Although the down and distance is unknown, the magnitude of the moment is unchanged.
Looking to pass, the quarterback for an Arizona-based team donned in white dropped back in search of his receivers. As the defense approached and pressure mounted, the quarterback locked eyes with another player in his same color. Knowing that his teammate was open, he twirled the sweat-soaked ball off his fingertips. Through the air it soared, approaching the target with speed and precision. Perfectly executed, the ball reached the player just in time for him to reach out and secure the attempt with his fingertips. A play, beautifully executed, just as designed. The only problem; the pass wasn't thrown to one of the receivers on the field. It was thrown to a referee, who was also wearing white from head-to-toe. That referee was Lloyd Olds. Little did anyone know at the time, he had just made one of the most influential plays in all of sports history.
Every country, institution and person has history -- and has made history.
The gravity of that history, though, is weighted differently depending on the perspective of those whom it affects.
For the United States, Neil Armstrong's giant step for man was just that and more. A generation of children and adults inspired, a shining reassurance of American ingenuity; a sign of hope sent to a nation still healing from the loss of the man who promised the day would occur.
For the former Soviet Union, though, I imagine that July 20 is not a day of celebration or that of historic measure; in fact, it is likely the exact opposite. A day, just a day. A day that many of the past would like to be forgotten.
The same effect happens in sports every day. A major upset, for example, can stoke newfound energy for even the unlikeliest of campuses, while simultaneously evoking flames of despair on another.
Certainly, we have a few historic days of our own at Eastern Michigan. For many, March 14, 1996, is near the top of the list. That's the day that an Earl Boykins-led Eastern men's basketball team dismantled the all-mighty Duke Blue Devils in the first round of the NCAA Tournament, 75-60. From media guides to articles, to the graphics that reside in the men's hoops locker room, that day will live on forever for those who don the Green and White, and likely those who just can't stand the Cameron Crazies.
What say you, Coach Krzyzewski?
"That old expression, 'The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak,' I think it applies to my team," said the famous head man following the game.
However you interpret that quote, I can guarantee you this—that day, for Coach K, for Jeff Caple, Chris Collins, and the rest of Duke Nation, is anything but historic.
So, what's the point?
History is not always magnificent to everyone.
While that shocker over Duke will never be forgotten by Eastern fans, I can almost guarantee that it's rarely, if ever, discussed at dinner tables in Bellingham, Wash., Tokyo, Japan, or most of the places you could toss a dart on a world map.
Let's make one thing very, very clear: Moments like the one being described are absolutely historic, it would be downright disrespectful to say otherwise. Lives were changed, audiences were captivated, and dreams came true. The power of such an event should not be diminished, yet we can also not deny that history for some is not history for all.
History is and can be anything. And while every historic event, invention, or progression has value, there are very few examples of history that have the same value across the board, across different perspectives. History that accomplishes that is more than history, it is…revolutionary.
Very few moments actually change the course of history, or how an operation is conducted.
The steam engine, the world-wide-web, mobile phones, credit cards, even the Bible. These are all undisputed examples of revolutionary ideas and movements. Ones that have and will continue to change the course of history.
Examples of the sort exist in sports as well.
Jackie Robinson is to thank for one of the most revolutionary moments in all of athletics-related history. When he broke baseball's color barrier on April 15, 1947, as a member of the Brooklyn Dodgers, there was no denying (even by those select more than a few) that the tide of acceptance and inclusion within the Goliath that is sport was beginning to shift. Without Jackie, there is no Hammering Hank, no Willie Mays, no Ernie Banks.
While most schools have history, and plenty of it, few have been home to revolutions. Those people or ideas that change a game, the way we live, or the way we see something.
Eastern Michigan, though, does. And although you may not see the "Block E," everywhere, make no mistake about it – You've seen Eastern in nearly every basketball and football game you've ever watched. To understand, you have to step back to 1892.
Maybe it's ironic that in the same year that James Naismith's rules for basketball were published, a man who would change his game, and most sports, forever, was born.
That man is Lloyd Olds. Born and raised in Ypsilanti, he graduated from Michigan State Normal College (now Eastern Michigan University), before embarking on one of the most incredible careers of anyone to ever be associated with the University. Twenty-five years he dedicated to the Normal College track and cross country teams, building the program into the national contender that it still is today. A director of intramurals, a department head, service on 19 professional committees, and even an appointment to the US Olympic team as an assistant coach. Those are just some of the accomplishments that Olds reached during his 40-plus years of service to what is now Eastern Michigan University. While all of those feats are admirable, and yes, even historic, they don't come close to Olds' best contribution.
In addition to his other numerous avenues of commitment, Olds was also a referee for both football and basketball games. He started officiating basketball in 1914 while in his early 20's and went on to add football to his resume.
It was in his days as an official where Olds had a simple, yet revolutionary breakthrough. To best understand, you should hear it from Olds himself.
"The referee often looked very much like a player," Olds said, "so the lads often threw the ball to me or bounced it off my head."
For Olds, the tipping point came in 1920. Dressed in a standard white button-down dress shirt, affixed with a properly set bow-tie and newsboy-type hat, he took the field to officiate a football game. As had happened numerous times in the past, one of the participating teams was dressed in white, an occurrence that led to easy confusion between athletes and officials. The fact that Olds blended in was no different than what he was used to. What happened next, though, was new, even for the well-seasoned Olds.
Although the down and distance is unknown, the magnitude of the moment is unchanged.
A play, beautifully executed, just as designed. The only problem; the pass wasn't thrown to one of the receivers on the field. It was thrown to a referee, who was also wearing white from head-to-toe. That referee was Lloyd Olds. Little did anyone know at the time, he had just made one of the most influential plays in all of sports history.
While there is no catch in the statistics records for that play, its importance went far beyond that singular game. For in that moment, Olds would be confused as a player for the final time, and he was going to be sure of it.
"I had a knitting concern make up a special shirt for me," said Olds.
That concern was George Moe, owner of Ann Arbor's Moe's Sports Shop. So together, in Moe's small shop on University Avenue, the two concocted a uniform. One that had the collared characteristics consistent with the dress of the time, but that would also be successful in assuring no team would confuse him again, no matter the color they were wearing.
What emerged was a shirt. Two vastly different colors of fabric mended together in a way nobody had ever seen. Black and white together, in a vertically-striped pattern. Outrageous? Perhaps. Unconventional? Certainly.
Revolutionary? Most definitely.
"I took plenty of ribbing (criticism) when I first appeared in it (the shirt), but the idea caught on among both basketball and football officials," offered Olds.
That it did. Unconventional as it was, Olds pressed on with his unique apparel. Combined with his quick-rising ranks in the world of officials, which was even highlighted in a series of letters exchanged by Notre Dame's Newt Rockne and Michigan's Fielding Yost, his once loathed idea quickly progressed, and became the universal symbol of sports officiating.
More than 120 years later, the "zebra stripes," are as iconic to sports as even the most famous of uniforms. Whether it's the Old English D, the Yankee pinstripes, or thin blue stripe that lines Penn State's otherwise blank white helmet, few uniforms, in any sport, have stood the test of time as well as the one that Olds conceptualized out of necessity following that 1920 afternoon.
The third team in any game, his uniform bonds together the small group of individuals who are often the most criticized, but are ultimately responsible for facilitating the games we all love so dearly.
Never again since he debuted his creation has sport been the same. Whether you turn on basketball, football, or hockey, you're likely to see it. Bold, inventive, and effective; Olds will forever be responsible for a development that changed the way sports across the world are conducted.
Although his contribution to athletics hasn't yet gotten our beloved Detroit Lions any breaks from the crews who don it on Sunday, we should never forget Lloyd Olds.
Yes, he created a shirt – one that has become iconic. In his creation, however, there is another takeaway, one that can do us all good to remember in a time where so much division, anger, worry, and uncertainty has flooded the world.
Llyod Olds never settled for blending in, even though he had every reason to want to. After all, he was a referee, and even in the 1920's, was surely a top-target for criticism and banter among players and spectators alike. Still, Olds dared to be different. He believed in himself and executed his ambition. Despite doing what seemed marginal at the time, he never ceased to the critics, and passionately moved forward to better himself and those who followed him.
In a world surrounded with critics and challenges, we should all be like Lloyd Olds.
Dare to be different. Strive to stick out. Chase even the craziest of ideas.
You never know, your small idea today could turn out to be important tomorrow, or even 120 years down the line.
Outrageous? Perhaps. Unconventional? Certainly.
Revolutionary? Most definitely.
Lloyd Olds – An Eastern Michigan legend.
Olds passed in 1982. The Olds-Robb Student Recreation/Intramural Complex on the EMU campus is a fitting memorial to the man of stripes.
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Game Changer: The Lloyd Olds Story - EMU Eagles
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