Duty, Honor, Country: A Scandurro Story

BY TIM SCANDURRO

West Point, like New Orleans, is a special place bathed in a rich history.  Before it was the United States Military Academy, then-General George Washington called it “the most strategic location in America.”  The British agreed.  Benedict Arnold tried to surrender the fortifications at West Point to them in 1780, but his gambit failed.   In 1802, Thomas Jefferson authorized the formation of the United States Military Academy at West Point, overcoming his misgivings about the creation of a professional officer class and giving birth to a long and distinguished list of alumni.   Think about the giant figures in our nation’s history who came of age on the banks of the Hudson.

Grant and Sherman.   Lee and Jackson.  George Armstrong Custer.  ‘Black Jack’ Pershing. Douglas MacArthur.  George Patton.  Eisenhower.  Matt Ridgway.   Hal Moore.  Norman Schwarzkopf.

And so many more.   The Medal of Honor, our country’s highest military decoration for extraordinary heroism in combat, has been awarded 77 times to Academy graduates.

This particular road game is always about more than just football for me.  It’s a pilgrimage.  This Saturday will be my fifth game there, and they have all been memorable.  I remember getting lost and asking a cadet for directions one year.  He gave me the kind of detailed directions that could only come from a military man, and then when he was finished he said “Beat Tulane, sir.”  Since they all yell “Beat Navy” at the end of their alma mater, I took it as a sign of respect.

So is their traditional pregame dress parade on “The Plain,” where they faithfully play the fight song of their opponent after playing their own.

But my favorite memory was when a couple of boisterous Cadets jumped the wall at Army’s Homecoming one year and tackled our ‘Gumby’ mascot.  It was all in good fun, but a middle-aged man in street clothes who saw it didn’t think so.  He hopped the wall in the end zone and put the lightest of touches on the elbows of the two cadets.  I don’t know what his rank was but I know it was high enough that the two cadets immediately slumped their shoulders and looked at the ground, while an M.P. was summoned.  I’m not sure how many toilets those two boys cleaned in the ensuing weeks, but my guess is it was a lot.

I have often thought about that incident.  It said everything about the Academy, its code of honor and the ‘long gray line’ of graduates who enforce it.  Whenever you are feeling like this country has lost its way, or that the young people in it are not equipped to take the mantle from the old guard and preserve and defend this great country, I recommend you take a trip to West Point.  You will be rejuvenated.  Your faith in who we are as a collective people, and your confidence that we will find a way to advance and prosper, will be restored.  This country still turns out young men and women of exemplary character, courage, and patriotism.   Interacting with them once every few years on a fall Saturday is always a privilege.

Tulane is 14-10-1 all-time against Army, but this Saturday is a rubber game for me.  In my four previous trips up there, we are 2-2.  Here’s that history:

October 21, 2000:  I went up with my Dad and brothers.  I had made reservations far in advance at the Hotel Thayer, the only hotel on the Academy grounds and a legendary establishment.  My excitement faded when the hotel contacted me a few weeks before game day to tell me there were unexpected renovations to my part of the hotel and they would have to house us at a motel near campus. 

We lost 21-17 in a game that saw the debut, in relief, of freshman quarterback J.P. Losman.  He threw a TD pass and ran for 82 yards in the second half. In the Hotel Thayer bar afterwards, an old West Pointer told me that ‘the Losman kid’ was going to be a great quarterback for us.  He also told me that there were no renovations to the hotel, and that I had been bounced by somebody who outranked me and had commandeered my room. It was my first introduction to the fact that we never get any calls when we play Army up there.

September 20, 2003:  In a resounding vindication of the old soldier’s prediction three years earlier in the hotel bar, senior J.P. Losman threw for 350 yards and three touchdowns and we raced past Army, 50-33.

October 6, 2007:  We blew a 10 point fourth quarter lead and suffered a heartbreaking 20-17 overtime loss, courtesy of a game-tying four play, 80 yard drive by Army and a 36 yard Hail Mary touchdown pass on the last play of regulation.  I had a great angle and the receiver was out of bounds when he caught it.  This was also the game when we had a field goal taken off the board late in the game because the referee said our holder used “an illegal piece of linoleum” to help spot the ball.  Despite all that drama, what I will always remember most about that night were the heroics of Matt Forte, who put the team on his back with a 32 carry, 202 yard performance when Army knew he was our only weapon.  Talk about getting carried out on your shield.  What a warrior.

October 5, 2019:  Like the 2003 game, this one featured too much Tulane offense for Army to keep up.  We won 42-33 behind a Will Hall offense that day featuring Darius Bradwell, Corey Dauphine and Justin McMillan.  After the game we took a ferry back down the Hudson River to Manhattan, arriving to see the Statue of Liberty and the city skyline as the sun was setting.  Unforgettable. 

This coming  Saturday the pilgrimage resumes.  The Hudson Valley will be in the early stages of its scarlet and gold transformation, and the weather should be perfect.  I am grateful for the opportunity that our football team has this Saturday, and grateful personally for the opportunity to visit West Point once again.  Because who knows what the future holds in this series, or in any of our own lives.  Many of us can relate more and more with each passing year to the final speech General MacArthur gave to the Corps of Cadets in the Mess Hall at West Point in 1962, the year I was born:

The shadows are lengthening for me. The twilight is here. My days of old have vanished …. In my dreams I hear again the crash of guns, the rattle of musketry, the strange, mournful mutter of the battlefield. But in the evening of my memory I come back to West Point. Always there echoes and re-echoes: Duty, Honor, Country.

Roll Wave.  And, starting Sunday, Go Army.