It's Alabama-auburn week, which means it's time for me to re-post the origin of "War Eagle."
Legend of War Eagle
College football is wrought with lengends. We're all familiar with the stories of hallowed legends from Notre Dame and Chief Osceola calling the braves to battle. We know the Gator chomp, tomahawk chop, Texas A&M's 12th man and Hook 'em horns. But no legend has been as misunderstood, lost and misconstrued as the (in)famous rallying cry that eminates from the "loveliest village on the plains." Fall Saturdays echo with the cry of "War Eagle" lofting through the air from Jordan Hare stadium, yet very few actually know how that call to rally came to be. Sure, we have all heard tall tales of Civil War heroes returing home. Stories of Indian war chiefs, or an eagle falling to his death after a valiant effort put forth by the mighty Plainsmen. These are the stories college football legends are made of. But sometimes, reality is actually a better story.
It all happened around the turn of the 20th century, but little documention was ever made of the events. A cub reporter from a now defunct east coast newspaper was dispatched to cover an emerging rivalry between the Plainsmen, or Tigers of the East Alabama Male College, now known as Auburn University, and the Bulldogs of the University of Georgia. The young reporter arrived in Columbus, Ga thinking he was at the campus of the Male College (maybe this was the first time Auburn was mistakenly thought to be in west Georgia), but was quickly given directions west to get to his intended destination. The eager reporter made it to Auburn and was anxious to get to the task of covering an exciting young running back that had made this school in the lovely village of Auburn a national name. The young man's real name has been forgotten through time, but his monicre, "Eagle," lives on in the hearts and minds of the alums of Auburn University world wide. Eagle was fast, really fast. It was said that he could "fly down the field" because of the speed he possessed. But as talented as he was, he was equally shy.
The day of the big game arrived and coach Heisman gave the locker room speech of his life. The guys were ready, with the exception of Eagle, who had not yet arrived. This was not unusual as Eagle's shyness was well known and he frequently showed up just in time for kick off as he had to muster the courage to play in front of so many people. The Bulldogs won the toss and deferred to the second half. The Plainsmen elected to receive. On their first drive, with no Eagle in the offense, the result was three downs and out. The Bulldogs took advantage of their first and second offensive opportunites by scoring. At half time, the Bulldogs led the game 14-0. The second half opened the same as the first closed, with the Bulldogs dominating both sides of the ball. Without Eagle, there was no offensive production. No hope. The home crowd was getting weary of the game. Their hero was nowhere to be seen. What could have happened to him? Then it began. There had been murmuring throughout the stadium during the first half, but it did not sound like this. First it started as a low mumble, then it picked up throughout the crowd. The stands began to shake. "What are they saying?" thought the reporter. Then it began to get clearer as it climaxed in a crescendo voices reminiscent of a Wagner symphony. The young word-smith furiously took notes, filling up sheet after sheet. He had covered losing teams before, but had never heard such exuberance from a losing team's fans.
The next morning readers across the east coast and southeastern states would read the story of how a fanbase rallied around their team in a losing effort, for being unfamiliar with the tobacco-strained drawl of the east Alabama pig famer, the young man mistook crying pleas of "Whar's Eagle!?" for "War Eagle."
Legend of War Eagle
College football is wrought with lengends. We're all familiar with the stories of hallowed legends from Notre Dame and Chief Osceola calling the braves to battle. We know the Gator chomp, tomahawk chop, Texas A&M's 12th man and Hook 'em horns. But no legend has been as misunderstood, lost and misconstrued as the (in)famous rallying cry that eminates from the "loveliest village on the plains." Fall Saturdays echo with the cry of "War Eagle" lofting through the air from Jordan Hare stadium, yet very few actually know how that call to rally came to be. Sure, we have all heard tall tales of Civil War heroes returing home. Stories of Indian war chiefs, or an eagle falling to his death after a valiant effort put forth by the mighty Plainsmen. These are the stories college football legends are made of. But sometimes, reality is actually a better story.
It all happened around the turn of the 20th century, but little documention was ever made of the events. A cub reporter from a now defunct east coast newspaper was dispatched to cover an emerging rivalry between the Plainsmen, or Tigers of the East Alabama Male College, now known as Auburn University, and the Bulldogs of the University of Georgia. The young reporter arrived in Columbus, Ga thinking he was at the campus of the Male College (maybe this was the first time Auburn was mistakenly thought to be in west Georgia), but was quickly given directions west to get to his intended destination. The eager reporter made it to Auburn and was anxious to get to the task of covering an exciting young running back that had made this school in the lovely village of Auburn a national name. The young man's real name has been forgotten through time, but his monicre, "Eagle," lives on in the hearts and minds of the alums of Auburn University world wide. Eagle was fast, really fast. It was said that he could "fly down the field" because of the speed he possessed. But as talented as he was, he was equally shy.
The day of the big game arrived and coach Heisman gave the locker room speech of his life. The guys were ready, with the exception of Eagle, who had not yet arrived. This was not unusual as Eagle's shyness was well known and he frequently showed up just in time for kick off as he had to muster the courage to play in front of so many people. The Bulldogs won the toss and deferred to the second half. The Plainsmen elected to receive. On their first drive, with no Eagle in the offense, the result was three downs and out. The Bulldogs took advantage of their first and second offensive opportunites by scoring. At half time, the Bulldogs led the game 14-0. The second half opened the same as the first closed, with the Bulldogs dominating both sides of the ball. Without Eagle, there was no offensive production. No hope. The home crowd was getting weary of the game. Their hero was nowhere to be seen. What could have happened to him? Then it began. There had been murmuring throughout the stadium during the first half, but it did not sound like this. First it started as a low mumble, then it picked up throughout the crowd. The stands began to shake. "What are they saying?" thought the reporter. Then it began to get clearer as it climaxed in a crescendo voices reminiscent of a Wagner symphony. The young word-smith furiously took notes, filling up sheet after sheet. He had covered losing teams before, but had never heard such exuberance from a losing team's fans.
The next morning readers across the east coast and southeastern states would read the story of how a fanbase rallied around their team in a losing effort, for being unfamiliar with the tobacco-strained drawl of the east Alabama pig famer, the young man mistook crying pleas of "Whar's Eagle!?" for "War Eagle."
