A Return to Remember
What happens when a handful of alums gather to watch their alma mater in a high school playoff game? Plenty ... on and off the field
It is impossible to begin to calculate the number of games this football addict has watched on TV if not attended over the years. Let’s be conservative and put the number in the thousands. From wacky plays to head-scratching coaching decisions to what-just-happened finishes, I’ve pretty much seen it all. Then came last Friday night and a Texas state high school playoff game at McKinney’s $70 million football stadium, just north of Dallas.
Six of us, Richardson High School Class of ’75, had gathered to watch our alma mater face off against some Eagles from another flock, the boys from Allen High. This was not the first time our clan had convened, as in 2022 we attended a dozen or more RHS basketball games. This was different, however. And intriguing. Richardson was making its first postseason appearance in 32 years and coming off a first-round playoff win. Allen was Allen–a spotless 11-0 and a five-time state champion over a 10-year span, including three straight titles with Kyler Murray running the show.
Our evening started with pizza and a couple of cold ones at Dave Goscin’s memorabilia-packed abode, which, conveniently enough, was a stone’s throw from the stadium. Greg Broom and Robin Moon and Tom Weersing were there. Larry Ohlen made a surprise appearance. We had all played football in junior high and/or high school, so unsurprisingly we reminisced about that. RHS fielded some salty football teams back in the day, and that prompted discussion about memorable games and playoff runs.
But we also reflected about family and careers and life, among other things. Death, too, as Tom had lost his father just three days earlier. I don’t recall how it got there, but at some point the conversation veered to Las Vegas, prompting a comment that elicited the largest laugh in a night overflowing with laughter. After a few of us shared some of our experiences in Sin City, one among us who shall remain nameless quipped: “The last time I went to Vegas, I got married!” True story.
Also true: The guys who loaded into the second car for the short trip to the stadium inexplicably got lost. I mean, we’re talking two left turns! They missed the start of the game, although those of us in the other car might have suffered the same fate if not for Dave’s son, Paxton, who navigated the barcode on the placard outside the stadium and secured our four tickets. Whatever happened to the good ol’ days of the paper ticket stub?
We settled into seats in the upper deck on the press box side, just as the teams were running onto the field. No surprise for a one-high school town with a population pushing past 100,000, Allen’s roster, band and crowd dwarfed that of the good guys. Allen won the toss and deferred.
And then it happened.
Fielding the opening kickoff near the right hashmark at the 8-yard line, Dameon Crowe, RHS’s lightning bolt of a receiver, dashed toward the left side. Once there, he found a seam and darted directly up the field. Then, as he crossed the 50 and without breaking stride, he made as pretty a cut as a guy can make. A handful of defenders were in hot pursuit, but Crowe found another gear as he angled toward the right sideline, directly in front of the Allen bench. See ya! It’s not a stretch to say that Crowe covered 120 yards during his serpentine return. The extra point was blocked, but RHS had delivered the first body blow.
And then …
The Eagles pooched a kick along the left sideline. Allen return man Brett Holloway caught the ball at the 28 and headed across the field, almost to the other sideline. From there, he cut upfield and, like Crowe, ran untouched to the end zone. Allen made the extra point and took a 7-6 lead. The game was 28 seconds old.
Tell me when you’ve seen that happen: two kickoff returns to start a game. I bet you can’t?
In a word, things got ugly from there. RHS went three-and-out and punted. Allen scored in three plays. RHS threw an interception. Allen scored in a couple of plays. Allen rolled the dice on fourth-and-5 near the 50 and converted, then scored a few plays later. It was 28-6 after one quarter and 52-6 at halftime.
What was transpiring on the field allowed for more idle chatter, and an opportunity for the six of us to go back in time. That included recalling the names of plays we ran in junior high and high school. I-Right, Right 31! The things you remember! Someone mentioned Mark Embler, our kicker extraordinaire, who was automatic from 50 yards and in with his straight-on style. We lost Mark a few years ago to cancer, at far too young an age.
We talked about the 1974 Eagles and how that team had streaked to nine consecutive wins, only to lose to a formidable Plano team, 21-7, in the regular-season finale. In those days, only the district champion went to the playoffs, and Plano’s reward was a visit to East Texas and a meeting with Tyler John Tyler. The Wildcats proved no match for the Lions, and as the story goes, legendary Plano coach John Clark exhorted his defense to do a better job of tackling the opposing running back. One of the kids finally spoke up, saying he and his teammates couldn’t tackle him. The running back’s name? Earl Campbell. The Tyler Rose.
Just as Richardson was the oversized one-high-school town of the 1960s and Plano was the oversized one-high-school town of the 1970s, Allen has been the same for the past couple of decades. The school has an enrollment of more than 5,000 students, which explains why the band, the self-proclaimed largest in the country, numbers more than 600 strong. Richardson was in these playoffs only because each district now sends four teams to the playoffs. That’s not to detract from the fact the Eagles were in the postseason for the first time in ages and had won the week before, but let’s be honest: This game was a mismatch before it even started.
Allen flooded the field with backups in the second half, but there was no letup on either side. The last 24 minutes flew by, primarily because the game went to a running clock. (Maybe it’s a rule and it was probably for the best, but I can’t remember seeing that in a Texas high school game.) Crowe was as good and as elusive as anyone on the field. With his strong leg and having seen what transpired on the opening kickoff, Allen’s kicker proceeded to produce one touchback after another. At some point, Crowe apparently grew tired of watching the ball sail over his head, so he started bringing kicks out of the end zone. He almost broke another for a score and finished with more than 200 yards in returns.
The 59-6 final evoked memories of the run the 1967 Eagles made through the state playoffs. I didn’t miss a game that season. Neither did Greg, whose father, Charlie, was an assistant coach on that team. Coach Broom! RHS went on the road to knock off second-ranked Longview, my parents and me traveling in style on the Quarterback Club charter bus. (My sister played the flute in the marching band.) Then the Eagles thumped third-ranked Dallas Bryan Adams before 40,000 in the Cotton Bowl.
Next up was a meeting with top-ranked Abilene Cooper, back in the Cotton Bowl on a blustery December afternoon. Cooper’s high-powered offense was led by quarterback Jack Mildren, who set countless passing records while throwing primarily to Jon Harrison. One of the running backs was Randy Allen, the future coach of Highland Park fame. (At Oklahoma, Mildren turned into a wishbone quarterback and directed an offense that in 1971 averaged 472 rushing yards a game, an NCAA record that still stands. He was a 1988 inductee into the College Football Hall of Fame.)
The Cooper defense was no slouch, either, and upon winning the coin toss, the Cougars elected to take the wind. Three RHS possessions ended with three punts that went nowhere into the stiff wind. Like that it was 21-0. The halftime score was 42-6, but there was no letup on either side in the second half. Neither team scored again. Mildren passed for four touchdowns, three of them to Harrison, who would follow his buddy to Norman.
I was only 10, but all these years later, I can still recall the thunderous roar that came from across the stadium when Cooper removed its starters. I also remember my father grousing about why it had taken so long for the team from West Texas to substitute. Cooper would lose in the state title game as a prohibitive favorite, 20-19 to Austin Reagan, after getting stopped at the 1-yard line on the final snap.
The other carload left after the third quarter, but Dave, Larry and I stuck around until the bitter end. When it was over, the three of us returned to Dave’s place for more conversation. Chili Melton, a classmate and star running back, texted to say he was on his way over. I’ve always enjoyed spending time with Chili, but I had a 30-mile trek home to Kessler Park and it was getting late.
Waze routed me south on Central Expressway, through Allen and Plano and Richardson, and within a couple of miles of the house my parents built in 1964. Has it really been 60 years?
From McKinney to Dallas and beyond, so much has changed since then, and not all of it for the better. But the fond memories are enduring.
(Clockwise from top left) Moon, Broom, Weersing, Godich, Ohlen and Goscin.