The staff at JFC is overwhelmed by the incredible response we’ve received from Johnnie fans around the world and throughout the United States. Thank you Johnnie fans! As a result of this ever expanding Johnnie network we’ve received contributions from some very talented and creative SJU alumni and friends. In this our latest guest entry, 1997 Johnnie Grad Shawn Fury unleashes his memories of Collegeville and his Johnnie gameday experience in upper Manhattan. Thanks for your essay Shawn and thanks for reminding us why we love what we do!
Gameday at Collegeville. Those three words have long conjured up memorable images: Gagliardi in his parka. The Natural Bowl. The stunning fall colors. The Rat Pack. Victories. The satisfying, if slightly overrated Johnnie Bread. For the thousands of fans who attend each St. John’s game, those are a few of the things they remember about Saturdays in Collegeville.
My gameday setting lacks such glories. Nestled in a one-bedroom apartment in upper Manhattan—10 miles from Ground Zero and 1,300 miles from Collegeville—I listen online each week. The constant noise of passing subways stands in for the sound of the cheering masses. Where I once sat on the hillside, I now rest in a $25 office chair from Target. Every couple of weeks my listening is interrupted by the apartment building’s exterminator, here to spray a poison that probably does more harm to us than the insects it’s designed to contain and kill. For more than three hours I’ll sit in my black chair, picturing what’s happening half a country away, wishing I could be there, knowing I can’t.
Since graduating from St. John’s in 1997, I’ve seen four games in person. I was in Arden Hills in 1999 when Bethel snapped its lifetime losing streak against the Johnnies. I was there in Collegeville in 2001 when St. John’s blanked Bethel in an MIAC showdown. In later years, I caught a road game in Moorhead, and a home one against Carleton. But because of newspaper work that kept me busy every Saturday, and now geographical reasons, I, like many other St. John’s fans, can only follow from afar. From Australia to Alaska and points between, Johnnie football fans do whatever it takes to follow the team.
Fortunately for those who can no longer make regular appointments in Collegeville, following the Johnnies’ annual march to the playoffs is easier than ever, though nothing like actually being at Clemens Stadium.
Before the Internet made results instantly available, far-flung fans had to rely on simply seeing a score in a newspaper under “Midwest results.” If they were lucky, maybe a playoff score scrolled across the bottom of a Division I game on CBS.
Few Division III programs in any sport enjoy media coverage like the St. John’s football team. The amount of newspaper space and airtime now devoted to the Johnnies is probably more than the rest of the small-college sports programs in Minnesota combined. The St. Cloud Times runs several stories each week, and at least two pieces from every game. The Star Tribune and Pioneer Press cover nearly every big game. And star Twin Cities columnists Patrick Reusse and Bob Sansevere are practically official biographers of John Gagliardi. Plus, there’s a good chance that a national media outlet—be it the New York Times, Sports Illustrated or ABC—will report on Gagliardi or the team at some point of every season. And don’t forget about johnniefootball.com, currently available at johnniefootball.com. All of this is a delight for St. John’s fans scattered across the country. A Carleton grad living in New York City cannot track his team like this, though he’s surely comforted by his higher-paying job and bigger apartment.
Of course, there’s also the Johnnies radio network. Though I miss Tom Linnemann’s wit, candor, and experience (and occasional misfiring microphone), longtime announcers Mark Lewandowski and Bryan Backes, along with relative newcomers Mike and Charlie Carr, are several steps ahead of most small-college broadcasting teams. They’ve been at this gig for a long time, and it shows.
Still, those of us who rely on the radio and Internet broadcasts remain at the mercy of technology. Every long-distance St. John’s fan fears seeing the dreaded word “buffering” that occasionally pops up, preventing the online broadcast from playing. In these situations, many rely on the forums at d3football.com. Posters type up sterling play-by-play offerings such as “WOW, “NOOOO,” “YIKES,” and “YES.” These tantalizing clues mean little for someone whose radio broadcast has died. Future updates let readers know how the Johnnies are faring.
In addition, anyone who questions whether advertising truly works should listen to a dozen Johnnie football games for a decade. After a hundred Johnnie radio broadcasts, I now dream about shoplifting a gallon of milk from Coborn’s grocery store, just so the fine folks at Quinlivan & Hughes can represent me in court. I think about whether I have a realistic chance of finding a loophole that would let me join an Army ROTC program. And even though I’m a lapsed Catholic, I’m fully prepared to enroll my future sons in St. John’s Preparatory School, where they will certainly experience academic rigor and spiritual growth.
This decade-long exposure to all things St. John’s does sometimes give me the feeling of living under the control of a state-run media. The Johnnie announcers call it like they see it, but they certainly see games through red-tinted glasses. I’m convinced St. John’s hasn’t committed a holding penalty in nearly 10 years, and I still can’t figure out how the officials miss the near-constant holding that the Johnnie defenders endure. I haven’t seen these atrocities with my own eyes. I don’t need to. Sometimes I tune in to the opposition’s radio broadcast, just to hear their take on the game. But the shoddy production values, shaky announcing teams, unfamiliar advertisements (come back, Quinlivan & Hughes), and occasional snide remarks about the Johnnies inevitably lead me back to the comfortable cocoon of the St. John’s radio network. When you experience life with other crews, you really gain an appreciation for the St. John’s radio gang.
My devotion to following the team from a distance occasionally lands me in trouble. At one newspaper job, my boss pulled me aside before a shift. He told me that the paper’s tech guys kept track of everyone’s online time. According to their records, I had twice as much time as anyone else the previous week.
“Can you explain that, Shawn?”
“Umm, no. That’s weird.”
Only later did I remember that I’d come into work early on a Saturday because my Internet connection wasn’t working at home. With the three-and-a-half hour game—along with the 90-minute pregame and lengthy postgame report—I’d racked up considerable more time than my colleagues had. I told that to my boss. He said he believed me. Most likely he thought I didn’t want to own up to watching porn at work on a Saturday afternoon. Who comes into work early to listen to five hours of Division III football? I’m sure plenty of St. John’s fans have done just that.
While attending St. John’s in the mid-1990s, I didn’t attend a couple of home football games. I missed a Carleton game, probably a Hamline one. It’s going to be a rout, I figured, might as well study or watch TV or play some Tecmo. From my dorm room I could hear the crowd erupt several times between 1 and 4 p.m. Sounds like Ramler threw another touchdown. Herbst must have hauled one in. Palmer obviously scored again.
I regret that I didn’t go to every game back then, that I didn’t take advantage of every chance I had to attend a St. John’s home game. I’ll certainly return. We plan on moving back to the Midwest at some point. Saturday trips on I-94 will find a place on our schedule.
For now, I’ll rely on radio broadcasts, newspapers and web sites. Maybe in the future someone will visually broadcast every Johnnies game.
St. John’s fans are fortunate to have so many avenues to follow the team from a distance. These are good ways to keep up with Johnnie football.
But they’re nothing like gameday in Collegeville.
