The Magic of Corvallis

You don't really have to be a fan of college football to know that the Oregon State Beavers pulled off easily the biggest upset of this young football season by defeating the # 1-ranked USC Trojans at Reser Stadium in Corvallis on Thursday night (Sept. 25). Perfect strangers approached each other after the game, enraptured by the play of the seemingly-hapless Beavers, and became fast friends. Indeed, the next day I saw an acquaintance from Corvallis, whom I hadn't seen for a few months, and the victory provided us fodder for conversation for several minutes, even though neither of us is a real "fan." People might think that the reason OSU won was because of Trojan overconfidence, or because of OSU's swarming defense, or because all the breaks went OSU's way (all of which are true to an extent), but I think one of the reasons for victory lies in a most gossamer and insubstantial thing, which I will call the "magic" of Corvallis. I felt it for the first time when I visited there in 1983, and each time I visit the original magic is re-kindled. Let me tell you about that magic, and then make a comment on the game.

The Lure of Corvallis

Corvallis hosts one of the largest state universities in the smallest towns in the Western United States. All right, Pullman WA (home of Washington State Univ.) and Moscow ID (home of U of ID) are both smaller towns, but they are only about 15 miles apart, and together they make up sort of a "wheat/onion-field academic axis" of the "Inland Empire." But Corvallis is a town of about 50,000, situated on Highway 99 West about 80 miles SW of Portland, OR and about a dozen miles West of Interstate 5. Though it is about equidistant from my home in Salem and the Univ. of Oregon in Eugene, Corvallis occupies such a separate geographical and mental space that its economy, culture, gastronomy and "feel" are considerably different than either Salem or Eugene. The downtown is dominated by a 19th century courthouse, in an Italianate style which, on a dark and forbidding night, you could almost imagine to be the situs of a horror movie. Here are some pictures. The sprawling Green lawn West of 11th Street at OSU is reminiscent of Stanford's sunken lawn at the South end of Palm Drive, only that OSU's lawn has so many more interesting kinds of trees than does Stanford's (Stanford more than makes up for it by the trees in the Memorial Quad..). And the football stadium was, until the impressive and perhaps too extensive remodeling a few years ago, a most diminutive place, seating no more than 35,000. More than anything, however, when you are about to enter Reser Field, you look around, and feel that all the Douglas Firs which stand as sentinels on the hills to the West give you a sense of pristine freshness, of undiscovered treasures, of remoteness and even strangeness to those for whom Oregon isn't their home. In fact, I think it is this remoteness of feel which not only gives Corvallis, and OSU, its allure, but also contributed to the magic that got into the Trojans' "head" and made them unable to perform on Thursday night.

Yes, to the Game

I wasn't even going to watch the game because I, along with millions of other people, knew it was going to be a "blowout." Then, I made a "deal" with myself: I would only watch the game until OSU was down 21 points, then return to the rest of my work in the evening. I turned on the game mid-way through the first quarter and, to my surprise, saw that the Beavs (the endearing hypocorism used througout the area) were ahead 7-0. I smiled inwardly. Well, the adrenaline of home-field advantage, combined with USC's initial lethargy, no doubt made things "even" for a while.

But then, after watching several plays, I began to see things differently. What was happening was amazing. The OSU offensive linemen were actually not simply completing their assignments by blocking the Trojan defenders, but were moving the beefier, bulkier, more athletic and much more renowned Trojan defenders backwards. This was not the way it was supposed to happen. OSU's defense, anchored by Spicer and Matthews, was supposed to be the equivalent of a leak-proof container. No one got through. This was the defense that had humbled, even humiliated a good Ohio State team two weeks previously. But no, they were being pushed back by the unheralded guys on Oregon State's line. Then, there was the little guy (5'6'' or 5'7'' depending on the news source), the OSU running-back Jacquizz Rodgers, who seemingly got "lost" among all the tall timbers trying to find him, and managed to slither, spin, jerkily change directions and otherwise power himself for six, eight, ten yards per carry. It as almost as if I could hear the USC defenders saying to themselves,

"Who do you boys think you are?? WE, yes WE, are the Trojans, and no one can do this to us. We eat up ranked teams on National Television when we play in the Los Angeles Coliseum. There is no way that you guys here in this podunk Oregon town [where are we, anyway?] can do this to us."

So, I think the Trojan defense played stunned for the first half. Capping it off was a lucky break for the Beavers. With just seconds remaining in the half, Beaver quarterback Lyle Moevao threw up a pass into the Trojan endzone that had no chance of connecting with his receiver (Rodgers' brother was the target). It looked, in fact, that it was thrown right to the Trojan defender. But it glanced from his hands and into the hands of Rodgers, just before the latter was ready to fall out -of-bounds. Touchdown for the Beavs, when the clock was running out at the half, for a 21-0 lead.

Conclusion

Well, I could go on to describe the heroic Beaver defensive play, the way that the momentum changed quickly in the third quarter and everyone knew that the Trojans were just going to come back and blow the Beavers out, but then the gradual concern, consternation, anger and finally, panic in the Trojan sideline as they saw that these wimpy Beavers, these spoilers, these tree-surrounded guys from a town that doesn't even have an Interstate highway nearby, were going to beat the mighty Trojans. It just wasn't "fair." But it happened. I credit most of the victory to the Beavers' grit, both on offense and defense, and to the fact that the Trojans just weren't ready to play. But I leave some of the credit to the magic of the place, a magic that simply injects something into the players and fans, giving them the sense that, at least for this three hours of time, Oregonians are, in fact, invincible.

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