Charles Apple

As we announced last month, The Virginian-Pilot is downsizing its graphics operation.

Ken Wright — wearing the white hat, below — retired 10 days ago. Miranda Mulligan — at right, below — will join the Pilot’s multimedia team Thursday.

The remainder of the department — John Earle (second from left) and Bob Voros (second from right) and I (left)– will be folded under the wing of the design team.

Because that leaves only two folks for me to supervise, I’ve been asked to step down as a manager and become a staff artist. Today is my last day as a manager at the Pilot and the end of my nearly nine-year career as a graphics editor.

As I wrote last month, I’m not real pleased about this. But I understand the business decision behind it. And I’ve worked hard to make the transition as comfortable as possible for my staff and the rest of our newsroom.

Since I’ll no longer be in a leadership role, I feel a little odd maintaining this blog. I’ve polled a number of folks who urged me not to end my work here at VizEds, the Society for News Design and the other forums in which I’ve taught or participated. I’ll keep it going a little longer for now.

In the meantime, please accept my thanks for reading and for the supportive e-mail I’ve received from a number of you.

And please take a moment today to think about my staff. They’ve provided the readers of the Pilot with a lot of really good visual journalism over the years and they’ve made me look awfully smart. I’m going to miss this bunch.

Here’s wishing the happiest New Year to Bob, John, Miranda and Ken. And best holiday wishes to you all.

This morning, on my way to work, I blew a tire. Right rear. There was a huge rupture in the side. I have no idea what caused it.

And those were new tires, too. Had them put on this summer.

All this happened on Mount Pleasant Road in Chesapeake, near Fentress airfield, where the Navy pilots practice their touch-and-go landings.

It’s also not far from where a tree fell on Sharon nearly three years ago. But that’s another story.

AAA came to tow me to a service center, where I had them put a new tire onto my bright cherry-red PT Cruiser. Sharon hauled herself out of bed to take me to work in her van.

It was a real mess on a day in which I didn’t have time for extra messes.

So tonight, Sharon picked me up at the Pilot and took me to the AAA service center, where we retrieved my car. We joked about who was going to follow who. Should I follow Sharon, in case a tree falls on her? Or should she follow me, in case I have another blowout?

She followed me. So naturally, I hit a deer.

It was a little fawn. It came out of nowhere. Seriously, I didn’t see her walk across the road or jump into my path or anything. Instantly, she was there and I was there and I smacked into her. She jumped just as I hit her, so she was pinned to the front of my PT Cruiser for just a moment and then she flipped over the top of the car and to the left.

Sharon saw me slam on brakes and wondered what the hell I was doing. And then she saw the deer bounce across the road and come to rest in someone’s front yard.

This happened on North Landing Road in Virginia Beach — which is the same road on which I had my blowout this morning. The road changes names at the old turntable drawbridge across the Albemarle & Chesapeake Canal — the Intracoastal Waterway — which is the line between Chesapeake and Virginia Beach. The spot where I hit the deer is maybe two miles from where I blew my tire.

Instantly, steam was everywhere. I realized I had lost my radiator. Also, I discovered I could barely steer my car. Meaning I had lost my power steering. God only knows what else is broken under the hood. I’m dreading finding out.

I pulled over and Sharon pulled up behind me to protect me from the idiots speeding past us. The man who owns the house nearby came out to suggest I use his driveway. I managed to tuck in the Cruiser, but just barely. My poor car was dying fast.

Sharon pulled up behind me, set her emergency blinkers and called the insurance folks. State Farm suggested we call the police. D’oh! Good idea. Meanwhile, I called AAA for the second time today — this time for a tow to my Chrysler dealer.

My Cruiser still has its lights on. Sharon’s van
is behind, pointing from left to right. Her right-
side door is open; you can see the seats and
headrests of the front two seats. Just to the
upper right of those headrests is a pale
orange dot. That’s Sharon’s head; she’s
leaning against the van.
—

It took the Virginia Beach police officer forever to get there. First, the guy had to graduate the academy, we guessed. The officer appeared to be about 16 years old.

He took a look at the front of my car, laughed that it would easily be more than $1,000 in damage and cheerfully filled out a report for us.

As he took notes, Sharon, the tow truck driver and I eavesdropped on the cop’s walkie-talkie. Apparently, Fridays are very interesting nights here in Virginia Beach. Let’s just say I heard a lot of things I never read about in our metro section. As each call came in, I could feel my property values sinking lower and lower.

Back to my PT Cruiser, though: My grille is busted, my hood is crumpled and there are deer guts and blood all over the front of the car. There is fur embedded in the grille.

I guess I’ll finally have to wash it.

Like I said, I lost the radiator and the steering. We’ll find out tomorrow what else is broken, I guess. The guy who lived there said I was lucky the airbags didn’t go off.

At one point, I walked back the 100 yards or so to find out what happened to the deer. There wasn’t much left of her. It looked like a small pile of meat with four hooves poking out and part of a head lying on top.

Take that, Bambi. And your momma, too.

Finally, officer Doogie Howser finished writing his report and cleared the AAA tow guy to load up my car. He blocked traffic while the tow truck driver hauled my car onto the back of his truck.

My stricken PT Cruiser is pulled onto the bed
of a large tow truck. The bright lights on the
right are the headlights of cars waiting while
we had the road blocked.
—
While the tow truck driver secured my car, the cop completely shut down North Landing Road. Traffic backed up quickly.

Once they were done, the driver helped the cop direct traffic to unclog the area. At one point, though, one old man was too busy checking out the damage to my car and he nearly ran over the tow truck driver. Literally bumped him. That could have turned out really nasty.

Both he and the cop laughed it off, though. They acted as if they knew what they were doing. Just in case, though, Sharon and I got the hell out of there before an F-18 crashed on us or something.

I mean, the way my luck is going lately…

—

EDIT

We drove by the dealership Saturday to check out the damage in broad daylight.

It didn’t look so bad at first…

In fact, it looked as if I could just hop in and drive it away.

Upon closer inspection, though, you could tell something is amiss. For starters, the hood is bent and not fully latched.

It took some effort to pry open the hood. The engine itself looked OK, but…

…the radiator and everything attached to it is wrecked and will have to be replaced.

Luckily it rained Friday night, so most of the grisly stuff washed away. My Cruiser still clutched a few souvenirs, however.

The dealer won’t even look at it until Wednesday. I rented a Celica to get me by.

In the end, I’m left with one question: If I’m going to run over something, why couldn’t it have been Sharon’s dog?

—

EDIT

The repair estimate on New Year’s Eve: $4,329.17. That’s more than a quarter of the original sale price of the car!

What were you doing 29 years ago, this Saturday night?

I can tell you what I was doing. I was watching the Gator Bowl from a seat perched fairly high in the corner of an end zone in Jacksonville, Fla.

Why is this worth mentioning? Because, as luck would have it, that evening produced one of the more obscure trivia questions in NCAA football history. Quick: What was the name of the player Woody Hayes slugged to get himself fired as coach of Ohio State?

—

As a kid growing up in upstate South Carolina, I heard all about the football glory years of our beloved Clemson Tigers. But those years were long gone. I suffered through season after dismal season in the late ’60s and 1970s. The 1975 season in which the Tigers went 2-9 stands out in my mind: The two wins were by a combined total of five points.

The next year, Clemson was only slightly better — 3-6-2 — but finished with a big 28-9 upset of South Carolina at Death Valley. I was lucky enough to sit on the famous hill at that game, although “sit” isn’t quite the word to describe it. It was more like standing and jumping up and down and shrieking like a nut. The crowd that day set a new attendance record for Memorial Stadium, at the time: 54,486.

The victory over the Gamecocks wasn’t enough to save coach Red Parker’s job, though. Parker was let go and one of his assistants, Charley Pell, was named coach for the 1977 season.

And what a season it was. After dropping the season opener to Maryland, the Tigers went on to win seven straight games. Clemson finished the season with an 8-2-1 record, a No. 19 ranking and an invitation to play its first bowl game in my lifetime.

Pitt dismantled the Tigers 34-3 in the Gator Bowl, but that was beside the point. We were just delighted Clemson didn’t suck any more.

Pell’s second Tiger team finished 10-1 and earned Clemson its first ACC title since 1967. Ranked No. 6, Clemson was invited back to Jacksonville, this time to face Woody Hayes‘ Ohio State Buckeyes.

Clemson Coach Charley Pell and
his young assistant, Danny Ford.
—

All was not well in Tigertown, though. Rumors abounded that Pell was talking with the University of Florida about a head coaching position there.

At first, Pell denied the rumors but eventually the news broke. In early December, he announced he was leaving, but he said he’d stay on to see the Tigers through the Gator Bowl. But before he returned to Clemson to continue preparations for the game, he was going to spend a week in Gainesville.

Clemson fans were having none of it. They — we — wanted Pell’s full attention until after the game, and if we couldn’t have it… well, Pell could go ahead and clear the hell out right now.

And so he did. Which left assistant coach Danny Ford with the task of coaching the Tigers in their second consecutive trip to the Gator Bowl.

As a bit of a gag, I wrote a little song about the whole affair, sung to the tune of “Frosty the Snowman.” My mom passed it along to the editor of the weekly newspaper in town, The McCormick Messenger, which regularly published articles I wrote about our school sports teams.
Much to my surprise, the Messenger printed the song. To this day, folks in my home town of McCormick, S.C., ask me to explain how some of the syllables I wrote fit into the tune.

Which they don’t. Not really. But hey, I was an 11th grader. So cut me some slack, willya?

As the holidays arrived, a family friend offered up a spare ticket to the game. Our next-door neighbors offered transportation and lodging with grandparents in Jacksonville. Which is how it came to pass that my pal, Willie Connor, and I attended the 1978 Gator Bowl.

Willie Connor and myself, Dec. 29, 1978,
before the Gator Bowl in Jacksonville, Fla.
—

Our seats weren’t great — stuck high in the corner of the end zone on a chilly but very, very humid evening — but hey, it was the Gator Bowl and my Tigers were playing. I was 16 years old and in hog heaven.

There was this interesting guy sitting behind us with two girls — one on each side. As I recall, he had earned a degree from Clemson but was then attending Ohio State as a grad student.

He was relatively harmless type of smart ass: He spent the entire night sitting on the fence, attempting to show his intelligence by supporting both teams. I couldn’t get over the fact that he had two — two! — dates for the game. So I showed him the respect that I figured he deserved.

However, each time the Ohio State quarterback — a young fella by the name of Art Schlichter — did something extraordinary, the guy would bolt out of his seat, knee me in the back and yell at the top of his lungs: “That’s our freshman!”

That got old fast.

Schlichter was a freshman. And he was a damn good quarterback, too. On the night, Schlichter was 16-for-20 for 205 yards. Plus, he picked up another 70 yards on the hoof.

Clemson dominated the game early and led 17-9 by the end of the third quarter, but danged if Schlichter didn’t bring the Buckeyes back. He scored his second rushing touchdown of the night with 8:11 left in the game.

And the whole time, the loudmouth with two chicks kept yelling: “That’s our freshman! That’s our freshman!”

With very little time left in the game, Clemson was forced to give up possession. Schlichter mounted yet another drive as we were hit with another lecture from this jackass on how this talented young quarterback would put a nail in Clemson’s coffin.

On the left is second-string Clemson nose guard
Charlie Bauman. On the right is Buckeye QB
Art Schlichter.
—

But, as fortune would have it, it wasn’t a nail that Schlichter delivered. It was an egg.

Schlichter delivered the brown, egg-shaped football directly into the hands of backup Tiger nose guard Charlie Bauman — who appeared as surprised as anyone. After all, how often does a nose guard get a chance to run back an interception?

Bauman rumbled out of bounds right in front of the Ohio State bench. So much for that nail. Or the coffin, either.

Everyone sitting within three or four rows of us all turned in unison, pointed our fingers at the smart ass and yelled with great relish: “That’s your freshman!”

Which is why we missed the start of the bench-clearing brawl.

It took the referees a while to clear the mess on the field. When order was restored, they marked off two consecutive unsportsmanlike conduct penalties against Ohio State, which left Clemson quarterback Steve Fuller in well enough shape to run out the clock. The final score: Clemson 17, Ohio State 15.

But what we didn’t know yet was that the score of the game had become a sidebar. The big news was the brawl. Or, rather, what had started the brawl.

None of us — even those in our party with better seats — knew what had happened until we returned to grandmother’s home that night. It was all over local TV.

What happened was that as Bauman ran out of bounds, the legendary — but infamously hotheaded Ohio State coach, Woody Hayes — took a swing at him.

The Buckeyes line up on the Clemson
24, marching in for the winning score.
I’m in the corner of the end zone, to
the right of the camera.

Freshman QB Art Schlichter takes
the snap and drops back…

…and, unwisely, throws across the
middle. That’s Bauman at far right.
Note the wide-open Buckeye receiver
at the top of the photo.

Bauman easily picks off Schlichter’s
pass and heads toward the sideline…

…where he’s dragged down
in front of the Buckeye bench.

As Bauman climbs to his feet,
OSU coach Woody Hayes grabs
Bauman by the sleeve…

…and smacks him. It looks as if Hays
wants to hit Bauman in the head but
avoids the face mask, hitting mostly
shoulder pads.

Hayes doesn’t stop there. He attempts
to flail away at Bauman, who steps
back from the legendary coach.
Other Tiger players intervene.

And, of course, no one wants
to see that. The refs step in…

…but the State boys tear
onto the field…

…And that’s when it begins to get
a little nuts. Photos from ABC Sports
coverage, via YouTube.
—

Buckeye players immediately stepped between Hayes and Bauman, so no real damage was done. In fact, the replays showed that Bauman gave Hays that same sort of “Huh?” look that Bauman had displayed when he suddenly found himself with the ball, moments before.

But the Clemson bench saw Hayes smack Bauman and Tiger players bolted across the field. Buckeye players went out to meet them. And that was all we could see from the cheap seats.Naturally, the penalty assessment suggested to us it was an OSU problem rather than a Clemson problem. So we put it out of our minds. When we saw the story on TV — and in the paper the next day — we were stunned.

Woody Hayes is restrained by his
own players after slugging Clemson’s
Charlie Bauman. These UPI photos
were offered in an eBay auction
a few years ago.
—

It turned out a small scandal was brewing among the broadcast media, in fact. Bauman’s interception and Hayes’ sparring match were caught squarely on camera when they happened but — for some reason — ABC chose not to replay the punch. The network later claimed its videotape machine as busy rewinding to show the interception and therefore didn’t capture Hayes’ fit.

Compounding this error was the failure of broadcasters Keith Jackson and Ara Parseghian to say anything about the punch. Jackson was quoted later as saying he didn’t see it and didn’t even know it had happened until much later.

.

The ABC-TV broadcast team of
Jackson and Parseghian, from
the Gator Bowl game program.
—

ABC headquarters in New York had the master tape, however. Which was fed back to the local Jacksonville ABC affiliate, stations all over South Carolina and, presumably, Ohio. Within hours, Woody Hayes had become a one-hit wonder.

The next day, Hayes was fired. It was a sad, sad end to 28 remarkable years as coach of the Ohio State Buckeyes.

And it made Charlie Bauman a household name in South Carolina. For a while, at least.

—

Speaking of trivia, there are a few other names involved with the 1978 Gator Bowl. Perhaps you’ve heard of a few of these guys:

Art “That’s Our Freshman” Schlichter played three more years at Ohio State and then played three years for the Indianapolis Colts. However, his career was cut short by an addiction to gambling.

He was booted out of the NFL and played a couple of seasons of Arena football. His addiction caused Schlichter to run up debts of more than a third of a million dollars. He spent four of the last six years of the 1990s in 17 different jails and prisons, according to The Cincinnati Inquirer.

Here’s a USA Today column about the poor guy. What a waste.

—

Ohio State linebacker Tom Cousineau was the No. 1 pick in the 1979 NFL Draft, but he elected not to sign with the Buffalo Bills and instead played Canadian football. Cousineau finally returned to the U.S. in 1982, playing four years with the Cleveland Browns and two with the San Francisco 49ers.

—

Ohio State tailback Ron Springs — reportedly the intended receiver for the pass Bauman stole — spent several years with the Dallas Cowboys and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.

—

No fewer than six players on Clemson’s 1978 team would go on to be first-round draft picks:

Jerry Butler, WR
1979 Draft: 1st round, 5th overall pick
Buffalo Bills

Butler was named AFC Rookie of the year in 1979, spent nine years in Buffalo and played in the 1980 Pro Bowl. He now works in the Cleveland Browns organization.

—

Steve Fuller, QB
1979 Draft: 1st round, 23rd overall pick
Kansas City Chiefs

Fuller played five years with the Chiefs and four with the Chicago Bears as Jim McMahon’s backup. He earned a Super Bowl ring with the Bears in 1985.

His real claim to fame, however, may be the rap video, “Super Bowl Shuffle.” Fuller wears No. 4 — the same jersey number he wore at Clemson, but you don’t need to see his number in order to spot him.

He’s the one who’s out-of-step. For the entire video.

Steve, I loved you a lot. But that was embarrassing. Just embarrassing.

—

Joe Bostic G
1979 Draft: 3rd round, 64th overall pick
St. Louis Cardinals

Bostic spent 10 seasons on the Cardinal offensive line, long before the Cards moved to Arizona. He was named to the 1979 NFC all-rookie team.

—

Dwight Clark, WR
1979 Draft: 10th round, 249th overall pick
San Francisco 49ers

Perhaps the most famous member of the 1978 Tiger Gator Bowl team, Clark won two Super Bowl rings with the 49ers as a player and helped to earn three more Super Bowl trophies as a member of the 49er front office. He went on to become general manager of the Cleveland Browns.

His biggest claim to fame, however, was one catch vs. the Dallas Cowboys in a playoff game on Jan. 10, 1982. Ask any pro football fan about “the catch” and he’ll instantly remember it. And Walter Iooss‘ iconic photo for Sports Illustrated is nearly as famous as the feat itself:

—

Jim Stuckey DT
1980 Draft: 1st round, 20th pick
San Francisco 49ers

Stuckey played seven seasons with the 49ers, earning two Super Bowl rings. Then, he played one season each with the Jets and Chargers. He now works for Nutrisystem.
—

Jeff Bostic C
1980 - Not Drafted; signed as a free-agent
Washington Redskins

Bostic anchored the famous offensive line of the Washington Redskins — “The Hawgs” — for 14 seasons, earning three Super Bowl rings. He played in the 1983 Pro Bowl.

—

Jeff Bryant DT
1982 Draft: 1st round, 6th overall pick
Seattle Seahawks

Bryant played 12 years with the Seattle Seahawks.

—

Perry Tuttle, WR
1982 Draft: 1st round, 19th overall pick
Buffalo Bills

Tuttle played three years with the Bills and Falcons, then jumped to the Canadian Football League in 1986. He was an all-CFL selection in 1987.

—

THE READERS TALK BACK

I originally posted a version of this story on my web site in the fall of 2001 — back when I had a web site and before I had even heard of a blog.

I was amazed at the comments I received from folks who stumbled across my humble little page. Like this one from Daryl K. Tabor:

It’s Keith JACKSON, not Jennings. Keith Jackson was the ABC sportscaster for the game, not Keith Jennings.

Who is Keith Jennings?

Oops! Keith Jennings was a tight end for the Clemson Tigers from 1985 to 1988 who went on to play for the Bears.

Yes, that was a screw up. I’d fire my copy desk. If I had one.

Steve McCarthy wrote:

Didn’t Charlie Bauman change his name due to the notoriety that followed?

Nope; not at all. In fact, the ultimate irony was that Bauman now lives in Ohio.

A couple of years after I first posted this story, Chris Dufresne of The Los Angeles Times wrote this 25th-anniversary story of the incident:

Bauman, the innocent Clemson bystander, wondered how a reporter had found him, living quietly these days, in Ohio of all places.

“Google search?” he asked.

Yep.

Bauman did not want to rehash the details. He said his role in the play is a historical footnote.

“That’s all it is,” Bauman said. “He made a mistake. He made other mistakes, and so have I. Everybody makes mistakes.”

Steve replied:

Thanks for the response. Now I can finally put away the urban legend of what happened to Charlie Bauman.

…I saw the game with a few friends here in Houston. We were shocked. The local ABC sports newscaster, Tim Melton (who is still here incidentally) expressed what everyone had just seen, that ABC had shamelessly tried to ignore what had just taken place.

Charlie could have and arguably should have retaliated, but Charlie was in full control of himself and did the smart thing which was nothing.

Patrick Dyer chimed in right after the Buckeyes won the National Championship in January 2003:

The OSU win in the Fiesta Bowl Friday night brought this all back to mind, especially with ABC’s Keith Jackson’s (I though that he’d retired) comment at the very end: ” … rest easy Woody”!

I’d seen the 1978 “incident” live on ABC (no VCR until 1987). To the best of my recollections the OSU sideline was to the left of the interception runback. I’d at first thought that Hayes was grabbing at Bauman to pull him back from the mob of OSU players.

They DID air some kind of a replay as there was dead silence from Jackson and Parseghian during and after it. At the time I took them to have been thunderstruck by what they saw, but, perhaps, they really couldn’t see it afterall.

Finally, I received this e-mail which — I hope you’ll agree — was definitely a keeper:

Greetings Chuck…

This afternoon while performing a search on Yahoo I came across your 1978 Gator Bowl web page… WOW, your web page brought back a lot of great memories… especially the group of talented players on our team and our great fans.

I just wanted to let you know I think you designed an exceptional page about the Gator Bowl. Thanks for being a fan of the Tigers.

Best Regards,
Charlie Bauman

No, thank you, Mr. Bauman. Not only for making my last-minute, surprise trip to Jacksonville a thrill, but also for being such a class act.

Every 16-year-old kid should be lucky enough to have a hero like Charlie Bauman.

—

See the pass, the interception and Hayes’ fit in a YouTube video — if you can stand the damn OSU fight song blaring from your speakers.

Here’s that 25th anniversary LAT story about the incident, as posted by The Cincinnati Post (may it rest in peace).

ESPN named the incident its No. 8 most infamous sports moment of the last century.

Here are some fascinating Woody Hayes factoids from ESPN. My favorite:

At times, Hayes refused pay raises because he believed they would interfere with winning; as a result, some of his assistants were paid more than he was. In 1978, his last season, Hayes’ salary was $43,000.

Blogger Mark Bolding has posted his own page the 1978 Gator Bowl.

If you ever needed a reason to not use Wikipedia, here’s one. Instead of Bauman, the wiki says (as of Thursday evening) that Woody Hays hit someone named Barry Hermann. Good grief!