The Pepsi Guy:  Boston College and 11-0
By The Pepsi Guy, 12/1/99

You were at the game or you watched it on television. Nothing else can be said about it. Michael Vick was perfection and Corey Moore and Co. were devastating except for two long plays. So why don't we fast forward to what was really important.

Slowly the final seconds ticked off and the final cannon blast sounded. It was a over. The Hokies had defeated Boston College for a perfect season, their first in of the modern era. Everyone around me was on their feet and clapping their hands together. Players were smiling and jumping around. Coaches were dripping Gatorade. Students and alumni alike were pouring onto the field like the mighty Mississippi during a raging flood. The whole scene was surreal. I didn't know what to make of it. Gradually my thoughts drifted to a scene before the football season started…

As I squeezed through the narrow opening in the fence, I discreetly made my way through the darkness and into the light. I knew I wasn't supposed to be there, but something inside of me had pulled me there. I looked all around me as I stood in silence listening for signs of danger. None could be heard so I proceeded up the ramp and into the star lit shrine. After my eyes adjusted, I became submerged in the surroundings.

Behind me, as far as I could see, rose an endless supply of concrete stairs. To my left and right were wooden bleachers with wood scraps lying at my feet. And in front of me was the place where I had watched so many leave their blood, sweat, and tears, where I had witnessed disappointment and euphoria in the same breath. Where my heroes played. Where the Hokies called home.

It was a gorgeous night in early August. The sky was clear and the stars shined bright. I was there to climb the hundreds of stairs after my three mile run. (Or so I thought) I started my ascent up the stairs and after a lot of huffing and puffing I reached the top and looked down upon the field in the moonlit night and walked back down the stairs to continue my workout. After I had sufficiently convinced myself I could run no more, I descended the stairs to the spot where I had entered the sanctuary.

Out of breath and at the point of exhaustion, I laid down upon the wooden bleachers and looked into the night.

As the warm night air blew across my face, my thoughts turned to the upcoming football season. I wondered if Corey Moore, John Engelberger, and the rest of the Tech defense could live up to their outstanding 1998 season. I thought of this young gun QB named Michael Vick, who all the coaches marveled at, and wondered if he was indeed our missing piece. I sat up and looked onto the field and pondered if the '99 Hokies could possibly live up to the preseason hype that had been bestowed upon them. The answers, I did not have.

Then my thoughts quickly turned to the crowd, to the excitement that had filled Lane Stadium in the past and would fill Lane Stadium this year. I thought of the fans raising their arms in cheer, of the times when they buried their heads in their hands in defeat. I thought of the players like Loren Johnson turning to the stands and asking the crowd to turn up the volume. The chants of "Bruuuuce" I heard as a child. The millions of stairs I had climbed during the games as a Pepsi Guy.

"Boom!" A car door slammed nearby, and I quickly remembered that I wasn't supposed to be inside my favorite stadium. I slowly walked back into the tunnel, but as I did I took one last glimpse of the field, still wondering just what the 1999 season was to bring.

Back to the present. As I scoured the stands for souvenirs, I watched a gentleman dressed in Hokie apparel from head to toe, who was at least in his 70's, jump around like a school boy. I watched a four-year-old boy smile and shake his orange and maroon pom-pom. No doubt this was the first of many Hokie highlights for the youngster, but for the elderly man, this had to be a day he had been dreaming about his whole life. A day he had to wonder if he would ever see after watching Tech struggle through the years against the likes of VMI and William and Mary. A program that struggled to gain respect from the state newspapers, yet alone the national media. A team once referred to as the "Chokies" by rivals and Tech fans alike.

The pleasure and pure euphoria I was feeling at that moment was overwhelming, but I know it had to dwarf in comparison to what that gentleman was feeling. The satisfaction that comes from decade after decade, year after year, rooting for your team and telling everyone to just wait until the day the Hokies play for a national title and watch as your friends, colleagues, and family laugh in your face. Yes, that old man was loving life Friday evening and rightly so as he circled around continuing his very own Hokie Pokie.

Even though it had only been a few minutes since the game had finished it felt like hours. Coach Beamer stood on a makeshift podium and his radiance glowed like that of a proud father after his first child was born. Surrounded by players and fans chanting, "Beamer, Beamer, Beamer", he spoke into the microphone and, through the distortions of the speakers, Beamer's voice was heard. The coach praised his team, his coaches and the fans. Then in unBeamer like fashion his eyes scanned the crowd, waiting for that perfect moment and yelled out, "How many of you are coming to New Orleans?" The Terror Dome erupted and Beamer jumped off the podium and headed to the locker room.

The students were diligently working on tearing down the goal post closest to the Merryman Center as I continued searching for more mementos. A Boston College fan walked past me and I noticed he had an Eagle pom-pom. Since I had previously collected an official Clemson Tiger rag, Syracuse and Miami pom-poms this season, I figured it wouldn't hurt to ask him if he would mind parting with his Boston College memorabilia. The young man looked down for a second thinking about what to do, and then without hesitation he handed me the pom-pom and said he expected a Big East victory in the Sugar Bowl. I thanked him and then it hit me.

No, not the fact that we were in the Sugar Bowl. I realized that earlier after seeing how close the Nebraska score was and knowing Texas had lost. No, I realized that this was the greatest day in the history of Tech football for the third or fourth time this season and I was still up in the stands. What was I doing? With that, the Pepsi Guy took off faster than a Michael Vick to Andre Davis bomb and joined the melee on the field.

It was your regular potpourri of individuals. There were players, there were students, there were alumni, there were reporters. Heck I wouldn't be surprised if Waldo himself were somewhere amongst the crowd of merry goers. Queen's "We are the Champions" was booming over the speakers and the Pepsi Guy was dancing around all over Worsham field. What else was a guy supposed to do?

The next thing I know I'm running around and who do I run into, but everyone's favorite freshman, Michael Vick. I patted him on the shoulders and told him "great game", but before I could get anything else out, a mob of titanic proportions approached him and I quickly got out of the way. Pretty soon, Michael was riding on the wave of the crowd. I guess he really is head and shoulders above everyone else.

After my brief encounter with Michael, I continued walking around the field. High fiving friends and strangers and patting players on the back, thanking them for the unbelievable season. The Nebraska scores were continually being updated, but I didn't care because I firmly believed it no longer mattered. We were in the Sugar Bowl.

I spotted Browning Wynn and told him great game and then found Nate Williams and thanked him for his career at Tech. Then my wandering took me into the path of the BC players. I wasn't sure what to do. Maybe they would go "UVa" on me. I mean I'm in pretty good shape, but I'm not going to kid you, I'm by no means a match for a 6'4, 300 pounder. But I went ahead and went up to a few of them, held out my hand and congratulated them on a great game and great season and wished them the best in their bowl game. I don't know who was more surprised the players or myself, because every one of them who shook my hand looked down on me and told me thanks and wished the Hokies luck. Not only does it show the class of the players, but is shows the class of the BC coaching staff. I truly hope to see them win their bowl game. That program is definitely on its way up. But back to the Hokies.

I made my way to the lone standing goal post. I wanted to climb on top of it, but the cops were still guarding it like the last doughnut in a Krispy Kreme box. (Relax it's just a joke for all the police out there reading this) So I walked back towards more players. I walked past Jake Houseright and Chad Beasley and again thanked both of them. It was then announced that Nebraska had lost to Colorado and a huge roar went up among those on the field. The Sugar Bowl was indeed secured for us. I saw another Tech player and slowly walked towards him and noticed it was Cullen Hawkins and he was being interviewed by Mike Burnop for the Point After. After the interview was completed, I shook Cullen's hand and congratulated him and did the same with Mike as well. I felt like a politician running for office.

Then another announcement came across the speakers, "We apologize ladies and gentlemen, the score we stated earlier was incorrect, Nebraska has actually defeated Colorado in overtime. Again we apologize." A small groan could be heard by the Tech faithful, but this wasn't a day to celebrate Colorado, this was a day to celebrate our Hokies.

At this time I noticed the students had finally broken through and a mad dash was on to take down the second goal post. I ran over there, but the crowd was too large to catch a ride on the post. So I stayed and watched the others do the dirty work. In very little time, the post was on the ground. So much for those indestructible goal posts. Maybe UVa students would like to take some notes.

Then, along with many others, I bent down and worked on getting a piece of turf off the field. I'm glad no more games are to be played on the Worsham field this season because there is no way the field is still playable. It resembled more of a dug up potato patch than a prime time playing surface.

I continued on my journey and this time made my way back to the "reception line" for the players as they made their way, one by one, to the Merryman Center. Andre Kendrick went by and everyone patted him on the back and congratulated him. Anthony Midget walked by and he received a handful of congratulations as well. This continued for player after player until the player whom the Pepsi Guy himself respects the most finally made his way through the praise gauntlet.

Corey Moore slowly made his way down the field to the soft chants of "Corey, Corey, Corey." Little kids looked up at their fathers and shouted, "Here he comes, here he comes!" in anticipation. Then he came by the Pepsi Guy and with that I stuck out my hand, looked Mr. Moore in the eyes, and told him I thought he was one hell of a football player, the best I've ever seen. I wish I could have said more, but that was all he had time for. Besides what else could one say to a hero and champion?

After my meeting with greatness, I walked past the Boston College sideline and picked up a wide receivers' towel. Ring up another piece of history for the Pepsi Guy. I was just about ready to leave the Worsham field, when I spotted television crews, side by side, conducting interviews with players. I quickly joined the crowd around Keith Short's media session and proceeded to do as everyone else did: raise my index finger and yell, "Sugar Bowl, Sugar Bowl!"

Us twenty or so fans were actually being too loud and the interviewer asked nicely if we could tone it down a bit. We acknowledged his request as each one of us took turns trying to get our hat or fingers in the view of the camera. After the interview was complete, we all yelled for Keith and I yelled to him I hope he enjoys his second trip to the French Quarter more than his first. He just smiled.

With that, I walked out through the gates of the Lane Stadium, perhaps as my last time as the Pepsi Guy. But I had one thing left to do.

The wind hit my face in the chilly November night. The stadium that was packed full of spectators, players and media was now empty again except for us few souls still trying to savor every last drop of the moment.

I had returned to those very bleaches that I visited that brilliant August night. I looked down upon the pillaged field and remembered, once again, my thoughts of that night. I slowly shook my head and I grinned from ear to ear. This was everything I had dreamed of. Just as the other thousands and thousands of Hokie fans could attest. It might have taken four months, but I had my answers.

To Hokie fans everywhere I leave you with this: enjoy this season to the fullest, because you never know when there will be another -- just ask the old man. Travel to New Orleans in mass, but go there to celebrate and realize you have been part of something truly magical regardless of the outcome…

If only the Pepsi Guy could sell drinks in the Superdome, but hopefully, I'll be there along with my 50,000 of my closest friends come January fourth.

With that take care, and enjoy the Holidays.  Farewell.

 -- The Pepsi Guy

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