Connect with us

Published

on

It’s just a big ol’ block of stone. It isn’t sculpted. It’s not bronzed or dipped in gold. It hasn’t been carved into the image of a football or a dude carrying a football. There are no corporate logos. Just simple black block letters embossed into three sides of the rectangular rock, reading “S.D.”, “N.D.” and “190 M.”

The quartzite it is made from is roughly a billion years old, exposed on the Earth’s surface by the flow of the Big Sioux River after its spigot was turned on more than 10,000 years ago. Yet this trophy is so young it couldn’t yet buy itself a drink if it wanted to. But somehow, in only 18 years, it has become as timeless as the forces that forged it, the rough-hewn reward for winning what might very well be college football’s most intense rivalry.

It is the Dakota Marker, and all 75 pounds of it will be hoisted this weekend on the floor of the Fargodome by either the North Dakota State Bison or the South Dakota State Jackrabbits. A pair of schools separated by only 190 miles (see: that “190 M” engraving), divided by a border that is watched over by the 800-pound, 130-year-old quarried ancestors of the trophy they fight to possess.

“The Marker would be special all on its own just because it’s so cool and the history behind it is amazing. It’s the story of the Dakotas,” Carson Wentz explained this summer when the Bison-turned-Washington Commanders quarterback was asked about the rivalry in which he went 2-0 as a starter. “But then you add what is at stake in this game, what always seems to be at stake in this game, and it just multiplies what the Marker means by a hundred.”

When the rivals kick off Saturday (3:30 PM ET, ESPN+), they will do so as the nation’s No. 1 (NDSU) and No. 2 (SDSU) teams in the FCS. The victor will seize an undisputed top ranking while moving into the inside lane for both the Missouri Valley Conference championship and home-field advantage throughout the FCS playoffs.

The Bison are seeking their mind-bending 10th FCS championship since 2011. The Jacks are still hunting their first, having lost the title game by two points just two seasons ago. This will be their 10th straight meeting as top-10 teams. Two of those came in the playoffs, the most recent an NDSU win in the national semifinals. North Dakota State has lost only two regular-season FCS games over the past two seasons, and both were Dakota Marker losses to the Jackrabbits. Last December it appeared the two teams might be on track for the ultimate postseason rematch in the national title game until SDSU lost to Montana State in the semis.

There are 18 North Dakotans on the Bison’s roster and three South Dakotans. On the Jackrabbits’ roster there are 29 South Dakotans and exactly zero players from “the state to the north.” NDSU linebackers coach Grant Olson won three national titles as an All-American Bison linebacker. SDSU quarterbacks coach Zach Lujan threw 29 TD passes as a Jack, and passing game coordinator Josh Davis still holds the school record with 16 catches in a single game. NDSU assistant coach Tyler Roehl was an All-American running back who ran for 263 yards against Minnesota in a Big Ten “money game.” SDSU assistant Jimmy Rogers registered 312 tackles and three forced fumbles as a Jackrabbits linebacker. One of those was via a head-in collision with Roehl, a turnover that all but clinched South Dakota State’s taking of the Dakota Marker in 2007. Now they match wits as offensive coordinator versus defensive coordinator.

“There’s a level of frustration because you can’t go back in time and redo what you did as a player,” says Roehl, visibly working hard not to furrow his brow as he talks more about the two Marker games he lost as a player than the one his team won. “But that’s why I am back. You can continue to work to have an impact on the game from a coach and continue to put our players in position to be successful. I respect them. I just really want to beat them.”

“It consumes me, to be honest,” Rogers confesses, sitting at a desk covered in old-school playbook pages. “Not hoisting the Marker. Don’t ask what that feels like because I’ve never done that. Not as a player or a coach. I let the other guys do that. I don’t want to be running to that and miss my favorite part.”

And, what’s that, Coach?

“Watching them walk off the field. Watching them have to leave that field knowing they have lost.”

Oh, damn. So, that’s how it is.

“We all know each other so well, maybe a little too well,” fourth-year NDSU head coach Matt Entz says with a laugh. “We recruit the same kids. So many of the guys I tried to sign are down there, and so many they tried to sign are up here. Years ago, I almost went to work for Coach Stig at SDSU. Imagine how different our worlds would be then, right? That’s how close this all is.”

“I think the measure of a true rivalry probably comes with the question how much do people talk about the game,” says John Stiegelmeier, aka “Coach Stig.”

Stiegelmeier is in his 26th season as head coach and his 36th straight year on the staff. The Selby, South Dakota, native is also a South Dakota State alum. “Here in Brookings, they talk about this game 365 days out of the year. It wasn’t always that way. But now, that is most definitely the case.”

To be clear, this game has roots that reach back nearly 120 years, to the first meeting of Dakota Agricultural College and North Dakota Agricultural College in 1903. They have played 112 times in all, and since 1919 the only years missing are the three years lost to World War II. But during the first century of their series, the matchup was largely venom-less, lukewarm at best, as each school’s biggest rival was the school featuring its name minus the “State”: the University of North Dakota Fighting Hawks and the University of South Dakota Coyotes.

As the 21st century rolled around, both NDSU and SDSU started looking at moves from NCAA Division II to what was then known as I-AA, now called FCS.

“What we realized very quickly was that if we were going to make that jump, we needed a partner to do it,” Stiegelmeier says. “We both agreed that we would do it together. So, we met at the border and shook on it.”

It is a moment that is so Dakotas it sounds completely made up, an image taken straight out of a “Yellowstone” script. A pair of college football coaches, a pair of athletic directors and a couple of university administrators, standing along an imaginary line on the Great Plains, leaning into the wind as they leaned in to shake hands.

“We stood right by one of the Dakota Markers when we had that meeting,” Stiegelmeier recalls. “So, when we decided this game needed a name and a trophy, the Dakota Marker, that was the only way to go.”

The Dakota Territory was incorporated in 1861, the northernmost section of land acquired by the United States in the Louisiana Purchase. As the 20th century approached, the territory was earmarked for statehood but was considered too large as it was, so it was split in half, north and south. There were, of course, vicious politics and infighting and resistance from both sides, but ultimately, on Nov. 2, 1889, President Benjamin Harrison signed the papers that made North and South Dakota separate states. He had been warned that the two states were already talking 19th century smack over which one of them would become a state first, so he requested that the documents be shuffled and their titles covered so that no one could accuse him of playing favorites.

The line chosen to split the states ran along the seventh standard parallel, found at 45°56’07” north latitude. But someone needed to show everyone where the border actually was. On Sept. 19, 1891, Charles Bates of Yankton, South Dakota, began that process, armed with surveyor’s tools and guided largely by the North Star above the prairie. A team of nine men located the tristate corner where Minnesota bumps up against both Dakotas. They dug a posthole and filled it with a 7-foot-long, 800-pound quartzite marker, carried over the plains and buried halfway. The part of the marker above ground was marked on its 10-inch-wide sides with “ND” to the north, “SD” to the south and mileage from the eastern starting point next to an “M.” This first marker included an added “IN.MT” for “initial monument.”

From there, Bates and his crew marched 360.57 miles, from Minnesota to Montana. It took a year. They battled pits of snakes, clouds of mosquitoes and a two-day snowstorm that covered their work under a 30-foot snowdrift. They spiked a total 720 markers into the earth, what Bates called “silent sentinels on the prairie” that were delivered by steamboat and train to be literally picked up by his team.

Over the next century, the Dakota Markers faded out of the memories of most Dakotans. Some sank into the ground under their own weight. Others were vandalized or dug up by angry farmers and Native Americans. Many were mistaken as fence posts or cemetery headstones. Eventually, volunteer groups were formed to try to save the markers that remained, but hundreds are likely gone forever.

A drive earlier this week to find the initial monument was met with curious questions from twilight combine operators and one woman who came out onto the front porch of her farmhouse to shout: “Keep going! The marker is down this path! I can’t believe you made it all the way out here in that car!”

“People who had lived here their entire lives had no idea what a Dakota Marker was, and this is coming from a guy who was born and raised here,” Stiegelmeier said. “Now they do. Thanks to a football game.”

Not just a football game. Maybe the grandest, grittiest football game played this season or any other, no matter what NCAA designation it might be played under. Neighbors. Frenemies. Divided by a line they must cross each fall in order to bring home a marker designed to show us where that line is. But connected by a Dakota DNA that is as unique as that trophy they fight for.

And we do mean fight.

“When this game started under the new idea of the Dakota Marker, we were all in this together, right? Kumbaya, let’s move up together and this will be fun. That lasted less than one game.” Jimmy Rogers speaks of the 2004 contest, in which the Jacks threw a missile of a 22-yard TD pass with 39 seconds to go, winning the initial Marker 24-21. “From then until now, they know we mean business and we know they mean business. To do what we want to do, win a national championship, we have to beat them. Honestly, to me, we have to beat them anyway. I don’t care if we’re 0-6 going into kickoff.”

“I’ve been a part of 18 of these and my record is 11-7,” Roehl says. “I think you know now that I recall the losses more than the wins. I recall the fact that they have won the Marker two straight.”

A vein starts to rise from Roehl’s neck as he talks. The same happens to Rogers. They both start recalling old games. The 2-point conversion for SDSU at the buzzer in ’08. Easton Stick in ’18. Wentz. College GameDay at both schools. Those four playoff games.

Roehl and Rogers both sit up straight. Both get tears in their eyes. Both of their faces turn a light shade of red. The hue is unmistakable. It’s the color of quartzite.

Continue Reading

Sports

Rays to play 2025 season at Yankees’ spring field

Published

on

By

Rays to play 2025 season at Yankees' spring field

ST. PETERSBURG, Fla. — The Tampa Bay Rays will play their 2025 home games at the New York Yankees‘ nearby spring training ballpark amid uncertainty about the future of hurricane-damaged Tropicana Field, Rays executives told The Associated Press.

Stuart Sternberg, the Rays’ principal owner, said in an interview that Steinbrenner Field in Tampa is the best fit for the team and its fanbase. At about 11,000 seats, it’s also the largest spring training site in Florida.

“It is singularly the best opportunity for our fans to experience 81 games of major league Rays baseball,” Sternberg said. “As difficult as it is to get any of these stadiums up to major league standards, it was the least difficult. You’re going to see Major League Baseball in a small environment.”

Baseball commissioner Rob Manfred said the Rays-Yankees deal is good for the sport and the Tampa Bay region.

“This outcome meets Major League Baseball’s goals that Rays fans will see their team play next season in their home market and that their players can remain home without disruption to their families,” Manfred said in a news release.

The Rays’ home since 1998, the domed Tropicana Field in St. Petersburg, was hit hard by Hurricane Milton on Oct. 9, with most of its fabric roof shredded and water damage inside. The city of St. Petersburg, which owns the Trop, released an assessment of the damage and repair needs that estimated the cost at $55.7 million if it is to be ready for the start of the 2026 season.

The work would have to be approved by the city council, which earlier this year voted for a new $1.3 billion, 30,000-seat stadium to replace Tropicana Field beginning in 2028. The new stadium is part of a much larger urban revitalization project known as the Historic Gas Plant District — named for the Black community that once occupied the 86 acres that includes retail, hotels, office space, a Black history museum, restaurants and bars.

Amid the uncertainty, the Rays know one thing: they will play 2025 in a smallish, outdoor ballpark operated by one of their main American League East rivals. A ballpark with a facade mimicking that of Yankee Stadium in New York and festooned with plaques of Yankees players whose numbers have been retired.

Brian Auld, the Rays co-president, said in an interview that Tampa Bay has to be ready for a regular-season MLB game March 27 against the Colorado Rockies, just three days after the Yankees break training camp.

“There will be a ton of work toward putting in our brand,” Auld said. “The term we like to use for that is “Rayful’ into Steinbrenner Field.”

It will also come with weather challenges in the hot, rainy Florida summer climate the Rays didn’t worry about in their domed ballpark. The Rays averaged about 16,500 fans per game during the 2024 season.

The Yankees will receive about $15 million in revenue for hosting the Rays, a person familiar with the arrangement told The Associated Press, speaking on condition of anonymity because that detail was not announced. The money won’t come from Tampa Bay but from other sources, such as insurance.

Once known as Legends Field, Steinbrenner Field opened in 1996 on Tampa’s north side. It is named for longtime Yankees owner George Steinbrenner, who ran a shipbuilding company in Tampa and died at his home there in 2010. One of his sons, Yankees executive Hal Steinbrenner, was instrumental in getting the deal done with the Rays, Sternberg said.

“This is a heavy lift for the Yankees. This is a huge ask by us and baseball of the Yankees,” Sternberg said. “[Hal Steinbrenner] did not waver for one second. I couldn’t have been more grateful.”

Hal Steinbrenner said in a news release that the Yankees are “happy to extend our hand to the Rays” and noted that the team and his family have “deep roots” in the Tampa Bay area.

“In times like these, rivalry and competition take a back seat to doing what’s right for our community, which is continuing to help families and businesses rebound from the devastation caused by Hurricanes Helene and Milton,” he said.

The Tampa Tarpons, one of the Yankees’ minor league teams, play their home games at Steinbrenner Field during the summer. They will use baseball diamonds elsewhere in the training complex this season.

It’s not the first time a big league team will host regular-season games in a spring training stadium. The Toronto Blue Jays played part of the 2021 season at their facility in Dunedin because of Canadian government restrictions during the COVID-19 pandemic.

Continue Reading

Sports

4-star QB 6th to decommit from FSU’s 2025 class

Published

on

By

4-star QB 6th to decommit from FSU's 2025 class

Four-star Florida State quarterback pledge Tramell Jones pulled his commitment from the Seminoles Thursday morning, marking the sixth departure from Mike Norvell’s 2025 class across the program’s 1-9 start to the regular season this fall.

Jones, a 6-foot, 190-pound passer from Jacksonville, Florida, is ESPN’s ninth-ranked dual-threat quarterback prospect in the 2025 cycle. The longest-tenured member of Florida State’s 2025 class, Jones’ decommitment arrives five days after Norvell fired three members of his coaching staff on Sunday following the program’s 52-3 defeat at Notre Dame, headlined by the exit of offensive coordinator and offensive line coach Alex Atkins.

Jones’ move represents the latest blow to a Seminoles’ class that’s taken a series of hits this fall as Florida State has followed its 13-1 in 2023 with a disastrous 2024 campaign. A previous lynchpin in the program’s 2025 class, Jones follows ESPN 300 prospects Myron Charles, Javion Hilson, Malik Clark, Daylan McCutcheon and CJ Wiley among the top recruits who have left Norvell’s incoming class since the Seminoles’ Aug. 24 season opener. Jones’ exit leaves Florida State with 12 prospects left committed in 2025, including five ESPN 300 pledges led by five-star offensive tackle Solomon Thomas, ESPN’s No. 13 overall prospect in the 2025 cycle.

Florida State sat at No. 37 in ESPN’s class rankings in 2025 prior to Jones’ decommitment Thursday with further movement expected out of the Seminoles’ class in the coming weeks.

With his recruitment reopened, Jones stands as one of the top uncommitted quarterbacks in the final weeks of the 2025 cycle. A four-year starter at Florida’s Mandarin High School, Florida has remained in contact with Jones this fall, and sources within the Gators’ program are optimistic that Florida will ultimately land Jones in the final weeks of the cycle following the school’s decision to keep Billy Napier as head coach beyond 2024.

Florida is set to host a series of high-profile recruits when the Gators host LSU at 3:30 p.m. on ABC Saturday afternoon. Florida State is off in Week 12 before a Nov. 23 visit from Charleston Southern.

Continue Reading

Sports

Even in death, college football fans want to be at their favorite stadiums

Published

on

By

Even in death, college football fans want to be at their favorite stadiums

BARBARA WEITZ SAT at a Nebraska Board of Regents meeting over the summer, when thinking about ways to generate revenue to help mitigate recent university budget cuts, she blurted out an idea.

Without much thought or research, Weitz wondered aloud whether passionate Nebraska fans would pay money to have cremated remains stored in a columbarium, a standalone structure with cubbies that house said remains. Even better, with a grass field set to be installed at Memorial Stadium in 2026, what if that columbarium was built underneath the football field as part of the renovations?

“Then grandma or grandpa or sister or brother could be a Husker supporter forever,” Weitz said.

Her fellow regents laughed her out of the room. Nobody liked the thought of games being played above a de facto burial ground. The idea was impractical, anyway. If the columbarium was built under the field, they would also have to construct an underground entrance for people to be able to visit, and how exactly would that work?

Feeling discouraged, Weitz went about her other work. But the meeting was public, and soon a newspaper article published her idea. Before long, the emails started coming in. One came from a casket company in Kansas interested in helping make the hypothetical columbarium. Another came from a company in Ireland claiming to have done a similar thing already, for a rugby and soccer club in the United Kingdom. She also learned someone was trying to build a columbarium in South Carolina, near Williams-Brice Stadium, but plans had stalled.

The idea gained enough traction that at a recent football game, someone stopped Weitz and said that if the columbarium became a reality, she would pay to have her husband’s ashes housed there. Weitz got plenty of emails from Cornhusker fans to the same effect.

When she blurted out her idea, Weitz did not know just how often fans spread the cremated remains of their friends and loved ones at college football venues across the country, mostly without permission. Choice Mutual, a company that offers insurance policies to cover end-of-life expenses, conducted a survey that asked Americans where they would want their ashes spread if they choose to be cremated.

The survey, published in July, listed the top choice in all 50 states. Sports venues topped the list in 11, including college football stadiums in Arkansas, Idaho, Michigan, North Carolina, Oklahoma and Wisconsin. Anthony Martin, owner and CEO of Choice Mutual, said in an email, “We were definitely surprised by the prevalence of sporting venues as the target. We assumed some sporting venues would show up, but not this many.”

“Let’s face it. Fan is short for fanatic,” said Chris Gerbasi, who helped spread the remains of his good friend, John Burr, at Michigan Stadium in 2005. “He was a diehard, no pun intended. It made perfect sense for him to want his ashes to be on the field. He would have laughed his ass off at us being able to achieve that.”


MOST SCHOOLS HAVE strict rules prohibiting the spreading of ashes onto playing surfaces, both to preserve the grass and also simply to limit trespassing. But when you are determined to complete a final wish, you simply find a way.

Like Gerbasi did. He and three others set out for Michigan Stadium in July 2005 to honor Burr, who died following complications from an accident at age 41. Gerbasi and Burr attended Michigan together in the 1980s and went to the 1998 Rose Bowl that clinched a national championship season for the Wolverines.

When Gerbasi was a student, Michigan Stadium was easy to enter. But when he and his companions arrived that summer night, they encountered one locked gate after another. They walked around the stadium, until, Gerbasi says, “It was almost like seeing the light.”

A bright light was coming from the east side of the stadium, where renovations were underway. They saw a way in, down the ramp where players walk from the locker room to the field, and made their way to the 50-yard line.

“I don’t get excited about too many things, but it was awe-inspiring for the four of us to be standing on the 50-yard line in an empty Michigan Stadium,” Gerbasi said.

Burr’s brother handed Gerbasi a bag with the ashes.

“There just happened to be a little gust of wind, and I kind of twirled the bag in the air a little bit, and all the ashes flew out, and the wind caught ’em, and they flew down the field,” Gerbasi said. “Looking back on it now, it was cool as hell. It was like somebody opened up this door for us.”

Parker Hollowell had a similar idea for his dad, Dean Hollowell, who died in 2015 following a car accident at age 72. Dean was a lifelong Ole Miss fan and took Parker to games his entire life. When his stepmom said his father was going to be cremated, Parker knew what he needed to do.

He waited until dusk one night in August that year and drove to Vaught-Hemingway Stadium, the place where he and his dad shared so many memories. A new field was being put in, and though workers were still around, nobody said a word to Hollowell and a friend as they made their way to the 50-yard line.

Hollowell said a few words to his dad as he spread the ashes, while his friend took a video.

“I thought it was a tribute to my dad,” Hollowell said. “That was our life, that’s what we’ve done as a family. Period. Now my dad’s got a 50-yard line seat. He’s right there with me when I go to games. I don’t see anything wrong with it.”

Having done it for his dad, Hollowell now has his final resting spot picked out.

“I am going to ask my son to put me in the end zone. Where Tre Harris scored on LSU [last year],” Hollowell said.

Ann and her husband, Johnny, had a similar conversation at their dinner table in North Carolina years ago. Ann, who asked that her last name not be used, cannot remember how they got on the topic, but they started discussing where they wanted to be buried.

Johnny asked to be cremated and have his ashes scattered in three spots. First, the beach. Easy enough.

Second, Carter-Finley Stadium, home to his beloved NC State Wolfpack. Slightly more challenging, but OK.

And, if possible, Kenan Stadium, home to North Carolina, as friend Theo Manos recalled, “so he could haunt those MFers.”

“I thought he was kidding,” Ann said. “But then I realized he was serious.”

Ann figured she would have time to plan it all out. But Johnny died unexpectedly at age 52 in 2007. A “total shock,” Ann said.

She decided she would sprinkle his ashes in their longtime tailgating spot outside Carter-Finley, a picturesque area filled with trees. They had a tight-knit tailgating group — some had been friends with Johnny since kindergarten. On the day they spread his ashes, they formed a circle, said a few prayers and then Ann placed his remains near a spruce tree.

The spot has become a resting place for several others, including their son, Allen, who died in 2017. “I thought that was a good sentimental thing to do,” Ann said. Johnny’s sister, Nancy, also has some of her remains there, as well as another tailgater in their group.

She noted the spruce tree “shot up out of nowhere” after placing Johnny there. But last year, NC State cut down many trees in their tailgating area — including that beloved spruce. Ann still brings flowers to every home game and places them on the spot where she sprinkled the remains of her husband and son. The group pours a drink on the ashes and says, “Here’s to you, Johnny.”

As for Kenan Stadium, let’s just say Johnny did make his way onto the field. How and when, well, Ann says that must remain a mystery. But it should be noted NC State is 6-2 in Chapel Hill since Johnny died.


WHEN JASON FAIRES was in his first year as Oklahoma director of athletic fields and grounds in 2019, he spotted a man in the south end zone holding a paper grocery bag, without gloves on, taking handfuls of something unidentifiable and dropping it on the ground.

“I start to lose it, and ‘I’m like, ‘What the hell are you doing?'” said Faires, now golf course superintendent at Dornick Hills Country Club in Ardmore, Oklahoma. “He goes, ‘This is my dad. Just spreading his ashes out here, like he wanted me to.’ I’m like, ‘Did you get permission to do this?’ He didn’t think he needed permission, and he’s just dropping clumps. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen ashes. It’s not just ashes, it’s frickin’ bone and everything.

“So out of respect for him, I said, ‘OK.’ As soon as he left, I had to go out there and kick him around, spread him out. I felt weird doing that. I started telling that story at a meeting, and they’re like, ‘Oh yeah, that happens a lot.'”

Plenty of field managers across conferences have stories about encountering fans evading gates, waiting out security personnel or downright trespassing in their quest to make it onto the field to spread ashes. While it is not technically illegal to scatter ashes, most states require permission be granted if remains will be spread on private property — like football stadiums — or on public property or national parks. Some states require a permit to spread ashes in public areas.

“When I worked at LSU in 2007, it was about 2:30 in the morning after the Virginia Tech game and we saw someone leaning up against the goal post,” said Brandon Hardin, now the superintendent of sports turf at Mississippi State. “We were like, ‘Hey, what’s this guy doing?’ He had a book in his hand, and he opened it and dumped ashes out on the ground and had his moment. Then he turned around and walked off. Never saw him again.”

At Texas A&M, too, where Nick McKenna serves as assistant athletics director of sports fields. He recalled the time the Yell Leaders at Texas A&M had a former leader’s ashes spread at Kyle Field without permission, upsetting their longtime facility manager.

“So he had the head field manager go out, vacuum them up, put them in a jar, and he took them to the Yell Leader and said, “Y’all left someone out there on the field the other day. Just wanted to return him to you,” McKenna said.

Another time, someone had spread ashes in the outfield before a baseball game.

“I remember having to talk with our center fielder because there was this cloud ring of remains,” McKenna said. “He was like, what in the heck? I was like, ‘You’re out there basically playing in a ring of death.'”

As all three turf managers explained, fans are unaware of how much goes into caring for the fields across all their athletics venues. That includes resodding the fields after a set amount of time. Oklahoma, for example, resodded the field last summer. Texas A&M does it every 12 to 15 years.

“So the majority of these relatives who have been spread on that field are down on the left side of the driving range at the OU golf course because that’s where all the material goes when we redo the field,” Faires said. “You don’t say that or anything, but you kind of feel bad for them.”

When grounds crews see ashes that have been left on a field, they quickly work to limit the damage. The ashes are either vacuumed up or blown around with a backpack blower. Some will run water through them to flush them through. What grounds crews want to avoid is their sophisticated and expensive lawn mowers picking up bone fragments, which could damage the equipment.

Hardin says he has gained a newfound perspective on spreading ashes to fulfill a loved ones’ request, after he did it for his dad last November in the Arkansas mountains.

“It’s very special to the person that does it, so we try to be very understanding,” Hardin said. “We tell people no, and then they still find a way to do it, because it was somebody’s last wish. People need that closure.

“It’s not going to hurt the grass, but if you ask certain people within organizations or schools, it gives you the heebie-jeebies knowing that it’s there and visible.”

That makes the columbarium idea all the more appealing to Weitz. She has tried to brainstorm other ideas than having it under the field — could it be outside the stadium? In the tunnel leading to the field?

“These responses I got after the meeting said to me this is creative and there are ways to do these things,” Weitz said. “So it really encouraged me in a lot of ways, but I haven’t come up with any new ideas.”

Putting a columbarium under the field might not be practical, but burial grounds for mascots do exist both inside and outside stadiums. In fact, Mex, a brindle bulldog who was Oklahoma’s mascot in the 1920s, is buried in a casket under the football stadium. Bully I, Mississippi State’s first mascot, is buried on stadium grounds. Other Bully mascots have had their ashes spread on the football field.

Texas A&M has a burial ground for its Reveille mascots on the north end of Kyle Field. A statue of the SMU mascot, Peruna, is on the burial site of Peruna I outside Ford Stadium. Sanford Stadium has a mausoleum dedicated to its UGA mascots.

McKenna remembers reading about Weitz and her columbarium idea over the summer.

“I don’t know where you would put it logistically, but as somebody who’s encountered people spreading ashes and understands how often it happens and the nuances, it’s not the worst idea in the world,” he said.

Weitz will keep thinking about it. Others will keep finding ways to honor their loved ones and their passion for college football. Loved ones such as Fred “The Head” Miller, who once asked former Florida State alumni association president Jim Melton if his head could be buried underneath the Seminole logo at midfield.

“True story,” Melton says.

Miller played fullback at Florida State from 1973-76 and then became the ultimate super fan — painting the Seminoles logo on his bald head for every home game, beginning in 1981. Hence his nickname.

He died in 1992 at age 38 of a heart attack and was cremated. Miller asked his family to scatter his ashes at Doak Campbell Stadium.

Continue Reading

Trending