Perhaps no other institution in the state of Minnesota has engendered a greater network of faithful alumni than St. John’s University. The staff at JFC is humbled by the enthusiastic and impassioned response we’ve received from folks in disparate places as Atlanta, South Bend, Cincinnati, Colorado, Manhatten, Naples and now Melbourne, Australia. As we enjoy our gameday watching the rest of DIII sweat through another Saturday we’ll sit back, enjoy the results and begin our day reading the very unique Johnnie Gameday from Melbourne by ‘93 Grad Jeff Olson. Thanks for your contribution “OzJohnnie” and we hope you can make it back soon for Gameday in Collegeville!
The stars are twinkling overhead as I rub my weary eyes in the pre-dawn hours and try to wake at 3:50am on a Sunday morning. I prepare a cut of Vegemite toast while booting the laptop and praying for a good, uninterrupted broadcast stream. Taking a seat at the kitchen table, I am overjoyed to hear the raucous cheers of the Johnnie faithful as the game begins. As halftime approaches and the first rays of light break through the gum trees I hear Old Man Kookaburra laughing to greet the dawn and to rain humiliations onto another Johnnie victim. Welcome to Gameday from Melbourne, Australia.
Melbourne is a great town; a perfect place to raise a family. It is king of sport in Australia with Aussie Rules, the Australian Open tennis, a Formula 1 Grand Prix, and the greatest cricket pitch in the world, the 100,000 seat Melbourne Cricket Ground. The food in Melbourne is diverse and delicious. It’s a very cosmopolitan city (with more Greeks, for example, than any other city in the world, except Athens) and that is reflected in the quality of victuals and the heavenly coffee. But for all the greatness of Melbourne and Australia, there is one very important thing lacking. There is no Cardinal and Blue.
What do I miss most about Old St John’s? Autumn leaves and Clemens Stadium. And bagging the Tommies. And I miss that all the more because the Tommies no longer care. Like the most repugnant guy in the bar, who is happy to leave with anyone, the Tommies no longer seem to respect themselves. Trashing a Tommie’s self respect now-a-days is like taking candy from a baby; too easy to take pride in. I was first confronted with the waning of the Johnnie/Tommie rivalry on a road trip to their turf and from what I remember the Johnnie supporters outnumbered the Tommies. And not only that, but more Tommies seemed to go to a game at Clemens the following year. A sickness was evident, even back then.
But my fondest memory of St John’s football is a whole other kettle of fish, and a kettle that needs a little back story. Turning on the way back machine… My most depressing day was a cloudy Saturday afternoon in December ’93, the season after my graduation. It is a day that I’m sure many here share in infamy with me. I remember huddling around a radio with some friends in eager anticipation of a match-up with Mount Union College (who are they?). The Greatest Offense That Ever Lived™ would clean them up like Lemon Fresh Joy on a fry pan; just as we had seen happen many a time that year from the grassy hill during the regular season. La Crosse, reigning champions and a recognised powerhouse, had been beaten like a red-headed step child the week before. Our confidence was riding high. Instead we listened as one Johnnie turnover after another, along with a very strong MUC performance (when did these guys get good anyway?), ended the season. The clouds darkened with my mood as that was my last Johnnie game forever as far as I knew. I moved to Australia three weeks later.
Fast forward seven years to a sunny Sunday morning… Awakened by newborn number one’s early morning cries, I decided to surf the Net a bit and see how the Johnnies did that year and what do I find? Streaming audio of SJU vs. MUC, tied at 7 with about 10 minutes to play in the fourth quarter! I race into the bedroom and wake the lovely Australian missus and scream, “The Johnnies are on! The Johnnies are on!” She fails to share my enthusiasm. I, undaunted, block out all distractions. The plaintive wails of a wet child go ignored. The authoritative commands to stop ignoring the plaintive wails are readily dismissed. And I listen, rapt, as the Johnnies stick it to the Raiders and lose on last second field goal. We almost got the bastards and now with the power of the Internets I knew I would be there when we finally did (which I was). And that moment, amid a heartbreaking defeat, is my happiest Johnnie memory. It is the day I returned to the fold.
So this weekend, as the crowd cheers and a chorus of ‘Tommies Suck!’ speeds to my ears over the Internets, I’ll be reminded of the carefree days when my biggest worry was if we had bought enough beer to last the post-game celebration (and did we need to ration the halftime top-up?). As I stretch my legs on the deck during the post-game wrap-up early on Sunday morning, I’ll breathe deep the dry and slightly dusty Melbourne air and wistfully remember pine needles and grassy hillsides. And as my fair Australian bride awakes to see me fist-pumping another Johnnie victory she’ll again comment that she doesn’t understand what’s so special about Johnnie Football. And I’ll reply like I always do, “It reflects the best in us and what we should be. And I’m proud to have been a part of SJU. You gonna make pancakes today?”
Regards,
Jeff
