Iowa State vs. Oklahoma State Recap: Special Indeed

There was something in the air on Saturday afternoon as Iowa State played the first half of its homecoming game against Oklahoma State. It was not something special, though, to borrow the words of Joe Tessitore from 2011. No, it was something else. Something like anxiety. Something like consternation. Something like frustration. 

There were some good moments, but overall it just didn’t feel right inside Jack Trice Stadium as Oklahoma State built up a 14-7 halftime lead. It felt too similar to the games where I had watched OSU win the last two years, where it just didn’t look or feel quite like the Iowa State football team we expected to see. And after losing to Iowa at home, and losing the first Big 12 game to take away almost all margin for error in the conference title race, it felt troublesome. 

That feeling changed in one moment in the second half. 

I have written before that Iowa State fans vs. the refs could be its own chapter. We are so used to weird calls going against us in big moments. We are so used to those calls killing our momentum and making us say “what if?”

In an Oklahoma State series that resulted in some of the most bizarre games and plays I have ever witnessed, this one would rank near the top.

On Iowa State’s first drive of the third quarter, quarterback Brock Purdy found receiver Xavier Hutchinson on a slant route, and Hutchinson broke free for what should have been a 54-yard-touchdown as the crowd roared. My friend Chris pointed out that there was a flag on the field near the endzone. “You have to be kidding me, they are going to call him for taunting!”

Toward the end of the play, Hutchinson turned his head to look behind him. When he saw nobody was around, he high-stepped his last couple steps into the endzone in celebration. Or at least that’s what I thought I saw. 

The referee saw what he perceived as taunting. My best guess (the refs don’t have to answer for their calls after the game, so we don’t know for sure) is that the ref thought Hutchinson’s look back was a form of trash talk… or something. The resulting call was a 15-yard-penatly from the spot of the foul, meaning Iowa State’s touchdown was wiped off the board. 

As tens of thousands of fans booed, I stared in disbelief. They can’t have really called that. I must be missing something. They really did call it. Instead of a 14-14 tie, it was still 14-7 Oklahoma State. After I finally mentally comprehended what happened, I joined in the boos. 

“Worst call I’ve ever seen.” I wrote in my group text chain. I didn’t say that lightly, and I wasn’t the only person saying it. National college football personality Brett McMurphy tweeted “I just witnessed the worst call in (the) history of college football.” On the radio broadcast, play-by-play announcer John Walters yelled “That is HORRIBLE!” Color commentator Eric Heft said, “This is like the worst call in NCAA history.” On the Fox television broadcast, rules analyst Mike Pereira said “I really don’t like that call.”

It was the type of call that could ultimately cost a team a game, and we had seen this play out before. These Cyclones, as I continued to learn, were different under coach Matt Campbell’s leadership. The Cyclones lined up at the 18-yard line and completed a 6-yard pass play. (Immediately after the play more boos reigned down.) Purdy then ran for 3-yards. (More boos). On 3rd-and-1, Purdy threw it to the endzone to — who else? — Hutchinson. He caught it for a touchdown as the crowd again cheered loudly. Iowa State had overcome the adversity to tie the game.

After the extra point was good, Campbell appeared to chew out the ref near the sideline in animated fashion. Hutchinson looked toward the fans behind the bench and encouraged them to cheer louder. Some fans did cheer, but many more continued to boo. “Juicy Wiggle” came on the loudspeakers, which got fans clapping and dancing, but there were a few more boos after the ensuing kickoff.

Now, there was something special in the air. It wasn’t the shocking feeling of seeing a Cyclone team that was a heavy underdog compete with Oklahoma State back in 2011. It was an entire attitude shift. The crowd now had a chip on its collective shoulder; there was some anger in the air. More importantly, there was a feeling of unity. These were our Cyclones. This was our stadium. This was our game to win. 

It was Cyclones vs. the World. The team had overcome a bad call to tie the game. And we the fans weren’t going to let our Cyclones lose. 

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When your football team is coming off an impressive road win and welcoming a top 10 team to its home stadium, you would think the conversation among fans would revolve around football. Instead, for the first part of the week, the conversation was all about the school’s athletic logo. 

On Tuesday, the Iowa State University Book Store released a line of merchandise with the school logo that got phased out beginning in 2008. The half bird, half tornado, or as some of us in the band called it, “bird-in-a-blender.” In the same time period, navy blue had worked its way into the logo and athletic uniforms and merchandise (which many Cyclone fans lovingly, or not-so-lovingly, refer to as “tertiary blue”), a trend that was phased out heavily with the logo change (to eventually be replaced by Campbell’s seemingly favorite color, black). Tertiary blue was back with the Book Store’s merchandise. It had become nearly impossible to find merchandise with that logo, or any gear with tertiary blue, in recent years as it seemed the school had done a good job phasing it out. It was, in my opinion, the perfect time to bring it back; someone like me is just old enough to have gotten rid of nearly all my old logo merchandise and clothing, and would have feelings of nostalgia. Someone in college today may not have ever even owned any gear with the old logo or color scheme. It did make me feel a little bit old to have the logo from when I was a student now be referred to as “vintage.” 

It got Cyclone fans on Twitter abuzz. It was a topic on Cyclone-related podcasts. It was a dominant topic on my text message chain. It set off a friendly debate. “What is the best logo in school history?” “Is the tornado Cy (or bird-in-a-blender) logo attractive or ugly?” And: “Do we love or hate tertiary blue?”

I remember the first few years after the logo and color scheme changed. I would cringe just a little when I saw people wear gear with the old logo. I wanted Iowa State to have a strong, united brand, and having the outdated logo out there seemed counterintuitive to that. When the Book Store released its new vintage merchandise, however, I was ultimately all for it. It was the logo I grew up wearing, and the logo that was on the front of my marching band uniform. I even eyed purchasing a tertiary blue sweatshirt with the logo, a purchase that, as of writing this, I had not pulled the trigger on yet. 

Oh, and for my money, the best logo in school history is the “Walking Cy” logo, of which I happily purchased a t-shirt at Saturday’s game. 

I think my favorite part of the entire discussion was that it was another reminder how much people who care about Cyclone football (and other sports, and the university in general) have emotional attachments to elements as basic as the logo. On homecoming week, it was the perfect flashpoint of a conversation to make many of us reminisce. It was totally fitting when my wife, Paige, found the one piece of clothing I still owned with the old tornado Cy logo on it that I could wear to the game (no tertiary blue in this one, though).

Eventually, the conversation turned to game week. It was set to be a classic fall day in Ames. Chilly in the morning with temperatures in the 30s, reaching the 50s by gametime, with sunshine. My friend Charles was coming from Minneapolis for the game. My friends Chris and Kaci were bringing their nearly two-year-old son to his first game. The regular tailgating crew was going to be out in full force. And my friend Jason was hosting a reunion tailgate for his old fraternity, Theta Xi, which despite not being a part of, I still wanted to check out. It was shaping up to be a wonderful day of tailgating.

Charles and I decided to go up early to meet the larger tailgating group. Since the parking lots would open six hours before the 2:30 p.m. game kickoff, we made plans to arrive before 8:30 a.m. My wife, Paige, would ride up with Chris and Kaci later in the morning.

Charles and I arrived, met up with the group and caravanned into the grass lot together. I was bundled up with a long sleeve t-shirt, my “Welcome to Brocktober” t-shirt for good luck to support quarterback Brock Purdy, my Iowa State sweatshirt with the tornado Cy, and a gray zip-up sweatshirt with an I-State logo, in addition to my walking Cy hat and gloves. As we set up, I broke out my first drink. It wasn’t a beer this time, but rather the Iowish Cream Salted Caramel Liqueur from Mississippi River Distilling Company (mixed into some coffee, of course, but I also had to sip a little on its own to get the full taste). Chris, meanwhile, texted us highlights from the 2011 ISU upset of OSU, later telling us that he watched the entire game that morning. It seemed to make him feel good vibes.

After catching up, playing a game and enjoying the company, I made my way up to Jason’s tailgate. It was the first time this season I had walked from the south side of the stadium to the north during a gameday. Tailgaters were already out in full force. It was a festive atmosphere all around. Team flags flew everywhere, music blared, people had grills set up and spreads of food. The sun shone brightly. What a wonderful day. 

I arrived at Jason’s tailgate. Generations of Theta Xi members were there. Both of Jason’s sons were in Theta Xi, one a recent graduate and one a current student, meaning the tailgate was a confluence of past and present members. Jason was still sporting the mustache, forced to keep it after Iowa State’s win at Kansas State. Upon my arrival, Jason was excited to show me how he had adapted a time-honored tradition from my normal tailgate crew: grilling pizza rolls. Except he did it a little differently than us. Instead of dumping the entire bag onto the grill, I watched as Jason neatly laid out each individual pizza roll one by one, in straight rows and columns on the grill. A few minutes later, he flipped each one by one. He brought a higher level of sophistication to the entire process. 

Jason also put some homemade habanero peppers stuffed with pork on the grill. 

“Do you like spicy,” he asked? 

“Just a little bit. Maybe I’ll just eat a couple of those ones,” I replied. 

He laughed and let me know I probably wouldn’t be able to handle that. A few minutes later, he handed them out to a number of people. I ate mine; after chewing and swallowing, my tongue began to burn. The burn picked up in intensity, and just sat there painfully. I began to take sips of beer and hold them in my mouth as long as I could to try to take the sting off. I watched others going through the same experience. One unfortunate person had accidentally touched his eye after touching the pepper; tears were streaming down his face. I made a mental note to wash my hands before touching my face. A few minutes later, I ran into my friends Dave and Tyler, frequent visitors of my normal tailgate crew who had also stopped by to say hello to Jason. Dave let me know his mouth was burning. So was mine, ten minutes after eating the snack. 

I headed back to my normal tailgate, where Paige had arrived along with Chris and Kaci and their son. The anticipation of gameday was building. We ate a few snacks, finished our drinks and headed into the stadium. We arrived in time to see the band begin to make their way to the field. The Iowa State University Alumni Band was also in attendance for the homecoming game. 

I always get a little extra nostalgic about the band during homecoming. If you ever want to get just a little bit of a taste of what it’s like to be a rock star, join a college marching band. 

Sure, you may not think playing a sousaphone is all that glamorous, but for fifteen minutes or so before kickoff at a Cyclone home game, you are the star of the show.  

I thought back to my time in the band. The memory of each game runs together, but I can still remember the overall experience vividly. 

About thirty minutes before the game, we would take our spot on the sidelines. The football teams would still be finishing their warmups on the field. Around us, the stands would begin to fill up as people filed in. The student section was already full. There was a buzz in the stadium; even though the game hadn’t started yet, I had to talk loudly to the people around me. The public address announcer continued to read ad spots and other general information. All around, my eyes and ears were flooded with the business of gameday; cheerleaders finding their spots, the student section decked out in cardinal and gold, the sound of pads on the field, gameday staff taking care of various tasks. 

As the players on either team ended their warmups, they huddled up as a team, then jogged into the locker room. When the Cyclone players headed toward their locker room, the student section and others already in the stadium stood and applauded. The buzz of pleasant conversation around the stadium turned into the first semi-deafening cheer of the day. 

I picked up my sousaphone as they came off the field. It was our turn. For the big games, the crowd knew it too. Students slowly began cheering. Those moments signified to the fans in the stadium that the show — our routine, the pregame video, the players’ walk to the field, and then the game itself — was about to begin. For thousands that were still in the parking lot, our first notes indicated it was time for them to pack up the tailgate and head in.

For the more heavily anticipated games, such as on CyHawk gameday, most people were already in the stadium at this point, and they were ready for us. Chants of “I-S-U! I-S-U!” reverberated. Or “Let’s Go State!” 

The drumline would begin to march on the field in formation. The student section, if they weren’t already standing, came to its feet. Our PA announcer began his introductions on. “Now entering the field, the pride of Iowa State. It’s the Iowa State University Cyclone Football Varsityyyyyyyyyy Marching Band!” The drum major blew their whistle. “TWEEEEEEEET Tweet Tweet” and I answered “Go State” as the drumline began its cadence. And we’re off. 

To enter the field, we would do a type of march we called “X-ing.” Basically, we lifted our leg to a 45-degree angle with our toe pointed straight down. We performed this motion in rapid succession to the beat of the drumline. It was like the marching version of running. It got your blood flowing, and seemed to match the energy and intensity of the crowd. We would “X” in circles six-to-eight times (I’ll be honest, I never actually counted) as the drumline played its cadence. We were moving too fast to say anything. It was too loud to hear the person next to you. Everyone around me looked the same wearing their uniforms. For me, even though I was surrounded by people in my circle, even though there were tens of thousands of fans in the stadium, this was the moment of the day that I felt most alone, in a good way. I would be totally in the zone. 

Then, the drum major blew their whistle and it was time to line up in our formation. As the drumline wrapped up its cadence, the PA announcer wrapped up his introduction (“It’s the Iowa State University Cyclone Football Varsityyyyyyyyyy Marching Band!). Although the routine changed a bit over the years, during my time in the band we would go straight from the cadence into our first song, a processional of sorts, meant to build energy. We were stationary, and although I was watching the drum major, I was also taking in the site of a two-deck Big 12 stadium full of people in the background. It was a surreal feeling to think about, for some games, fifty-thousand people were watching me (and the other three-hundred-or-so people on the field). We were on stage. We were the stars. 

Everyone in the stadium knew what was about to happen next: The fight song. As we played the first notes of the fight song, we began our high-step marching. The fans stood and clapped in unison. We lined up in our classic “ISU” formation and marched in unison down the field. For the sousaphones, we would form two diagonal lines at the top of the formation that would meet in the middle. My senior year, I was the top point of that line. It wasn’t quite “Dotting The I” at Ohio State, but it made it much easier to tell my friends and family where they could find me. 

Marching down the field, playing the fight song, fifty-thousand fans clapping in unison. My middle school and high school self would have thought it was the coolest thing in the world. My college self knew it was the coolest thing in my world. 

The first time I watched a game from the stands during my post-band days was truly one of the most emotional experiences I’ve ever had. Watching the band do all the things I had been a part of just nine months or so ago. I’m not ashamed to admit a few tears streamed down my face as I heard “TWEEEEEEET Tweet Tweet” “Go State!” 

Because I knew everything that led up to that moment. The week of camp before school started, with our own version of two-a-day practices. That there were freshmen who, like me, had arrived on campus just a few weeks ago, nervous about embarking on college life during their first time away from home, who spent the first day on campus going to band practice. Odds were they would meet at least one lifelong friend, just as I met a few (one of whom, Charles, had ridden to the game with me on Saturday). They would sweat their body weight in water learning the drills. Now, they were on the field in front of fifty-thousand fans, and me, as I was coming to terms with the fact that I would never be in their shoes again.

During the homecoming game each year, there are a number of alumni who do get to relive some of those old memories in the Alumni Marching Band. It’s a chance for people to get back on campus, catch up, meet some of the current band members and march on the field again at Jack Trice Stadium. 

As I wrote this, thirteen years removed from my last year in college, I hadn’t yet participated. There were a few reasons for this. For one, I still tailgated with a group I became friends with mostly through the band. For another, I was usually too intense about the game itself to necessarily want to focus on playing an instrument. Perhaps most importantly, I unfortunately hadn’t played the instrument since I graduated. 

For many people, the Alumni Band is one of their major connections back to the university, back to their college days, back to their friends. They participate year after year. Band is such a big part of not only your life, but your identity as a college student, and I think there’s something beautiful about the fact that the Alumni Band gives people a true tie back to their Cyclone roots.  We should all be so lucky to have that kind of bond with something from our younger years. Each year, I watch them, and the “varsity” band, with a little bit of nostalgia.

During Saturday’s pregame show before the Oklahoma State game, I clapped along with everyone else as the band played the fight song and cheered as they led the crowd in the “Cyclone! Power!” chant. The Cyclone Weather Alert played (“Cowboy fans in the warned area should seek immediate cover”) and the team began its walk to the field. A sellout crowd at Jack Trice Stadium welcomed them. The student section had been handed white towels, which they waved with enthusiasm, providing an eye-catching scene.

Iowa State received the ball first. Last week, the Cyclones had opened the game with a 75-yard touchdown run by Breece Hall. I imagined they would give it to Hall again for the first carry, but instead Purdy rolled out to pass and found a wide open Charlie Kolar, who caught the ball with space to run. It was a 34-yard-gain, and the crowd was alive. Unfortunately, it didn’t last. Iowa State faced a 4th-and-1 from the Cowboy 32-yard line. Campbell elected to go for the first down. I figured it would be a handoff to Hall, but instead Purdy faked the handoff and pitched the ball forward to Kolar, who was met at the line of scrimmage and dropped. It was a turnover on downs. From the stands, I had no idea what happened. I couldn’t tell who had the ball, and never even realized until re-watching later what actually happened. None-the-less, I could feel the excitement in the stadium dissipate a bit. 

Oklahoma State was forced to punt on its first possession, but downed the ball at the 7-yard-line of Iowa State, pinning the Cyclones near their endzone. Iowa State went three-and-out and was forced to punt it back. OSU ended up starting its possession in Iowa State territory at the 48-yard line as clips of the Iowa game the prior month played in my mind. Oklahoma State took advantage of the short field to march down for a touchdown, with quarterback Spencer Sanders finding Brennan Presley for a touchdown to make it 7-0. 

Iowa State got the ball back and had its drive immediately blown up as Purdy was sacked at the 10-yard-line on first down. On 4th-and-7 from its own 25, Iowa State lined up the punt, but didn’t get the play off in time. The delay of game penalty pushed Iowa State back five yards, and the crowd groaned. “I just don’t understand!” I yelled in frustration. It was a little thing, but with a shaky punt unit and a game where field position would be a big deal, it was extra frustrating. Iowa State had already given up a touchdown on a short field, and now Oklahoma State would have another opportunity to shorten the field. Andrew Mavis, Iowa State’s placekicker who got his first call to handle punting duties as well against Oklahoma State, made up for it by booting the ball 50 yards. My frustration level remained high, and I could feel it in the crowd as well.

Oklahoma State again moved the ball as the first quarter ended. Iowa State held Oklahoma State to a field goal attempt. I let out a cheer as the ref called the kick “no good.” It was wide right, and the crowd had a little bit of life. 

Iowa State’s offense responded with its first long drive of the game. In the prior week’s win over Kansas State, the Cyclones went on an 18-play drive that took more than 10 minutes of gametime off the clock. During that drive, I was hyper-aware of how impressive it was. I didn’t fully realize until after the game how impressive Iowa State’s first touchdown drive against the Cowboys was. The Cyclones held the ball for 15 plays and more than nine-and-a-half minutes of possession, converting three third downs. It was almost all for not, though, as the Cyclones were unable to push it in on 2nd-and-goal or 3rd-and-goal from the 1-yard line. From the stands, much of the crowd, myself included, thought that Iowa State crossed the goal line on a first down run and second down run, but the ref disagreed with us. On fourth down, Purdy rolled out and found Hutchinson a yard into the endzone for a spectacular diving catch to score its first touchdown of the day to make it 7-7. In the ensuing timeout, Paige and I bobbed up and down as a dance beat thumped over the stadium’s loudspeakers. Finally, some momentum!

Iowa State forced a three-and-out to get the ball back with just over two minutes before halftime, starting the drive at its own 45. 

“If we can go score here, it would be huge,” I said. After trailing most of the half, I was excited to see Iowa State have the chance to grab the lead before halftime. It wasn’t meant to be as Purdy was sacked on third down and Iowa State was forced to punt. Oklahoma State then grabbed the momentum back, first with a 25-yard pass from Sanders to Tay Martin, and then with a 42-yard heave to the endzone. The pass was intended for Presley, but both Isheem Young and Greg Eisworth for Iowa State had him well-covered. 

“C’mon!” I yelled, hoping for an interception. “Unbelievable” I yelled again as Presley somehow got over both defenders to make a highlight-worthy catch for a touchdown. It was 14-7 Oklahoma State and the momentum had turned back. 

Between the failed fourth down, the delay of game penalty, the short-field touchdown, the difficulty Iowa State had in scoring from the 1-yard line and the unlikely catch for OSU’s second touchdown, there was a weird feeling in the air as the first half ended. 

We watched the Cyclone Marching Band and Alumni Band play their halftime shows, and as the second half began the Iowa State defense immediately held OSU to a three-and-out after halftime to get the ball back to the offense. That’s when Hutchinson’s should-have-been touchdown was called back. Iowa State scored a few plays later, and the stadium’s vibe had changed. It was now personal for Iowa State fans. I didn’t fully realize it at first, but Charles (and other fans) pointed out after that game that it felt like the Jack Trice Stadium crowd needed something like that call to galvanize us. It worked. I feel it’s an overused cliché (probably by me as well) to say an atmosphere was electric, but the atmosphere was electric from that point on. 

Oklahoma State answered with a quick drive down the field, but the ISU crowd got on its feet for a 3rd-and-5 play from the 19-yard line. Iowa State stopped running back Jaylen Warren after a gain of four, making it fourth down. Oklahoma State again lined up for a field goal. The kick sailed toward the goal posts. We gave an abbreviated cheer as we thought we saw the kick go wide right, and then let loose after the refs signaled “no good.” It was OSU’s second missed field goal of the day, and there was something special in the air. 

Iowa State put together another good drive before settling for a field goal attempt of its own, a 29-yarder by Mevis that went through to give the Cyclones their first lead of the day at 17-14. The crowd was electric again as Oklahoma State faced a 3rd-and-14 on its next possession. It was so loud that the television cameras on the Fox broadcast appeared to shake. Sanders faced pressure, rolled out, and threw an incomplete pass. Iowa State began another drive as the third quarter ended and the fourth quarter began. The Cyclones faced a 4th-and-2 from the Oklahoma State 42-yard line, and Campbell made what felt like an aggressive play call for him to go for it. I’ll admit I did not have a good feeling about the decision and said so in the stands. 

“I hope they prove me wrong.” I said. Purdy took the ball and ran for no gain, giving Oklahoma State great field position. It was a high-risk, high-reward play, and Iowa State did not get the reward. Chris liked the decision; I wasn’t as big of a fan.

After the game Campbell told reporters “Should we have punted the ball over there and played defense? Maybe.” Sometimes there is no clear right or wrong decision in game management. 

Unfortunately, Oklahoma State did take advantage of the good field position to score on five plays in just more than two minutes, giving the Cowboys the lead again at 21-17 with just more than eight-and-a-half minutes to play. 

I had a feeling that however the next drive went could ultimately define Iowa State’s season. Down four, the Cyclones would need to score a touchdown to win, and a failure to do so on that drive would squarely put the game in Oklahoma State’s favor. 

Campbell said a few weeks prior that “A players” need to make “A plays” for Iowa State to be successful. Purdy, the senior quarterback, and Hall, the star running back, would do just that. Purdy found Hall for a short pass in space that he turned into a 30-yard gain near midfield. The crowd was back into it. Purdy found Hutchinson for 13 yards, and then found Tarique Milton, a redshirt senior who had battled through an injury-filled 2020 season, for a 33-yard gain to the Oklahoma State 4-yard line. Hall then took it the final four yards for a touchdown and a 24-21 Cyclone lead. There was again something special in the air.

Oklahoma State got the ball back with five-and-a-half minutes left. Every now and again, maybe once per season if I’m lucky, I get a moment at Jack Trice Stadium where I forget where I am, where I forget anything else in the world, really. I jump up and down, pump my fists in the air and yell as loud as I possibly can — while everyone around me does basically the same thing. These are the kind of moments that you dream of as a sports fan. 

That moment happened on second down. Sanders went back to pass but fumbled the snap before picking it up, and Will McDonald, who will almost certainly be playing for an NFL team in 2022, finally broke through and got to an off-balance Sanders for a sack and 8-yard loss. The stadium may have generated on the Richter Scale the next play, on 3rd-and-18, as the crowd roared for the Cyclone defense to make a stop, and McDonald broke through for another sack. Ten years prior, when Iowa State was in the process of pulling off the big upset over the Cowboys in 2011, Chris would excitedly smack me across the chest (lightly, of course) in excitement after seemingly every big play. After McDonald’s second sack in 2021, he did it again. I returned the gesture. The defense had come up with its biggest stop of the day with less than five minutes remaining. I had begun to lose my voice. 

Iowa State was unable to pick up a first down and had to punt the ball away, meaning the defense had to come up with one more stop with just over two minutes remaining. Oklahoma State gained some traction this time, picking up a pair of first downs to get to midfield and close in on field goal range. A key false start penalty made it 1st-and-15. Sanders completed a pass to Tay Martin for 10 yards to set up 2nd-and-5, before an incomplete pass set up 3rd-and-5. Warren ran for three yards to make it 4th-and-2. The game was on the line, and I was using what was left of my voice to yell as loud as I could. 

Sanders threw a quick out pass to Presley, who looked like he had a chance at the first down before being met by Young and Kym-Mani King right at the first down line. The refs spotted the ball, but it was too close to call. Both teams were trying to claim it was their ball. It was going to come down to a measurement. 

It is always a little crazy to me how with all the technology that exists in a football broadcast, they still use a chain to measure for a first down. As the chain crew walked onto the field, the tension was palpable. The chain was extended, and… it was just beyond the length of the football, meaning Oklahoma State was short of the first down. It was Iowa State’s football. The crowd celebrated. I looked at the stands. It looked like the crowd was bouncing. On the telecast, the Fox cameras again shook. 

“Are the cameras strapped down?” play-by-play announcer Aaron Goldsmith asked? The upper deck of the student section began to fill into the lower deck. 

“See that?” I pointed out to Paige. “They’re getting ready to rush the field.” 

There was one more hurdle. The referee crew needed to review it. We were ready to party. I just couldn’t imagine, in my celebratory state, how they could possibly overturn the play. And then I remembered how often it felt like these calls went against Iowa State. They can’t overturn this one. They just can’t. 

The ref came on the microphone. “After further review, the ruling on the field stands.” 

Pandemonium. Iowa State had won. We were high-fiving, hugging, yelling. 

Purdy, the senior who led Iowa State to its last top 10 win in this stadium as a then-freshman in his first career start in 2018, took the snap and took a knee. This is why we call it Brocktober. As we awaited the final snap, I joined everyone around me in yelling “Let’s go State! Let’s go State!” Yeah, I knew they were both “State,” but in this case I was pretty sure there could have been no confusion as to which team we were cheering for. Purdy took the final snap and knee, and I threw my fist in the air as the students (and others) came onto the field in celebration. 

How could you not love college football?

“Sweet Caroline” came on the loudspeaker. I swayed back and forth. “Sweeeeet Caroline” “Bah! Bah! Bah!” “Good times never seemed so good” “SO GOOD! SO GOOD! SO GOOD!”

I had a crystalizing moment as I watched the field fill with Cyclone fans. In the big wins in 2020, we hadn’t gotten to experience this, together. It was the kind of moment I wanted to imprint in my mind forever. It was the kind of moment I hoped never to take for granted again.

Chris and Kaci took a photo with their son. It was his first game. He wouldn’t understand the significance at that moment, of course, but I felt sure his parents would tell the story often in years to come. I imagined Chris would sit down at some point with him, perhaps when he was a little older, and watch the replay with him. Paige and I took a photo as well with the crowd on the field in the background. 

I didn’t want to leave the stands. I could have stood there for an hour. After a few minutes, Charles and our friends James and Derek joined us (their seats were a few rows above us.) We began our walk back to the car. It was one of the happiest walks I’ve had in awhile.

Some games, I wait until the next day to read too much about it. Saturday evening, I read every Des Moines Register article, every Cyclone Fanatic article and what felt like every tweet about the game. Likewise, I almost never go back and watch the game broadcast until months after the season, but Sunday I watched a number of the highlights. I was struck by just how loud Jack Trice Stadium sounded on television. It was a great showcase for Iowa State football. 

It would be easy to compare this win to the win 10 years ago. An Oklahoma State team came into Jack Trice Stadium and lost to an unranked Iowa State team. In so many ways, it was nothing alike. Iowa State was a massive underdog in 2011. In 2021, the people who set the betting lines favored Iowa State. In 2011, we were in shock that Iowa State was somehow even staying in the game with Oklahoma State. In 2021, we expected a close game, and most of us probably expected a Cyclone win coming in. Most importantly, in 2011, it was the kind of game that made the rest of the season feel like a success. Iowa State didn’t win any of its last three games that season after the OSU upset, but we still remember the season fondly because of that game. In 2021, it felt like another step in a journey that was far from complete. 

When I left that game 10 years ago, I knew it was my favorite Iowa State football game of all time at the time. The 2021 game ranks right up there, but it’s importance could still take weeks to fully appreciate, depending on how the rest of the season plays out. On top of that, there could be games down the road this season that end up being more memorable. Only time will tell. 

I do know this: Iowa State vs. Oklahoma State in 2021 was one of the best football games I have ever witnessed. It was one of the most passionate, and most intense football games I have ever witnessed. It, like so many games between these two teams over the years, had its share of weird and controversial plays. Both teams clearly wanted it so much, and the fans in the stadium did too. It was college football perfection.

There was something special in the air. Special, indeed.