Football History

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The history of early sideline and press box communication is taken to task by the research prowess of Timothy P Brown and the Football Archaeology resources.

The Football Archaeologist digs deep into the research and history of a couple of features of a stadium outside of the boundaries of the playing field.

The following discussion is based on Tim's original Tidbit titled: Press Boxes and Sideline Communication.

-Transcribed on Press Box History with Timothy Brown

Hello, my football friends. This is Darin Hayes of PigskinDispatch.com. Welcome once again to The Pig Pen, your portal to positive football history, and welcome to another edition where we get to visit Timothy P. Brown of FootballArcheology.com talking about one of his recent tidbits. Tim, welcome back to The Pig Pen.

Darin, it's good to see you again and hear your sultry voice. Sultry? Well, you know. Hey, you talk to me like that, fella, you're gonna have to buy me a drink.

Yeah, unfortunately, we've never been in the same room with one another. And so, you know, someday that will happen and I will buy you a drink. Most definitely, I'll buy you one back too.

So we might not be seeing each other for very long. It'd be blurry, but we'll have some fun, that's for sure. But we will communicate.

And that's sort of the topic of tonight's episode, where you wrote a tidbit not too long ago about press boxes and some communication with the sideline from yesteryear. This is very interesting stuff, and there is some great football history that we can't wait to hear. Yeah, so this one, you know, well, as you said, is about press boxes and, you know, kind of the physical structure of the press boxes.

And then, you know, how did people on the sideline communicate with press boxes, either the coaches that ultimately made their way up there or the folks in the press? And so, you know, not to shamelessly plug my book, Hut, Hut, Hike, but you know, that book is about the origins of football terminology, you know, when they first showed up in the popular press and kind of why they came about. And so, the, you know, virtually every stadium in the world has box seats, right? And those were box seats and press boxes; those were terms that originally came from the theater world, where, you know, people paid premium prices to be closer to the stage.

And then in the case of the press, you know, they wanted whoever were the movie critics of the day, but instead, they were doing, you know, live shows, and they would come and watch the show. And so they'd get a favorable spot to do so. And so then that carried over to the football world and the baseball world.

So, you know, when stadiums ended up needing to find a place to put these, the members of the press, and, you know, early on, you know, most of these stadiums were pretty informal, you know, slapped together, you know, wooden bleachers and yada, yada. So, you know, the press boxes were pretty much of this, you know, similar ilk. So, you know, there are images, you know, so, you know, those who were listening, you know, if you get a chance to get out there and, you know, take a look at some of the images from the article, but the, you know, some of them were as simple as just a table along the sidelines where these guys sat and, you know, watch the game and made, you know, took their notes.

That image that you have on there almost reminds me of a basketball game, how, you know, your right side court or sideline and, you know, field view and, you know, guys sitting there writing stats down and newspaper articles. So that's kind of a cool picture. Yeah.

And a lot of times, you know, there were other tables along the sideline like that, but oftentimes they had like the official timer, you know, so depending on the stadium, they could sometimes offload some of the timing from the, you know, the headlinesman to, you know, to somebody on the sideline, but in any event. So then they started kind of, or like, you know, in the same periods, they started putting these press boxes up at the top of the stands, but like, you know, they're not like the fancy air-conditioned and heated press boxes of today with all kinds of internet connections. I mean, a lot of them were, you know, basically open air, you know, they might've had a roof.

Some of the images that are in there show a press box or the roof, and others do not, but a lot of them are open-air. Some are basically just like, you know, just look like, you know, they're up on scaffolding, you know. So they were pretty primitive affairs, and depending on how big the game was and, you know, what the local press corps was like, you know, it could be a half a dozen guys, or it could be, you know, whatever, 20, 30, 40.

And then, you know, once you get into the concrete stadiums, you know, starting in the, especially in the twenties, you know, then you start getting a little bit more formality around the press box, but the other challenge all along. So no matter what the, you know, no matter what the era, one of the challenges, not just for the press, but for fans in general, was just trying to figure out what the heck is going on down on the field. And so what they would do is, for a long time, there were guys who used semaphore flags or, you know, just different kinds of signals.

They communicate one way or the other to the people in the press box, like to one guy in the press box and say, Hey, here's, you know, number 22 ran the ball, or this was a touchdown, or this was a touchback or safety because those were very difficult to differentiate back in the day. And so, and you know, these are the days without player numbers and referee signals. And actually, a lot of the reason for the referee signals was to, you know, when that originated to communicate to the press.

Um, so anyways, you know, but, you know, people also were smart enough to figure, Hey, we had these things called telephones, and Penn had at least some form of telecom, telephone communication with the press box back in the 1890s. But a lot of them, you know, didn't, didn't have that. I think there was much more of the twenties and thirties era when that really started happening.

Um, so there are images there too, uh, in the article of, you know, coaches, and typically, it's just one coach on the sideline. Who's got a phone or headset? And he's talking to somebody who's observing things up, you know, up high.

Um, you know, and that's back when you didn't have an offensive and defensive coordinator yet, you know, the head coach and maybe a defensive coach, but you know, the guys who were playing offense were playing defense too. So, you know, you didn't need the specialization. So one guy talking to the spotter up high, you know, was enough.

Um, so anyway, it's just kind of interesting stuff, and you can kind of see the progression, the technology, you know, gets better and better. And, um, you know, and now it's like, you know, everybody's got their headsets. You don't even need the cords and all that kind of stuff.

So it's, uh, things are, things are different than they used to be. Well, I mean, some of it is now, like you said, sort of stayed as tradition. I know as an official, we were, you know, that's who we are signaling to.

We are to face the press box and signal the press box for, you know, now it's basically the official scorekeepers and PA announcer, not so much the press, but signaling to that. Then, the home crowd is usually on that side, and they get to see the signals. And, of course, the visitors get upset.

Maybe they can't see them as clearly, but that's how you do it traditionally. And, you know, as far as the evolution of the press box, I think I've, I've told the audiences before, and I apologize if I have, but a couple of years ago, I got to go to Tom Benson stadium outside the pro football hall of fame during the enshrinements. And I was part of the media.

I got to sit up in a press box, and I couldn't believe I'd been in a lot of high school press boxes and college press boxes. This thing has marble tables with, you know, like you said, internet connections, USB ports, and ethernet cables. And, you know, somebody asking if you need anything, you know, I was expecting to see like pencils and paper, but no, everybody had a laptop computer, and there's a little buffet set up.

And, you know, at least the NFL takes good care of you at the Hall of Fame weekend anyway, but the press box was very impressive. I wanted to live there, you know, it was nice. Yeah, no, I mean, yeah, it just, everything's changed.

And it's, you know, it's funny to even, you know, like the difference between, say, D3 level amenities and D1 or the NFL, just it's, it's night and day. I mean, the D3 people are going to do their best, and they're going to do some nice things with the limited money that they have to spend. And, you know, just ten times better than what we had, you know, back in the day, but, you know, it's crazy.

There's still out there, some of the less fortunate high schools. I know I went to one, I had to do a valuation of some officials that were doing it. So I sat up in the press box and it was one of those ones made out of plywood and you had to open up the plywood door and the guy sat down a can of, of wasp spray next to me.

He goes every once in a while; you may have to hit this thing. I'm looking; there's a wasp nest up in the corner. I'm like, Oh boy, this is going to be fun.

And it was a hot box, of course, too. So, it was a good time, but between that and Tom Benson Stadium, there was a little bit of difference. Yeah.

Yeah. Well, that's okay. But Tim, that is another beauty that you came up with.

It's a very interesting go back in the 1890s, you know, thinking about them using a, you know, telephone communication at a football game at Penn, you know, that's, that's, that blows my mind. And, uh, you know, most people never saw them in their houses at that point in time. I don't think in 18, I was right around the turn of the century when they got to become more popular, but that you have interesting things like this every day in your tidbits and, uh, you know, football related, and it's just great to do it.

And a lot of it ties into history like today's did a little bit with the telecommunications and, uh, you know, people love to hear that stuff and read that stuff. Why don't you share with them where they too can enjoy this? Yeah. So, you know, the easiest thing is just to subscribe to my, uh, subscribe on, you know, footballarcheaology.com. It's free to subscribe.

You'll get an email every day with whatever that day's story is. And, uh, you know, kind of read them at your leisure or read them the moment they come out and then, uh, or don't read them. Um, whatever is your preference.

Uh, you can also, you know, follow me on Twitter, threads, and the Substack app. So, uh, any of those will work. So whatever suits your fancy.

All right. Well, Tim, excellent job. Once again, footballarcheology.com is the website.

Timothy Brown is his name, and we will talk to you again next week on Tuesday. Hey, thank you. We'll see you soon, Darin.

Transcribed by TurboScribe.ai.

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More than just a mascot, the Oklahoma Sooners' Sooner Schooner is a rolling emblem of history, spirit, and a dash of prairie whimsy. It's a relic of a bygone era, a horse-drawn wagon that thunders onto Owen Field, carrying both tradition and the hopes of thousands of crimson-clad fans.

Its origins lie in the early 20th century, when Oklahoma adopted the "Sooner" moniker, celebrating those who rushed into newly opened Oklahoma Territory. To embody this spirit, students in 1923 built a replica covered wagon, pulled by two spirited ponies. Thus, the Sooner Schooner was born.

It wasn't just a wagon; it was a spectacle. Fireworks erupting from its wooden frame, students dressed in pioneer garb, and the booming "Boomer Sooner" fight song resonating through the stadium: the Schooner's arrival became a pre-game ritual as exhilarating as any touchdown.

But the Schooner wasn't just for show. It symbolized resilience, weathering the ups and downs of Sooner football, from national championships to heartbreaking losses. It witnessed Barry Switzer's dynasty, watched Heisman winners like Billy Sims and Baker Mayfield shine, and rumbled through the mud and snow for countless victories.

The Schooner, however, isn't static. It evolves with the times. Its wheels roll on astroturf instead of grass, its ponies wear protective gear, and its pyrotechnics have grown even more elaborate. Yet, through the changes, the core remains: a tribute to the spirit of the Sooner, a beacon of unity for the crimson horde, and a reminder that in Oklahoma, history and tradition gallop hand-in-hand. There is so much more to explore, so check out our other stories of Oklahoma Sooners football history.

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The Power T, synonymous with Tennessee Volunteers athletics, doesn't owe its origins to sophisticated design teams or elaborate brainstorming sessions. Instead, it sprung from a napkin sketch, its simple yet powerful form capturing the essence of Vol spirit.

In 1964, head football coach Doug Dickey sought a visual identity that transcended numbers on helmets. Legend has it, he doodled a T while discussing ideas with a graphic designer, creating the now-iconic silhouette. This bold symbol quickly replaced numerals on the Vols' helmets, signaling a new era.

But the Power T's journey wasn't always smooth. Some fans initially found it too modern, a departure from traditional script logos. However, its versatility and adaptability won them over. The T served as a canvas for creativity, adorned with stripes, checkerboards, and even Rocky Top lyrics. It appeared on everything from jerseys to water bottles, becoming a ubiquitous symbol of Vol pride.

In 1983, the Power T faced another transformation. Johnny Majors, seeking a more distinct identity for the women's athletic programs, introduced a separate T adorned with a blue stripe and star. This "Lady Vols" logo, later renamed "Summitt Blue" in honor of legendary coach Pat Summitt, coexisted with the original orange Power T, each representing different branches of the Vol family.

Today, the Power T reigns supreme, a unifying symbol for all Tennessee athletics. It adorns Neyland Stadium, roars alongside Smokey the mascot, and pulsates in the hearts of countless Vol fans. Its simple lines hold immense power, evoking memories of legendary victories, passionate rivalries, and generations of unwavering support.

Looking back, the Power T's journey seems fitting. A casual sketch, borne from a conversation amidst the bustle of college football, transformed into a ubiquitous emblem of one of the nation's most storied athletic programs.

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The UCF Knights football logo history reflects the program's dynamic journey from humble beginnings to national relevance. Here's a quick dive:

Early Days (1968-1979):

-The program first adopted the Pegasus in 1968, symbolizing limitless possibilities and tying into the university seal.

-The initial design depicted a black and white Pegasus head facing forward, exuding a sleek and sophisticated vibe.

The Era of the Knight (1980-1993):

-Seeking a more mascot-driven identity, UCF introduced the "Fighting Knights" in 1980.

-The logo featured a fierce knight in armor charging forward, holding a sword and shield, emphasizing strength and determination.

-Variations included a cartoonish "Sir Wins-a-lot" and a dragon-themed "Puff," but these designs were short-lived.

Return of the Pegasus (1994-Present):

-Recognizing the enduring appeal of the original Pegasus, UCF brought it back in 1994.

-The new design showcased a majestic, full-body Pegasus leaping into the air, exuding power and grace.
This became the primary logo, representing a more refined and elegant take on the program's identity.
Modern Evolutions (2000s-Present):

-The Pegasus received minor tweaks over the years, like slight adjustments to its form and the addition of the UCF letters below.

Alternate logos emerged, like the "Knightmare" with glowing red eyes for special occasions, adding a touch of dynamism.

The program embraced its nickname, incorporating "UCF Knights" in various styles alongside the Pegasus, solidifying the brand.

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The Georgia Bulldogs logo isn't just an image; it's a visual journey reflecting the evolution of the team from a fledgling club to an SEC powerhouse. Buckle up for a tailgate tour through the Bulldogs' logo history:

Early Days (1892-1920):

-Simple block "G" or "Georgia" lettering adorned early jerseys, reflecting a no-frills approach.

-The iconic red and black color scheme emerged in 1892, adding a splash of Bulldog spirit.
The Bulldog Mascot Era (1921-1963):

-1921 saw the arrival of the official mascot, a cartoon bulldog named Rex, appearing on game programs and merchandise.

-Rex sported different outfits like a football uniform or a graduation gown, injecting a playful element into the brand.

The Block "G" Takes Center Stage (1964-Present):

-1964 marked a turning point with the introduction of the now-iconic black block "G" in a white oval, designed by Head Coach Vince Dooley and Anne Donaldson. With some major influence from the Green Bay Packers success. Our friend Randy Snow has a great explanation of why Georgia's "G" looks so much like the Green Bay Packers and Grambling's headgear.



-The sleek, bold design exudes strength and confidence, perfectly capturing the essence of the Bulldogs.

-Minor adjustments have been made over the years, refining the proportions and adding subtle details.

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The University of Illinois Fighting Illini football program boasts a storied past, not just on the gridiron but also in the evolution of its visual identity. From Native American caricatures to the iconic Block I, the team's logos have mirrored the changing times and evolving cultural sensibilities, while always reflecting the fighting spirit that defines the Illini.

In the early days, Illini helmets bore a simple "Illinois" inscription, devoid of imagery. In 1947, however, the program adopted a controversial logo: a Native American chief adorned with a feathered headdress. This offensive stereotype, unfortunately common in sports at the time, was initially well-received. However, growing awareness of cultural appropriation led to its eventual retirement in 1982, replaced by a more respectful alternative - the Chief Illiniwek mascot.

Chief Illiniwek, a dancing figure based on the Peoria Tribe warrior and leader Black Hawk, served as the program's symbol for over 50 years. While popular with many fans, the mascot faced increasing criticism for its potentially disrespectful portrayal of Native American traditions. After years of debate, the University of Illinois finally retired Chief Illiniwek in 2007, marking a turning point in the team's visual identity.

The search for a new logo, one that could honor tradition while avoiding cultural insensitivity, was a delicate task. In 2014, the Illini officially adopted the Victory Badge. This modern symbol combines the iconic Block I with two facing F's, representing the "fight" the team embodies. The design also subtly references the columns of Memorial Stadium, paying homage to the program's history and honoring the fallen soldiers who inspired the nickname "Fighting Illini."

But the journey doesn't end there. Recently, discussions have resurfaced regarding the Victory Badge's potential cultural insensitivity, with some students claiming its F's resemble war clubs used by some Indigenous tribes. While no official changes have been implemented, the conversation highlights the complexities of balancing tradition with respect and responsibility.

Get ready for today's NFL Trivia Question of the Day! In just 14 seconds, we'll challenge your football knowledge with a question that separates the fans from the true experts.

Stay tuned and test your gridiron IQ right here!

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Joe Ziemba, the foremost expert on Chicago Cardinals history goes all in on telling a story. When he gets a chance to chat about the memories of one of the Cardinals greats like Charley Trippi, this story teller shifts to a different gear.

Charley Trippi was a football prodigy whose versatility and skill set were unmatched in his era. A standout at the University of Georgia, he was a triple-threat, excelling as a runner, passer, and return specialist. His college career was interrupted by World War II, but upon returning, he continued to dominate.

Drafted first overall by the Chicago Cardinals in 1945, Trippi quickly became a cornerstone of their offense. Known as a "quintuple threat" for his ability to run, pass, catch, punt, and defend, he was a nightmare for opponents. His rookie season culminated in a NFL championship, a testament to his immediate impact.

Throughout his nine-year career, Trippi's extraordinary talent and athleticism made him one of the most electrifying players in the league. His records for total offense stood for decades, a testament to his enduring legacy as one of the greatest all-around football players of all time.

Joe shares in this episode the story of the NFL and other pro teams that competed for the right to ink Trippi to a professional contract. It involves some of the biggest names in football at the time and is truly a podcast worth listening in on.

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The Air Force Academy Falcons football program has a rich history, dating back to its inaugural season in 1955. While only sometimes known as national contenders, the Falcons have established themselves as a consistently competitive team known for their unique option offense and disciplined play. Let's take a look at the last 30 seasons of Air Force football:

-1994-2006:

This period saw Air Force join the Western Athletic Conference (WAC) and experience the most successful stretch in program history.
The Falcons won three conference championships (1995, 1997, 1998) and appeared in seven bowl games, including the 1998 Copper Bowl, where they defeated the Fresno State Bulldogs 45-20.

Notable players from this era include quarterback Beau Morgan, running back Chad Hall, and linebacker Reggie Rivers.

-2007-2012:

Following Troy Calhoun's arrival as head coach in 2007, Air Force embarked on a new era.
Though the program experienced a different level of success than the previous decade, it remained competitive within the WAC, winning the conference championship in 2010 and appearing in three bowl games.

This period saw the emergence of notable players like quarterback Tim Jefferson, running back Asher Clark, and safety Chris Harris Jr.

With the WAC's dissolution, Air Force moved to the Mountain West Conference (MWC).

The program faced challenges adjusting to the new conference and experienced inconsistent seasons.
Despite the ups and downs, Air Force won the MWC Mountain Division championship in 2019 and appeared in three bowl games.

Cheer for a team where excellence extends beyond the scoreboard. The Air Force Falcons fly high with a winning tradition, academic prowess, and a commitment to developing strong leaders both on and off the field. Witness the power of teamwork and dedication as these Falcons take to the sky (or rather, the gridiron) for a thrilling season!

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The iconic black and gold of the Iowa Hawkeyes isn't just a color scheme; it's a living tapestry woven with the threads of the program's rich history, vividly expressed through its evolving logos. From the simplicity of early days to the fierce Tigerhawk, each design choice echoes tales of tradition, rivalry, and a relentless pursuit of gridiron glory.

In the golden age of Hawkeye football, under the legendary Forest Evashevski, helmets gleamed in solid gold – a symbol of elegance and a reflection of the Hawkeyes' unwavering spirit. This classic look, adorned with black numbers, captured the stoic resilience that defined both the team and the Iowa landscape.

But change, much like the changing seasons, swept across the gridiron. In 1979, Coach Hayden Fry, a man of vision and swagger, ushered in a new era. The gold gave way to bold black and gold stripes, mirroring the Pittsburgh Steelers' dominant uniforms. This shift wasn't just aesthetic; it was a declaration of a new Hawkeye identity – aggressive, modern, and ready to roar.

And then came the Tigerhawk. Fry's brainchild, this stylized hawk's head formed by the interweaving stripes, instantly soared into fame. It was fierce, modern, and uniquely Hawkeye, instantly becoming a national sensation and etching itself as the program's defining emblem.

But the Tigerhawk, like all symbols, wasn't immune to evolution. In 2010, a subtle black outline sharpened its gaze, adding a touch of predatory intensity. This minor adjustment reflected the program's constant pursuit of excellence, its refusal to rest on past laurels.

Beyond aesthetics, the Hawkeye logo has borne the scars of tragedy and resilience. On the left side of the helmet, a single black number "24" - a silent tribute to fallen Heisman Trophy winner Nile Kinnick – evokes a pang of memory and reinforces the unyielding Hawkeye spirit.