Tale of a Touchdown: Mike Thompson Plays for the Greater Good
There’s no film to document the greatest moment of Mike Thompson’s football career. It ran out a few seconds earlier. Doesn’t matter, though. The sequence of events is so indelibly etched in his memory that replaying the grainy, black-and-white, reel-to-reel tape 30 years later would more than likely diminish it anyway.
In the fall of 1973, Thompson, now a personal counselor in Collegiate’s Upper School, was a senior wide receiver for Hampden-Sydney College. He was good, very good, so good in fact that he was one of the most outstanding receivers not only in the Division III Mason-Dixon Conference but also in the state of Virginia.
His success catching the football earned him tangible rewards. He was first-team all-conference and all-state and won the Tigers’ awards for best offensive player and for sportsmanship. The honors based on his statistics (40 receptions, 625 yards, 5 touchdowns) he could accept, but the other, well, he was, by his own estimation, fooling a lot of people.
In the fall of 1973, Thompson, now a personal counselor in Collegiate’s Upper School, was a senior wide receiver for Hampden-Sydney College. He was good, very good, so good in fact that he was one of the most outstanding receivers not only in the Division III Mason-Dixon Conference but also in the state of Virginia.
His success catching the football earned him tangible rewards. He was first-team all-conference and all-state and won the Tigers’ awards for best offensive player and for sportsmanship. The honors based on his statistics (40 receptions, 625 yards, 5 touchdowns) he could accept, but the other, well, he was, by his own estimation, fooling a lot of people.
“I had become painfully aware that my football had become completely egotistical,” he explained one afternoon recently as he sat in his comfortable office in the Student Activities Center. “It wasn’t like people thought I was playing for myself, but inside, I knew I was.”
The season finale for Hampden-Sydney is usually the traditional battle royal with Randolph-Macon, but this year, the most important game on the docket was a late October encounter with Towson State that would put the winner atop the Mason-Dixon standings.
The night before, Thompson, already plagued by the demons of egotism, tossed and turned with what was probably the flu. “I woke up about 3 a.m.,” he recalls. “My stomach was queasy. I was sweating. I was sick as a dog. I was lying there in bed and said, ‘Jesus, please heal me.’
“It was like a wind swept through me. I was completely healed. I got up and took a long walk around campus. As I walked, I told God that I was going to play this game completely unselfishly for the team, not for me. I made a vow that I’d block like crazy and wouldn’t focus on my own stats. I’d give 110 percent the whole game.”
Thompson remembers well the events of the next day. He remembers the coolness of the air and the brilliance of the Prince Edward County foliage that formed a backdrop for “Death Valley,” the vintage stadium where H-SC plays its home games. He remembers that he didn’t touch the football after warm-ups because the Towson State defenders shadowed his every step. He remembers his fatigue as the game clock ticked down, for on his team’s final series, he ran three straight fly patterns, each a full-throttle sprint downfield. And he remembers that as his team lined up on its own 2-yard line behind 35-30 with 2 seconds left, the stands began to empty as the crowd headed for the fraternity houses not far away.
“It made me mad,” he recalls. “It was like they’d given up.” Of course, the Tigers hadn’t.
The final play was a screen pass. Quarterback Donnie Cournow would take the snap, drop back into his end zone, and loft the football to the left side to freshman tailback Todd Young, who would follow a phalanx of blockers. Thompson’s responsibility was to streak downfield yet again, take the cornerback with him, and then assist with the blocking.
With tension thick in the air, the play unfolded as planned, but Thompson quickly read the developing situation, broke his pattern after 5 yards, doubled back into the end zone, and took a lateral from Young. Just as Young pitched the ball, he leveled the cornerback who had followed Thompson.
With that hindrance gone, Thompson sprinted against the grain parallel to the goal line with the Towson State defense in hot pursuit. Quickly, he was out of the end zone and flying up the right sideline. “I took a deep breath,” he recalls. “I intentionally held the ball very loosely and thought to myself, ‘If I hit the turf, the ball’s coming out of my hands.’ I saw an opening and turned on the juice.”
By the time he reached the Tigers’ 15, he’d already covered about 50 yards. What had begun as a last-ditch, against-all-odds effort was now an 85-yard footrace pitting an exhausted Thompson against 11 guys who’d traveled from just north of Baltimore to win a championship but now saw their season’s dream vanishing before their eyes.
As he raced the yellow-jerseyed defenders, Thompson was keenly aware of a very athletic, 6-5, defensive end bearing down on him so quickly that he could almost feel his hands latching onto his shoulders. He was aware of Lanny Junes, the wide receiver on the right side, trailing the play, and he knew that if he coughed up the football, Junes would be the heir apparent to the miracle that was developing.
As the remaining crowd cheered wildly and his teammates on the opposite sideline jumped in jubilation, he sprinted with all he had not just for 6 points but for the fulfillment of the vow he’d made only hours before.
And then he was across the goal line. Completely spent, he was mobbed by his teammates. “Scariest moment of my life,” Thompson recalls. “I was under the entire team for way too long. I couldn’t breathe.” Stokeley Fulton, the legendary H-SC coach, greeted him with a bear hug. It was then that he realized the magnitude of his and his teammates’ accomplishment.
“That experience proved to me that there’re always bends and twists that make things work,” he said. “There’s always hope. Did I think that what happened would happen? Of course not. But I knew the game wasn’t going to end without my giving 110 percent.”
Two weeks later in Ashland, Hampden-Sydney defeated the Yellow Jackets 21-0 for the league title. Thompson caught a touchdown pass to help the cause, but in the third quarter he blew out his right knee and left the field in an ambulance. He never played football again. His dream of a tryout with the Washington Redskins ended on the operating table at St. Mary’s Hospital. The next fall, he became a teacher and coach at St. Christopher’s, his alma mater, and in 1980 joined the faculty at Collegiate where he’s served ever since.
Three decades later, Thompson can still see that golden afternoon of his youth, but when he pauses to reflect, it isn’t the glory he brought to the Hampden-Sydney family or to himself that stands out. Instead, it’s the emotions, the overwhelming emotions that ranged from desperation to exhaustion to elation and, finally, to thanksgiving.
“I knew when I crossed the goal line that I had honored a commitment to play with abandon and without selfishness,” he says. “I was so overjoyed that we won the game, but more so, in my spiritual journey, I knew that God had worked a miracle.” --Weldon Bradshaw wbradsha@collegiate-va.org
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The season finale for Hampden-Sydney is usually the traditional battle royal with Randolph-Macon, but this year, the most important game on the docket was a late October encounter with Towson State that would put the winner atop the Mason-Dixon standings.
The night before, Thompson, already plagued by the demons of egotism, tossed and turned with what was probably the flu. “I woke up about 3 a.m.,” he recalls. “My stomach was queasy. I was sweating. I was sick as a dog. I was lying there in bed and said, ‘Jesus, please heal me.’
“It was like a wind swept through me. I was completely healed. I got up and took a long walk around campus. As I walked, I told God that I was going to play this game completely unselfishly for the team, not for me. I made a vow that I’d block like crazy and wouldn’t focus on my own stats. I’d give 110 percent the whole game.”
Thompson remembers well the events of the next day. He remembers the coolness of the air and the brilliance of the Prince Edward County foliage that formed a backdrop for “Death Valley,” the vintage stadium where H-SC plays its home games. He remembers that he didn’t touch the football after warm-ups because the Towson State defenders shadowed his every step. He remembers his fatigue as the game clock ticked down, for on his team’s final series, he ran three straight fly patterns, each a full-throttle sprint downfield. And he remembers that as his team lined up on its own 2-yard line behind 35-30 with 2 seconds left, the stands began to empty as the crowd headed for the fraternity houses not far away.
“It made me mad,” he recalls. “It was like they’d given up.” Of course, the Tigers hadn’t.
The final play was a screen pass. Quarterback Donnie Cournow would take the snap, drop back into his end zone, and loft the football to the left side to freshman tailback Todd Young, who would follow a phalanx of blockers. Thompson’s responsibility was to streak downfield yet again, take the cornerback with him, and then assist with the blocking.
With tension thick in the air, the play unfolded as planned, but Thompson quickly read the developing situation, broke his pattern after 5 yards, doubled back into the end zone, and took a lateral from Young. Just as Young pitched the ball, he leveled the cornerback who had followed Thompson.
With that hindrance gone, Thompson sprinted against the grain parallel to the goal line with the Towson State defense in hot pursuit. Quickly, he was out of the end zone and flying up the right sideline. “I took a deep breath,” he recalls. “I intentionally held the ball very loosely and thought to myself, ‘If I hit the turf, the ball’s coming out of my hands.’ I saw an opening and turned on the juice.”
By the time he reached the Tigers’ 15, he’d already covered about 50 yards. What had begun as a last-ditch, against-all-odds effort was now an 85-yard footrace pitting an exhausted Thompson against 11 guys who’d traveled from just north of Baltimore to win a championship but now saw their season’s dream vanishing before their eyes.
As he raced the yellow-jerseyed defenders, Thompson was keenly aware of a very athletic, 6-5, defensive end bearing down on him so quickly that he could almost feel his hands latching onto his shoulders. He was aware of Lanny Junes, the wide receiver on the right side, trailing the play, and he knew that if he coughed up the football, Junes would be the heir apparent to the miracle that was developing.
As the remaining crowd cheered wildly and his teammates on the opposite sideline jumped in jubilation, he sprinted with all he had not just for 6 points but for the fulfillment of the vow he’d made only hours before.
And then he was across the goal line. Completely spent, he was mobbed by his teammates. “Scariest moment of my life,” Thompson recalls. “I was under the entire team for way too long. I couldn’t breathe.” Stokeley Fulton, the legendary H-SC coach, greeted him with a bear hug. It was then that he realized the magnitude of his and his teammates’ accomplishment.
“That experience proved to me that there’re always bends and twists that make things work,” he said. “There’s always hope. Did I think that what happened would happen? Of course not. But I knew the game wasn’t going to end without my giving 110 percent.”
Two weeks later in Ashland, Hampden-Sydney defeated the Yellow Jackets 21-0 for the league title. Thompson caught a touchdown pass to help the cause, but in the third quarter he blew out his right knee and left the field in an ambulance. He never played football again. His dream of a tryout with the Washington Redskins ended on the operating table at St. Mary’s Hospital. The next fall, he became a teacher and coach at St. Christopher’s, his alma mater, and in 1980 joined the faculty at Collegiate where he’s served ever since.
Three decades later, Thompson can still see that golden afternoon of his youth, but when he pauses to reflect, it isn’t the glory he brought to the Hampden-Sydney family or to himself that stands out. Instead, it’s the emotions, the overwhelming emotions that ranged from desperation to exhaustion to elation and, finally, to thanksgiving.
“I knew when I crossed the goal line that I had honored a commitment to play with abandon and without selfishness,” he says. “I was so overjoyed that we won the game, but more so, in my spiritual journey, I knew that God had worked a miracle.” --Weldon Bradshaw wbradsha@collegiate-va.org
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