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May 27, 2019
AT 5-10 (AND A HALF!), DUNIGAN’S A BIG DEAL
(Ran originally in the May 26, 2019 editions of The Times and The News-Star.)
The story is not so much about sports as it is about the reality of competition in the world and being told you can’t do something and doing all you can to get it done anyway.
Harder than it looks.
Matt Dunigan is a guy still doing all he can. At 5-9ish, he made a lot of his “luck” at Louisiana Tech and in the Canadian Football League playing quarterback, a position that is usually easier if you’re tall so you can do things like, well, see.
“Matty,” as his friends call him, made himself as tall as he needed to be. Because of it, he’ll be a part of the Class of 2019 inductees into the Louisiana Sports Hall of Fame, a group that includes Peyton Manning and Les Miles and other assorted studs. On his stage, Dunigan was as prolific as any of them.
Induction ceremonies are Saturday June 8 in Natchitoches. Sold out, as usual. Go to LaSportsHall.com for more information on the class and the weekend of activities. Plenty of events are not sold out. The induction ceremony will air live on Cox, 7-9:30, that Saturday night and will re-air several times.
The class also includes the guy who called Dunigan’s games when he was an All-American quarterback at Louisiana Tech in 1983, the Voice of the Bulldogs Dave Nitz, winner of the Hall’s Distinguished Service Award in Sports Journalism and Tech’s play-by-play man for the past 45 seasons. The two went into the Tech Athletics Hall of Fame in 2010. It’s easy to tell them apart: Dave’s taller.
The only child of a steel mill worker, a batboy on his dad’s baseball teams beginning at age 3 and a kid who loved ball, Dave would shoot hoops alone and pretend he was whoever the stars were on the West Virginia Mountaineers basketball teams. It was his first play-by-play experience; he literally called his own shots.
And he called Dunigan’s.
Here’s the thing about Matty. What made him an All-American and a two-time Grey Cup champ and Hall of Famer in the CFL was his talent and determination to get all he could out of himself.
“That’s how he led,” said Jimmy Hand.
“Do you know anyone more competitive?” said Trey Junkin.
“He’s a very emotional guy; I like people like that,” said Lyn Bankston. “I love people who are passionate about what they believe in and what they’re doing. That’s his true feelings, and in college, we bought into that. He was just so authentic. Just the way he is. We wanted him to succeed so bad that we felt we had to do everything we could not to let him down.”
All those guys were his Tech teammates and all will be in the house when he’s inducted.
“It’s the Hall of Fame Trifecta for me,” said Hand, who was in Hamilton, Canada when Matty was inducted into the CFL Hall of Fame and in Ruston when he went into Tech’s.
Matt’s also a member of the Lake Highlands (Texas) High School Hall of Fame, the Gridiron Greats Hall of Fame, and the Winnipeg Blue Bombers Hall of Fame.
“We’re running out of Halls of Fame,” Hand said, “for Matty.”
“First one in the meeting room,” said Larry Dauterive, Matty’s position coach and offensive coordinator at Tech, “and the last one to leave. So fun to coach him. He was a linebacker playing quarterback.”
He broke most of Terry Bradshaw’s records at Tech, but the NFL passed on him because of his size, which is 5-9, but which he’ll tell you is “5-10-and-a-half!” exclamation point included.
Competitive.
He was actually ahead of his time. Today the NFL looks for his prototype, quick, strong-armed and accurate guys like Russell Wilson (5-11), Drew Brees (6-0), Kyler Murray (5-10), and Baker Mayfield (6-1).
The NFL game has changed; Matt has not. He’s still fit, still the most prepared broadcaster in Canada and still popular on his TV show, Road Grill.
“If he walked into the locker room today,” Junkin said, “they’d probably put him at fullback.”
“He’ll outwork you,” Bankston said, “because he wants to be the best. No matter what anybody says, he decides he’s going to be the best, and he’ll do what needs to be done to get there.”
“One day the whole team’s running the bleachers at Aillet Stadium, and Matt was leading the way,” Hand said. “Way out in front. Just one trip is brutal. We finished and one of the coaches said that wasn’t good enough, to do it again. Matt takes off, running the second one as hard as the first. There were still some stragglers, but I think that because of Matt, because of his effort, we didn’t have to do it again. Me and Trey had to carry him in. He’d given all he had.
“The ultimate leader.”
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May 26, 2019
THE GREEN FIELDS OF THE MIND
Experienced a lot of endings lately.
Each team in high school or college—and now in general in the pros—has a life expectancy of one year. That team will always be a team; just because you run out of games doesn’t mean you are no longer a team. You are forever bound, can have reunions, vacation together, but…
But there are no more games to play.
I’m on a Group Me thread with Louisiana Tech’s baseball team; the Bulldogs’ season ended this week in the Conference USA Tournament. After the final game, the list game out late last week for individual post-season meetings, and then this.
“Tanner Huddleston has left the group,” popped up on my phone.
Dang.
And then,
“Logan Robbins has left the group…”
“Mason Robinson has left the group…”
And on like that.
Seniors. 12 of them on that team. And one by one…
Seeya.
The finality of ball, a long road that ends so suddenly, on a groundout or a pop up, is what gets you. It’s not over and then…it’s over.
No more games to play.
Long before he was Commissioner of Major League Baseball, the late A. Bartlett Giamatti was a 40-year-old lifelong Red Sox fan who suffered through the final game of the 1977 regular season, a loss to Baltimore. A win would have extended Boston’s season.
With nothing much to do one afternoon and the season over, he wrote an essay he titled Green Fields of the Mind. It eventually ran in the Yale Alumni Magazine—mainly because he’d recently been named the University’s president.
It’s become popular through the years. Each year when Boston’s season ends, the team’s radio broadcasters read a piece of it on-air. Look it up sometime. It might help, if your season is over.
“It breaks your heart,” Giamatti wrote. “It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone.”
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