Ball State University - Orient Yearbook (Muncie, IN)

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Fit for an appearance in a Tide com- mercial, Blaine Dixler, meeds a shower after his unsuccessful strug- | gle in Theta Xi’s annual contest. Rocky Rothrock After a bath in the mud, Blaine Dixler and Jim Sims review their loss from the shore of the mud pit. The two were among the many valiant but los- ing contenders at Tug-O-War. With a squeal, an ‘‘about to be un- successful team’”’ loses the strength to keep from the pit. The team show- ed there was no room for pride on the muddy costume of defeat. i ai Rocky Rothrock Tug-0-WareLo

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2 2 ¢Tug-O-War Masters of mud-making Pigs proven cleaner than students eby Janie Tuttlee “Be sure to wear your oldest, un- wanted clothes because they won't be spared. And neither will you,” she warned. At that point, the memories came flooding back...until then, my first year as a participant in the An- nual Theta Xi Tug-O-War had for- tunately been forgotten. But now, as 19 other girls and | listened to our activity chairman prepare us for “the tug,” scenes from the previous year flashed through my mind--the cold, wet mud hanging on clothes, stretching them out of shape; the dust flying through the air from dried mud on matted hair; the look of that ominous mud pit as girls were pulled screaming into its gooey, dark bed. | was crazy to be doing this again. The weather on that fateful day was unusually warm for October--near 80 degrees--but rain had fallen early in the morning, making the air humid and the mud pit all the more goopy. Members of Theta Xi fraternity busi- ly worked on perfecting the texture of the mud. They seemed to have devised an art of the practice of “mud making” since the creation of this an- nual event 23 years ago. A hose ran into the center of the 20’ by 40’ pit, and men ran full speed and hurled themselves belly down in- to the goo. Many came up with brown smiles and running noses, but others managed to escape clean from the neck up. Another team of men standing at the pit’s end held one end of the rope and pulled a single man through the mud, a strategy adopted to mix the mud and make it uniform. Many girls got their feet stuck by the mud’s suc- tion; shoes would certainly be lost somewhere in the murky depths as the day wore on. The music rocked as the captains of the first two teams were called to the announcer’s stand for a coin toss to determine who would get first dibs on their favorite end of the pit. One end was much more slippery than the other from victims’ clawing their way out and drooling mud on the grass. And although sand had been spread to add traction, the un- fortunate team stuck tugging on that end still had the disadvantage. Keeping this in mind in their strategies, teams in the Independent division competed first, serving as guinea pigs for the rest. The array of team names made me chuckle as the announcer read them off. Alpha Phi Number One was among the milder names, while titles like Tri Koppa Buzz and the Wet-n-Wild Swimmin’ Women leaned toward the wild side. Some teams were visibly so much larger than their opponents that the outcome of the tug seemed easily predictable, and | silently hoped my team wouldn't have to tug against them. But to my amazement, the “big” teams often lost due to slipping, fall- ing or simply giving up. | began to have some hope for my team’s suc- cess. That is, until our turn came up... continued - i Rocky Rothrock

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24 -Tus-0-War Masters of mud-making In an early qualifying round, Kathy Kantra, Pam Shay and Margie Huseland hold off their opponent. The women’s efforts resulted in a second-place finish for Alpha Phi sorority. continued When the announcer needed the two team captains at the stand for the toss, we realized we hadn't picked a team captain. Suddenly, everyone looked at me. | suppose | deserved it since I'd been bragging all morning about being a veteran mud tugger, and my being a senior didn’t help matters. Now my team had faith in me to win the toss as if | had some mystical power to flip the coin in our favor, and the pressure built as a voice behind me said, “If we lose the toss we're doomed.” Nevertheless, | optimistically ap- proached the announcer’s stand to face the opposing team’s captain. | decided to call tails for the simple reason that I'd never won a toss by calling heads. The quarter seemed to spin in slow motion, and just as it looked like tails would have it, the quarter rested heads up. My suspicions had failed me, and | had failed my team. My teammates’ smiles suddenly sunk into “what-have-you-done-to-us” Out of breath, Jim Anderson pulls himself out of the muddy pit. Many teams tried to avoid being pulled in, but as the rope moved along one team always succumbed. frowns as they shuffled to the mud- dier end of the pit. I felt like I'd just fumbled the ball at our own five-yard line in a tied foot- ball game, so I shyly inched to the back of the tug line and picked up the rope. At any rate, they were crazy if they thought I’d hang on and go down with my ship like any good captain should. The crowd around us, having seemed so loud before, faded out as we concentrated on pulling in unity and at least doing well enough to avoid total humiliation. When the rope was even at both ends, the countdown began--“One, two, three, TUG!”--and | pulled with everything | had. The initial surge put us in the lead as | saw my feet move slowly further backward. But then something hap- pened. My feet lost traction on the flattened grass, the rope at my end got shorter, and the distance to the pit decreased. Not mentally prepared for the cold, heavy bath I was about to take, | pull- } wie ang te on Rocky Rothrock eRocky Rothrock ed and grunted and winced until finally all hope was lost. The oppos- ing team gave a final yank, and one by one my teammates plopped into the pit. Amazingly enough, | escaped the mud, but losing still hurt a little. As we stood in line to use the hose, | made a big mistake. | turned to a teammate and said, “I can’t believe I've stayed this spotless.” She just had to do it. She just had to say, “Well, I can fix that” and wrapped her gooey arms around me, hugging her muddy clothes against my formerly white shirt. At that time, | made up my mind to retreat from the scene lest someone throw me in. While the remaining teams cheered for the winners and competed for the spirit award, | packed into the little Camaro with six other girls and head- ed home. My last chance at not-so- clean college fun was over, and | decided to make the most of my re- maining months at Ball State. After all, | had to leave my mark somehow. @