

Anyone who attended the Cal-Stanford baseball game April 15, 1899, knows I’m kidding. The Stanford Axe, which was a 15-inch steel blade on a 4-foot handle, originally was on display in the Stanford cheering section. After the baseball game, Cal student “wrestled the axe from the Stanford students” and took it back to their campus. A few years later, Stanford student stole back the axe.

The stealing might have gone back and forth for years if alumni from the two schools hadn’t taken a more civil approach. They agreed the Axe should be awarded annually to the winner of the Cal-Stanford game.

Scary thought: An axe in the possession of anyone at the Auburn-Alabama game.

Tightwad Hill

If you want to watch Tennessee football for free, Sept. 1 might be your only chance. All you need are a backpack, a pair of binoculars, and directions to Tightwad Hill, which earned its nickname more than 80 years ago.

The hill, which is high above the East side of California Memorial Stadium, gives fans a distant view of Cal football, and they don’t even need a ticket. I’m just guessing, but it’s probably akin to sitting on the top row of Neyland Stadium, except that you have more room and don’t need a ticket.

You also have a cannon nearby. It’s to the right of the hill and is fired before the game and whenever Cal scores a touchdown against the Stanford band, or anyone else for that matter.

Scary thought: A cannon in the possession of anyone at the Auburn-Alabama game.

Wrong Way Riegels

Long before Cal ran through the Stanford band, Roy Riegels ran the wrong way.

In the 1929 Rose Bowl between Cal and Georgia Tech, the Yellow Jackets fumbled on their own 30-yard line. Riegels picked up the football and headed for the end zone. For clarity’s sake, let’s call it “the right end zone.”

In the process of trying to elude Georgia Tech defenders, Riegels quickly confused more than his opponent. The next thing you know, he was headed for “the wrong end zone.”

Riegels made it all the way to the Cal 1-yard line before a teammate stopped him. That’s where he was buried beneath a heap of Yellow Jackets.

On the next play, Cal elected to punt. That went the wrong way, too. Georgia Tech blocked it for a safety and a 2-0 lead on the way to an 8-7 victory.

Joe Kapp

The All-American quarterback led Cal to its last Rose Bowl (1959) and further distinguished himself by not running the wrong way. Unfortunately, Cal’s defense — in a performance worthy of the Stanford band — gave up 429 yards rushing in a 38-12 loss to Iowa.

In 1969, Kapp tied an NFL record by throwing for seven touchdowns in a single game. That same year, he led the Minnesota Vikings to the Super Bowl, which they lost decisively to Kansas City.

But Kapp didn’t always lose the big game. As Cal’s head coach in 1982, he was the mastermind behind The Play. I’m not exactly sure of his last-second instructions, but I assume they sounded something like, “Keep throwing it behind you and run the right way.”

Sports editor John Adams may be reached at 865-342-6284 or adamsj@knews.com.