Every few minutes I’d hear a groan, or an "aw shit!!" come from somewhere in the band; then there would be a timeout called, we’d pick up our instruments and play our Duke fight songs, and quickly return to our radios. Once it got past No. 200 I started to relax and pay attention to the game, and by the time my number 246 came up I was positively euphoric, just enjoying and appreciating life.
It wasn’t until late that night that we returned to the Duke Campus, and I quickly called my parents back in Massachusetts, who had been watching the proceedings on TV and were even more excited than I was. We knew I wasn’t going to Viet Nam.