FROM THE DISTAFF END OF THE BENCH (2007 edition) Notes and Comments from Rice's No. 1 Fan By Joyce Pounds Hardy '45

This time, 'next year' really means something

HOUSTON (Nov. 25) -- I stood in the rain Saturday clapping for those seniors who were wearing Rice Blue for the last time. I wanted sunshine for their last game,  I wanted more points on the scoreboard than Tulsa when the game was over, I wanted 30,000 fans in the stands cheering for them, I wanted Todd Graham to see that we didn't need him to be winners. Well, one out of four isn't too bad on a miserable, cold, rainy Thanksgiving holiday weekend.

I can't remember ever being as cold as I was Saturday. The wind was relentless, and the rain was biting as it blew through the stands, the boxes, and these old bones on the West side. I had on my football jacket for luck and every Owl that I could pin or hang around my neck, but they weren't enough to keep me warm or win the game. I was tempted to stay up in the Stadium Club, high and dry, after halftime, but I was too far from the players and I had promised them that they could hear me hollering.

However, our players didn't need amulets or talismans to work some sort of voodoo on the field, what they possessed were guts and determination.This battered and wounded team fought beyond its powers to stay in the game, knowing they had a chance to win if they didn't quit. We broke a lot of records, but we couldn't put a 'W' in the record book.

As our guys fought back time and time again, chipping away at Tulsa's lead, I know TG was surprised. He didn't expect that kind of battle, no matter what his mouth said for the newspapers (and nobody knows better than we not to believe what his mouth says,) Rice surprised the heck out of him.

We ground out our points the hard way. Heroic passes, catches, runs, goal line stands and three and outs (how beautiful they were), Chase tucking the ball and running again, nine different receivers, five different touchdown scorers, only a few horizontal passes (thank heavens), holes for the running backs, and making it all possible were tough-minded, hard-hitting offensive and defensive linemen that tackled and blocked their hearts out.

I wasn't happy to see Tulsa go down the field in giant leaps, wide open on long passes, juking through our specialty teams, starting too many of their drives in our territory. By the end of the first quarter, I was thinking: UH OH, 4 times 20 does not bode well for us.

I kept looking at those fancy bright, royal blue "capes" the Hurricanes were wearing on the sidelines to keep themselves dry and warm. Our guys didn't even have jackets on, but I concluded that the fervor of their passion to win (and they had it, Coach) was all they needed.

This team played for each other and they played for their coaches whom they respect and know are there for them. I've witnessed it on the practice field and it's real. It promises great things for next year.

When the game was over, I stood once again clapping and singing All for Rice's Honor, my hands forming the War Owl, my head turned away from my sons so they couldn't see my tears.

E-mail Joyce....

Editor's note: Joyce Pounds Hardy graduated from the Institute in its athletics glory days. She sent a whole generation of Hardy children to Rice, as both students and student- athletes -- that familiarly-named classmate of yours was almost surely one of them. Joyce has been among Rice's most omnipresent, loyal, never-say-die fans since before most of you were born -- and you'd better believe she's managed to develop an opinion or two about Rice athletics over the years. We're extremely happy to be able to welcome her back to our pages.  And to those of you relative newcomers who haven't had the opportunity yet to sample her thoughts, be prepared for a treat -- and be ready, also, to learn some things you didn't know about our storied university and its rich history.

For more on Joyce, see The tradition lasts long after the flavor is gone, Rice News, July, 2007.

Not what we wanted to see

HOUSTON (Nov. 18) -- No smiles this Saturday. In fact, if there is such a thing as Black Saturday, I just experienced it. I guess I thought our guys could walk on water after two miraculous wins in a row. We had "jelled," now everyone seemed to be on the same page, but something went awry. We looked confused again and it broke my heart.

I came away from the game numb. Why the high snaps to Clement? Every play he had to jump to catch the ball, as if the center were trying to get it over his head. If Chase had a play in mind, he had to wait until he hit the ground to execute it. I know that our starting center is hurt, but the young replacement must have been a long snapper in high school and can't bring it down. If that didn't squash our rhythm, I don't know what could be worse.

And while I'm worrying about Chase, why didn't he tuck that ball and run more? It was almost as if he didn't want to be selfish and keep the ball so much. Instead of running for 150 yards, which is one of the reasons we beat SMU, he opted to hand off or lateral or pass most of the time. There's a whole lot of difference between 150 yards and 26.

I know he was running for his life because his pocket disintegtated, but if he had tucked that ball, as he can do so well, and run for the open field in front of him, I think the game would have had a different ending. He is the only sure weapon we have in the backfield. Of course, I was sitting 46 rows up and could see that open field in front of him, but for some reason, this week he couldn't.. I kept yelling, "run, Chase, run!" but he couldn't hear me.

Jarrett made some unbelievable leaping catches as usual, 9 for 87 yards, below his average but his two touchdowns were oh so sweet. Nine receivers catching the ball was impressive, but way too many passes were for two or three yards, way short of the ten we usually needed. I'm not knocking the fact that Chase had 345 yards passing, including the two touchdowns made by James Casey with some fine running after his catches, it's just that 23 yards total rushing by Rice hurt. I think we are going to have to accept the fact that those horizontal passes to our backs running down the line of scrimmage do not work.

 I was surprised to see that Rice was penalized only 6 times, it felt like 20. We certainly missed the two touchdowns our defense has been giving us. All of our guys played their hearts out; I know how hard they prepared for this game and how much they wanted to win. Unfortunately, Tulane didn't make many mistakes and their not-so-secret tailback, Forte, reached a record 2,007 yards of offense, with 194 of those yards on our turf Saturday. Not what I wanted to see. He ran through our line, not like a bulldozer, but more like Moses parting the Red Sea on his way to the goal line.

I know I'm being grouchy today, but Saturday was a tough one for me. It began with a funeral in the morning for a very dear friend and ended with two more funerals, one on the football field and one on the basketball court. Rice and I did not have a happy day.

At least, Rice won the baseball game the next day, Sunday. Blue against Gray, the final game of Fall Ball. Without a working scoreboard, I have no idea who won, but it was a W on an otherwise pretty dismal weekend. The good news is that in spite of a three inch rain that morning, the field was high and dry. Even the sun came out to celebrate with us.

It was the first time I had smiled all weekend.

Chase did it again -- with help from 21 of his best friends

HOUSTON (Nov. 12) -- Yes, I was in church this morning, thanking the Good Lord for answered prayers. The players may have been cool and calm on the sideline, but I wasn't. Not that I didn't believe they could and have come back more times than this old heart can count, but down to one second, guys? That kept me from breathing and that's not healthy.

As you can tell by now, I was THERE. I saw those SMU players come bounding onto the field, hopping up and down, hugging each other, waving fists in the air because the scoreboard read 0:00 --  SMU 42   RICE 40.  I thought that Justin must have fumbled the ball after that gut-wrenching run toward the goal line. Naturally, I couldn't argue, (in fact for once I was speechless) since I was sitting on the 3rd row, 10 yard line 90 yards away and couldn't see a thing.

All I could think of was why had they called a running play from the 20 yard line, where we had just been backed up because of a holding penalty, and let the clock run out? If they had had him running toward the center of the field for the best angle to the goalposts, I could have understood--sort of.  But no, he ran toward the left hashmarks and kept digging and digging for yardage. And those SMU linemen were delighted to hold him down.

I was already telling myself not to ask that question on Monday night, losing was going to painful enough.  Then our players began to edge out on the field, the officials gathered in a huddle, and SMU stopped celebrating and began to walk back to their sideline.

Believe me, no one on our end of the field had a clue. Suddenly, there was a big fat   0:01  on the scoreboard, and I hollered, "There's number 46 on the field, it's Clark -- and James is waiting for a snap!" That's when I began to pray. The ball split the uprights and the rest is history. It was SMU's victory there for a second and now it was ours.

Last week I said that it wasn't a miracle, but this week, fellow Owls, I'm saying it was a miracle. Last week I got scolded for putting an "s" on the end of Clement's name; maybe I just forgot the apostrophe, or maybe I was thinking there must have been two Clements on the field to score 4 touchdowns in that fourth quarter. Whatever! Chase did it again. With a little help from 21 of his best friends.

Two defensive touchdowns, courtesy of heads-up play by Sendejo and King! Two more by Clement and two more by Dillard. In fact, I  don't know how Jarrett caught that jump ball in the endzone because the defender was all over him, close enough to have pleased the judges on Dancing With The Stars. He did have his arms up but he was looking Jarrett in the eyes, no way was he looking at the football. That play was right in front of me and I was already hollering, "interference, interference!," but somehow our All America wide receiver not only caught the ball, but he held onto it.

My new friend, Jeannett, who had the misfortune of sitting in front of me during the game, had to put up with non-stop "comments" on every play. Down but not out, we arrived at the end of the third quarter, score 42-27. I kept telling her "all we need is two touchdowns and a field goal. The Fourth Quarter is ours."

And it was.

A work of art, with pure heart

I was already adding those two sevens to our score

Maybe, just maybe, it was going to be our day

HOUSTON (Oct. 14) -- Great day in the morning--or should I say afternoon. What a game. We didn't win, but that can't take away from the heroics of our Owls for 45 minutes. We sapped every ounce of strength out of every player on the team (and every blue and gray fan in the stands.)

My red-clad Cougar sister sitting beside me at the game didn't say a word after the first quarter, until the end of the fourth when we let them out of the cage. If you know my sister you would know what an accomplishment that was.

I was so proud of the whole team effort. I could hardly keep up with who caught the pass, who ran the ball, who made the tackle, who intercepted the ball, who made the touchdown. I had to wear my reading glasses the whole game trying to connect numbers with names so I would know who did what. I think by the end of the game, Coach Bailiff had cleared the bench.

 All of the third down conversions for first downs must have been a record for us and beautiful they were. But I found myself wishing the coaches would quit sacrificing Hill into a brick wall on every first down. It was hard to watch.

Knox, Dillard, Wardlow, Casey, Henderson, and Hill--six different players made six different touchdowns, if my glasses hadn't fogged up. That in itself must be a record of some sort, at least it should be. Points came from everywhere all originating with Clement and ending with Fangmeier and Juist.

I was holding my breath and crossing my fingers--maybe, just maybe, it was going to be our day. Houston had had 5 turnovers (thanks to our heads-up defense) and we had converted 4 of them into scores. I had grown so used to the offense moving the ball, not just down the field, but into the endzone for 6, that I was unprepared for the turnaround in the fourth quarter.

441 yards looked pretty good to me until I read that Avery had made 427 yards all by himself. It felt like a thousand. That guy didn't have any handles. And at 4.2, he was the second fastest man on the team, enter Alridge, 4 TD's and slippery as an eel. The Cougars may not get any A's in the classroom, but they surely have got some A's on the field. Drat it!

I could tell that the defense was tired, with few healthy bodies to spell them. It just didn't seem fair that Houston was still jumping around like toads. We had had so few miscues that when they came, it surprised me. Still I believed that we would score again. Of course, that was my heart talking as usual.

And by now, my sister was talking again, and that ticked me off. I was hot and tired and I wanted to stuff my program in her mouth. However, she's a likable kid, and her smugness would be long gone come baseball season. So I forgave her and let her ride home with me. But next year,  she's going to have to buy her own ticket, and you can bet your bottom dollar, it will be on the Cougar's side of the field.

I love that word 'stun'

HOUSTON (Oct. 5) -- The sweetest sight I've seen in a long time was Coach Bailiff walking out on the football field after the game was over soaked with Gatorade. ESPN2 didn't show  the sideline celebration nor the happy faces of our Rice players after the game, but I could imagine them--smiles spread from ear to ear.
 
I'm glad that I didn't know Southern Mississippi was a three touchdown favorite. However, it would have made that Gatorade even sweeter. All I saw was Rice Owls playing heads-up football, defense flying all over the field, and offense making every yard count. Those first three quarters were all team effort, and I've never been more proud.

Clement to Dillard for two touchdowns was like old times. It should have been four but the ball was in the coffin corner both times and Dillard couldn't get his foot down in bounds. But he caught both of the balls, and it made for some breath-taking moments. As for the flying defense, the first interception was unexpected, but after that I found myself yelling at the TV, "do it again, do it again," and they did.

I haven't seen a player in the NCAA play offense and defense in a long time. Not since those golden days of my youth when most players were 60 minute men. I guess my friend, Weldon Humble, stands out the most in my memory because we called him "The 60 Minute Man." I believe someone wrote a song by that name about our All-American guard, but maybe not. Wrong generation.

However, it was hard to overlook James Casey. Jorje Vargas said today on the radio that the team calls him, "Thor." Thunder is right on. I couldn't keep up with #12 because he was everywhere. If Southern Miss looked for him at running back, he was out there running for a pass. If they looked for him as an end, he was throwing the ball. If they blinked when they saw him on defense, it was probably too late to avoid a pancake. And did I mention that he was also the holder for our field goals?

After having watched the Golden Eagles' coach fume for three quarters, it's no wonder that their offense perked up in the fourth. I certainly wouldn't want to face him after seven turnovers and I don't know how many passes went right through their receivers' hands. The last 12 minutes of the game were excruciatingly painful. However, those last 23 seconds of "home cooking" were unbelievable. Their timekeeper would not start the clock. Rice had the ball. When the referees finally gave up on the Southern Mississippi's clock keeper, they called the game.

When we win, I can hardly wait to run out in the morning and get the paper. I love that word "stun." I just danced around the kitchen, reading the headlines, "Rice stuns error-prone Southern Miss." We took advantage of every one of them--and to our credit the defense caused most of the turnovers, even our all-out blitzes worked..

The fact that we were playing on national television was just icing on the cake. Last but not least was the fact that we beat them at "The Rock."  I don't think their touted 78% wins at home, (and I know why with a timekeeper like that,) will be that high when they tally Rice's victory into their next headlines.

How sweet it was!


Oh, well, Notre Dame is 0-4, too

HOUSTON (Sept. 23) -- Is there a mercy rule in football? Much to my surprise, and yours, our Rice-UT game had no fourth quarter on Fox Sports News. No goodbyes to this great battle between old SWC rivals, no"sorry, we don't want to see you anymore," so after 10 minutres of commercials, voila! the Washington-UCLA game appeared on the screen. Cruel. And just when Rice was on a roll.

I'll bet the Longhorns were rabid at getting their big orange train derailed before their adoring fans got to relish Rice's last drop of blood. Perhaps, the game went on in Austin, but I doubt it. TV rules the world of sports, and you are either in or out of favor with the networks. Perhaps, UT had already had its mother lode of publicity with its Dirty Six. Didn't you just love Mac's compassion when he said, "We are family, and I am busy taking care of my other 140 boys." Yipes, does that mean that UT football has 65 walkons?

I won't be able to look at the stats tomorrow because I am leaving for New England and the Fall Color Show. I hope there aren't too many orange leaves, I have had all the orange I can digest in one year. But according to my stats here in the old easy chair, Texas didn't punt but twice. Juist touched the ball almost as many times as Clement.

I do believe that the Longhorns have stolen the track team and put them in their backfield. Zounds, they were fast. Our defenders never got within five yards of the   receivers, lots of buffer space in between them unfortunately. We did get a couple of sacks which were beautiful to see, I know I'm greedy but I wanted to see some more.

Coach Bailiff cleared the bench, using freshmen and red-shirt freshmen because he had to, I think we started the game with seven starters out with injuries, five second team guys out, and the young kids were thrown to the lions and survived. Some of them were pretty amazing. Seeing (or not seeing) Jarrett in the game in the second half made me ill. I kept yelling "don't hurt him" but I guess UT couldn't hear me.

There are probably some stats in the paper this morning that will give us hope for our conference games coming up. Surely after these last four games, we have more experience fighting adversity than any other team. Oh well, Notre Dame is 0-4 too, if that is any consolation

Josh Larocca came out to practice Thursday and gave the team a pep talk. He hasn't changed a bit in 15 years, same great smile. I was in Rice Stadium when Josh, the quarterback for the grand old blue and gray, beat Texas 19-14 on a rainy but beautiful day, indeed..Naturally, the students swarmed on the field and tussled, pulled, jumped on, swung from the south goal post until it came down and they carried it triumphantly around the field. The administration wasn't too happy because it would be expensive to replace it, but Coach Hatfield said he would gladly pay for it.

I found myself singing that old familiar song,"My bags are packed, I'm ready to go. I'm standing here outside your door, I hate to wake you up to say goodbye," but Boston calls and I am out of here. By the way, when the game was over, there wasn't a smile in my house, except for my 5 month old great grandson, Tennyson, who was asleep.

It didn't look any better on TV replay

HOUSTON (Sept. 17) -- I can't tell you why I went home, as whipped and disappointed as I was, and found myself in a  philosophical "Oh well" mood. The last thing I wanted to do was to see that ball game again, but I had taped it and it kept calling to me like a siren on the rocks. I was doomed. I am a masochist. All the watching did was to reconfirm my live view of all those bullet passes on target to wide open receivers.

Tech made three mistakes in the early minutes, Harrell had time to tap dance around in the backfield like Fred Astaire, Crabtree had three of our best defenders all over him and he still caught the ball. They made their first touchdown in less than three minutes. If that didn't shake our guys up, it sure shook me.

In spite of all out blitzing, we never got a sack. And in spite of our pass defenders shooting out in all directions like a star burst, we couldn't cover all their receivers because it seemed as if they sent out everyone but the four down linemen. And still we couldn't get to Harrell. Of course, they held on every play; #69 finally got caught twice, but it didn't stop him or his buddies. Prejudice, maybe, but remember I saw it twice.

When Chase got sacked twice in the first series, my heart sunk. He was going to be running for his life for 60 minutes, I thought, but he made some great scrambles and put some points on the board with his passing TD's to Dixon and Dillard.  This was heady stuff. Even though our linemen must have felt as if they were standing in a hole at the line of scrimmage looking up at those three 6''7", 374lbs, 353 lbs. and 320 pounders. The two 6'6"ers were only 335 and 329. Heavenly days, what do they feed those guys out there on the open range. I was hoping that that would make them slow, but it was not to be.

I liked the second quarter. At least we scored, only trouble was that Tech kept on scoring too, seemingly at will. We made a lot of first downs, only one less than Tech, and that gives me hope. Our receivers had a tough time getting to Chase's passes, but they made some great catches in the middle of a swarm of defenders. Sort of reminded me of running in a can of worms, they just crawled all over our guys. I don't think we ever shook them off.

At half time, I went to the pantry, got a few crackers, put some peanut butter on them, got a glass of milk, and settled down for the second half. Well, you all saw the second half, it didn't look any better on TV. Chase got sacked three or four more times, but by golly, he hung in there and showed what he was made of.

By the end of the third quarter, I got up, got the box of crackers and the jar of peanut butter and sat back down. As the game drew to a merciful close, I discovered that I was just eating the peanut butter off the knife. It was that kind of a game, friends, I just hope that the Longhorns don't look like Bevo.

I can't go to the game in Austin next Saturday, and I don't think that the Rice-UT game is going to be televised. My only consolation is that I will have my hands full of pen and yellow pad writing down every play, and I won't be able to drown my sorrows in a jar of peanut butter. But then again, if we beat those Teasippers, I just may celebrate with a PB and J.

The cruelty of the words 'If only...'

HOUSTON (Sept. 10) -- "If Only" keeps banging around in my head like marbles in a cigar box.

If only we had made those interceptions that were there for the taking. If only we had hung on to those dropped passes. If only we had made it through those holes in the line a second earlier. If only that penalty hadn't stopped our momentum. If only our special teams hadn't looked like Swiss cheese on Baylor's returns--surely the last man to catch the runner shouldn't be the kicker.

If only we hadn't muffed the gift from Baylor on our one. If only Casey the Tank had been given the ball on the goal line, wed have had two more TD's. If only we had been a little quicker and rattled their QB with some of our blitzes. If only a smart quick snap could have caught Baylor flatfooted. If only the shotgun formation didn't telegraph a pass and the two running backs lined up with Chase didn't telegraph a run. If only we didn't look so confused in all too many would-be good plays. If only everything our coaches and our players had worked on so hard in practice had worked--we'd have given them a royal fight. We'd have won that game.

I reread all my notes on the Rice-Baylor game, play by play, player by player, every yard recorded as faithfully as I could, listening to the radio broadcast. We just missed too many golden opportunities.

There are too many good players, too much talent, too much heart, too much desire in our coaches and in our boys not to get better every week. It will happen. I'm not sure my red Hot Tamales are firing them up as much as I had hoped, but by golly, they can't deny that I care. We need some two-legged fire on the field, guys,  and I can't buy that at Sam's.

I can't make all the road games anymore, my heart goes with you, but the old bod isn't what is was 50 years ago. So my notes have to be my eyes; and although they covered six yellow legal pages, it's a poor substitute for seeing it myself. I'll be in the stands Saturday, watching every play, no pencil, no paper, just two hands clapping, and from time to time pointing to Heaven in prayer.

The dictionary says that "If Only" is only an expression, an assumption, a function word expressing a wish, but that's the best I can do tonight. Hopefully, I won't have to use it again.

Hope it was all the rain's fault

HOUSTON (Sept. 3) -- More than rain dampened my spirits Saturday night. The only excitement was the bolts of lightning that put on an unwelcome show in our beautifully refurbished Rice Stadium.  New coaches, new uniforms, new plays, new expectations melted away in the interminably long minutes of a painfully interminable game.

The two timeouts called by the DEFENSE within the first three minutes of the game were not a good sign; coaches running out on the field frantically talking to the players as if they had forgotten to get off the bus. That was the first time I was shaken out of my euphoria. However, that shook the defense into a pretty solid performance from then on.   Nothing shook up the offense.

Ken Hatfield in all his glory never called a duller game, except for the 'you-take-it, no, you-take-it, no, you-take-it, oops' last play of the game.  I hope it was all the rain's fault, but only time will tell. I took the guys their red Hot Tamales at Friday's walk-through and they were so excited, so ready for the opening snap, I felt sure that the little fire-in-the-belly I gave them with love was going to work magic.

Believe me, there is so much talent, so much enthusiasm, so much belief in what they are capable of becoming, that I hurt for what showed up on the field. It was painful to watch. There was a disconnect in there somewhere and I don't think it was caused by lightning.

The biggest shock was that Chase looked confused, befuddled, by what? An aggressive, smothering defense? Woe is me when we play Texas. Or Tech or Baylor, for that matter. If the bumping in the backfield after each snap is a play, Coach, then do me a favor and scratch it.

Every desperation pass thrown up for Jarrett made him a sacrificial lamb to be slaughtered by a happy horde of defenders. I thought he was knocked out of bounds when he caught that touchdown pass by a rabid take-no-prisoners- Colonel-defender, but we lost the call. They turned Jarrett into a pretzel hitting him from all sides, knowing where he was going to be before he did.  I haven't given up on our dynamic duo, far from it, I am counting on them to be high and dry in the end zone next week.

Nicholls State gave us reprieves time after time with their frequent penalties, but we never took advantage of them. Pity, we had our chances. It seemed as if for every step we took forward we took two backward, and any momentum was squelched by fumbles and interceptions. On second thought, it didn't just seem that way, it was. When Luke Juist was the sole stopper left between Nicholls State and two more touchdowns--that was scary, my fellow Owls, very scary.

In the 240th minute of the game, I got up and stretched my numb legs, but on returning to our seats under the overhang, (my son Buck stuck around with his mother whom he knew would never leave a game early), we found strangers sitting in them. So we moved down to the zero yard line where I sat behind an animated fan still cheering as loudly as I. I knew who she was because I ha d heard her yelling the whole game, even 20 yards down the line, for number 27. And like most sons on the field, Marcus probably heard his mother.

We couldn't change the score,  but we never quit trying.

One bright note on a dreary day, when the game began, there were two (2) whole sections of students jammed in the student section, top to bottom--loud, excited, supporting their Owls, and I couldn't have been more proud. I know it meant a lot to the team, and when the game was over and the guys went to stand in front of them for the playing of Rice's Honor, there were still enough students standing there in the rain with them to hearten the lowest of the low.

I hoped in vain for Fangmeier to kick a field goal in those waning moments, I knew he could split the uprights, but he never got the chance. I loved those last minute heroics last season, those last gasp wins, and I thoroughly expected one Saturday "morning," but this time it wasn't to be.

My hope has a few holes in it now, but there are some great guys out there wearing the blue and gray, working their hearts out to plug up those holes next week. I believe.