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McClain: Anniversary of Oilers' departure stirs special memories
By John McClain
December 15, 2016 Updated: December 15, 2016 8:10am
Since Thursday was the 20th anniversary of the Oilers' last game in Houston, I would like to share with you two special memories of that unforgettable time in our city's sports history.
I will never forget what I witnessed after their last game in Houston on Dec. 15, 1996 and after their last practice in June 1997.
Because owner Bud Adams was negotiating to buy out the last year of their lease, they were unable to move to Nashville and become the Tennessee Oilers until the third week of June in 1997.
Before we get to that last practice, let me tell you about what transpired after their last game in the Astrodome.
The Oilers played Cincinnati. Only 15,131 - the smallest crowd in Houston history - showed up and the Oilers lost 21-13.
Rather than go to the Oilers' dressing room to interview coach Jeff Fisher and his players, I went where I had never been - outside the Astrodome where Adams' limousine would exit.
What an ugly scene. Adams and his family came out, and fans surrounded his limo, throwing anything they could carry - beer, food, rocks, dirt - anything they could get their hands on.
Security was of little help because there were just too many irate fans pelting the limo, jumping on the hood and trunk, banging on the windows and shouting every obscenity they could think of. It was repulsive but understandable considering the circumstances.
Adams' limo moved slowly through the crowd until it could get up enough speed to finally escape and head for the exit to Fannin.
At that time, I wondered what must it feel like to be Bud Adams, to experience something like that and be so hated in your hometown, where you had done business since World War II?
Now, fast forward six months later. After an offseason in limbo, the Oilers knew they were moving to Nashville.
Their dilapidated practice facility was situated off Holly Hall and 288. It resembled a morgue that offseason because the players and coaches knew their fate.
At their last practice in June, there was a lot of local media, as well as reporters from Tennessee who had been covering the team.
As I watched the team practicing for the last time in Houston, I thought back to so many memorable moments at that facility.
Among them:
The saddest was the last day at practice, when reporters stood on the field interviewing and just talking with players. No one was in a hurry to leave.
Finally, every player had gone into the facility except the greatest one who also happened to be the most outspoken against the move.
When we were through interviewing guard Bruce Matthews, who was finishing his 14th season of a 19-year career that would enable him to be enshrined in the Pro Football Hall of Fame, he headed for the dressing room.
Right before he went through the door, with his back to us, Matthews carried his helmet in his right hand and raised his left arm to wave goodbye - signaling the end of pro football in Houston.
I will never forget that moment. While I stood there, I got this nauseating feeling: It's over. The Oilers are gone. The Dome is a dump. Houston will be without pro football for the first time since 1959. The NFL is not coming back to our city.
Not now. Not ever. Never.
And then Bob McNair came along.
By John McClain
December 15, 2016 Updated: December 15, 2016 8:10am
Since Thursday was the 20th anniversary of the Oilers' last game in Houston, I would like to share with you two special memories of that unforgettable time in our city's sports history.
I will never forget what I witnessed after their last game in Houston on Dec. 15, 1996 and after their last practice in June 1997.
Because owner Bud Adams was negotiating to buy out the last year of their lease, they were unable to move to Nashville and become the Tennessee Oilers until the third week of June in 1997.
Before we get to that last practice, let me tell you about what transpired after their last game in the Astrodome.
The Oilers played Cincinnati. Only 15,131 - the smallest crowd in Houston history - showed up and the Oilers lost 21-13.
Rather than go to the Oilers' dressing room to interview coach Jeff Fisher and his players, I went where I had never been - outside the Astrodome where Adams' limousine would exit.
What an ugly scene. Adams and his family came out, and fans surrounded his limo, throwing anything they could carry - beer, food, rocks, dirt - anything they could get their hands on.
Security was of little help because there were just too many irate fans pelting the limo, jumping on the hood and trunk, banging on the windows and shouting every obscenity they could think of. It was repulsive but understandable considering the circumstances.
Adams' limo moved slowly through the crowd until it could get up enough speed to finally escape and head for the exit to Fannin.
At that time, I wondered what must it feel like to be Bud Adams, to experience something like that and be so hated in your hometown, where you had done business since World War II?
Now, fast forward six months later. After an offseason in limbo, the Oilers knew they were moving to Nashville.
Their dilapidated practice facility was situated off Holly Hall and 288. It resembled a morgue that offseason because the players and coaches knew their fate.
At their last practice in June, there was a lot of local media, as well as reporters from Tennessee who had been covering the team.
As I watched the team practicing for the last time in Houston, I thought back to so many memorable moments at that facility.
Among them:
- The 1987 strike when players stood in the street throwing rocks and eggs at busses bringing replacement players for three-a-day practices under coach Jerry Glanville.
- Practice being stopped so a stripper could come on the field on a golf cart to sing "Happy Birthday" to receivers coach Chris Palmer.
- Because of a prank by Greg Montgomery, the offensive linemen taking the punter's stuffed rabbit from his locker and stringing it up between the goal posts and blasting away with shotguns, leaving nothing but cotton floating through the air.
- During a rainstorm that stopped practice, running back Lorenzo White climbing on a tractor underneath a shed and singing the "Green Acres" theme song at the top of his lungs.
- During another rainstorm, guard Doug Dawson going on the rain-soaked field wearing nothing but his jock, running 20 yards and seeing how far he could slide while television cameras recorded him.
The saddest was the last day at practice, when reporters stood on the field interviewing and just talking with players. No one was in a hurry to leave.
Finally, every player had gone into the facility except the greatest one who also happened to be the most outspoken against the move.
When we were through interviewing guard Bruce Matthews, who was finishing his 14th season of a 19-year career that would enable him to be enshrined in the Pro Football Hall of Fame, he headed for the dressing room.
Right before he went through the door, with his back to us, Matthews carried his helmet in his right hand and raised his left arm to wave goodbye - signaling the end of pro football in Houston.
I will never forget that moment. While I stood there, I got this nauseating feeling: It's over. The Oilers are gone. The Dome is a dump. Houston will be without pro football for the first time since 1959. The NFL is not coming back to our city.
Not now. Not ever. Never.
And then Bob McNair came along.
