JACKSON, MS -- The play lasted about 18 seconds. The memories have lasted 50 years. It'll be five decades ago this Saturday that Billy Cannon ran into the Tiger Stadium end zone with the punt that pushed No. 1 LSU past No. 3 Ole Miss, 7 to 3. In the process he ran into Louisiana folklore, carrying with him his triumphant coach and the triumphed-over rebel tacklers. Two nights ago they re-united in Jackson, some for the first time, some for the latest time, some for the last time. That play earned Cannon immortality and the Heisman trophy – in some ways, one and the same. For LSU, the footage of it is as precious as the Holy Grail. For Ole Miss, it is the cruelest Halloween prank history could ever have played, one that is exhumed every October 31, a haunting highlight which refuses to die. They can laugh about it now as they did Tuesday night. Billy Cannon and his coach Paul Dietzel surrounded by Ole Miss Rebels, who have reluctantly come to appreciate the bittersweet taste of their own slice of immortality that the play provided as well. “You can’t trust them in a group. Individually, one-on-one, they’re great guys,” Cannon said. Just as digital has replaced kodachrome, kodachrome replaced black and white. A memory 50 years old cannot be restored. It should only be revisited. And so we gathered some of the principals to take us back five decades to the time, to that moment. Ole Miss' Jake Gibbs punting on 3rd and 17 from his own 42. Billy Cannon waiting, Paul Dietzel watching. “It was come end-over-end moment, 47 yards in the air," Gibbs said. "And it hit, and you thought the ground would be soft, it would just hit and scoop out of bounds. But that thing went straight up in the air." Dietzel had a rule: field no punt inside of the 15 for fear of punting. “The ball takes a bounce, and I saw Billy Cannon, he was just kind of eyeing it up, and I thought no Billy, no Billy, no, no, no,” Dietzel said. Cannon said, “I don’t care if I had been on the goal line. With the run I had made the time before, I was going to try and take it back, because it doesn’t take a math student to look up at that clock and say, ‘we’re running out of time, and this thing isn’t getting any easier.’ “And then Leblom makes a block in there, takes three of them me who had hands on me.” Dietzel said, “He took off, and after he cleared off about three or four people, it changed from no, no, no to go, go, go” And go he did. With the punter Gibbs the last man standing in his way – momentarily. “When I tried to run him out of bounds, I tried to back pedal and run him out of bounds, and I made a mistake, hit him up high, and of course, you know, 6-2, 215 running as he was, he just shut me off like I was a little puppy,” Gibbs said. Cannon didn’t see the footage until 10 years after it happened. He’s seen it hundreds of times since, of course, though it was one of countless highlights in an illustrious career, he still embraces it like a first born. Life got far more complicated for Cannon afterward. Some decisions off the field were punished with far more regret than those on the field were rewarded. But of both his life, and the play will survive it, he says, “I’ve had a hell of a run. “A hell of a run.” Friday night, between 5 and 8 p.m., Cannon will be where his Heisman trophy currently resides: T.J. Ribs in Baton Rouge, signing posters commemorating the single most famous play in LSU history. It’ll also be celebrated during the LSU – Tulane game Saturday.
