(I wrote this Knox News story before the 2022 Tennessee-Alabama game. Bringing it back for another Third Saturday in October)
You’ve seen the iconic photo a thousand times, but how closely have you looked?
It’s from the 1982 football game between Tennessee and Alabama.
Legendary Vols coach Johnny Majors is being lifted on his players’ shoulders. Legendary Alabama coach Bear Bryant is reaching up to shake his hand after his No. 2 Crimson Tide were upset by the Vols.
The photo first appeared in the News Sentinel, then Sports Illustrated, then ESPN broadcasts and an endless number of books, videos and promotional publications celebrating Vols football.
The image is ingrained in the storied history of the “Third Saturday in October” rivalry, so any self-respecting Tennessee or Alabama fan has seen it.
But now look closer.
Who’s that out-of-place, wide-grinning mustached man between Majors and Bryant?
“I’ve wondered about that guy in the picture all these years,” said Michael Patrick, the former Knox News photographer who captured the photo amid that chaotic postgame celebration.
“So I’m really curious. Who is that guy?”
Well, he was a 21-year-old Army veteran who lost his date, found a ticket, begged a stadium usher, stormed the field, high-fived his idol and stumbled into becoming the greatest photobomber in the history of Tennessee football.
Oh, and it started a relationship with one of those iconic coaches that was quietly rekindled before Tennessee-Alabama games decades later.
The Third Saturday in October is on tap, so it’s the perfect time for that mustached man to reveal his identity and finally tell his story.
‘The most famous unfamous person I know’
Larry Shropshire sat in his white pickup truck in the parking lot of Daily Bread, his family’s non-profit community kitchen in Morristown, and tried to recall every moment from that crazy day 40 years ago.
His place in history is not a secret. Family and close friends love to share it, as if it’s a slice of Vols trivia that only they know.
A friend calls Shropshire “the most famous unfamous person I know.”
Daryl Brady, a U.S. Congressional district director and Shropshire’s golfing buddy, has the iconic photo saved on his cell phone as the profile picture for Shropshire in his contact list.
“Larry was a photobomber before photobombing was cool,” Brady said.
But it took a lot of twists and turns to put Shropshire into that historic moment.
‘Her dad owned about six Burger Kings’
On Oct. 16, 1982, Shropshire was supposed to meet a Knoxville woman for a first date that never happened.
His elderly neighbors wanted to set up Shropshire with their granddaughter. He was recently discharged from active duty in the Army and not looking to be tied down. But his mind changed in an instant when he met her.
“When she said she had tickets to the Tennessee-Alabama game, I was in,” Shropshire said. “She was fairly good looking, but that wasn’t as important as going to that game.
“Her dad owned about six Burger Kings. So I was thinking we’re going to be sitting on the 50-yard line.”
The World’s Fair was in Knoxville, and Tennessee fans filled the city on gameday. Shropshire drove from Morristown and sat in traffic for hours. But his date never showed up, called to cancel or left him a ticket.
“I was so mad,” Shropshire said. “Not just because she stood me up. But because the game had already started, and I didn’t have a ticket.”
Just as Shropshire was peeling out to leave Knoxville, he noticed a scalper on Cumberland Avenue waving a single ticket. It was only $10. He tossed the last of his cash at the man and raced to Neyland Stadium.
It wasn’t until an usher at the gate declined his access that Shropshire realized he had bought a student ticket. And without a student ID, he couldn’t use it.
Shropshire begged to get in. He told the attendant about every hardship he had endured – the traffic, the date that never showed, his lack of money and the football game he couldn’t live without seeing.
As the crowd roared inside the stadium, the attendant smiled and motioned him in. Shropshire was shocked to find his repurposed student ticket got him a front-row seat at the 20-yard line behind the Tennessee bench.
What a break, he thought. Could this day get any better?
‘If I was going to jail, a lot of people would go with me’
By 1982, Tennessee had lost 11 straight to Alabama, despite Majors’ best efforts.
“I’m a hard worker, not a miracle worker,” Majors said.
The former Heisman Trophy runner-up had returned to Tennessee in 1977 after coaching Pittsburgh to a national title. But he lost five games by double-digit margins to Bryant’s elite Crimson Tide squads, and Tennessee was a 13½-point underdog at home.
After Shropshire found his seat, the Vols fell behind 21-13. Then they scored 22 unanswered points, including Chuck Coleman’s 34-yard TD run in the fourth quarter that shook Neyland Stadium and its sellout crowd of 95,342.
With Tennessee clinging to a 35-28 lead, students started jumping over the 5-foot fence in hopes of storming the field. Shropshire, still on reserve duty after serving in the 82nd Airborne Division, made a snap decision to join them.
“If I was going to jail, a lot of people would go with me,” Shropshire said.
Alabama marched for what looked like a game-tying drive as anxious students flooded the sideline. Shropshire slithered through the crowd until he found himself star-struck and standing a few feet from Majors.
Alabama’s final pass was tipped in the end zone, and Tennessee’s Mike Terry leaped for the interception to seal it.
At 4:59 p.m., Tennessee fans rushed onto Shields-Watkins Field, many of them flying past the coaches and players. Shropshire said he gave Majors a high-five and then had the presence of mind to linger behind the coach toward midfield and another legend.
Players lifted Majors on their shoulders. He seemed almost surprised to see Bryant’s hand extended amid the melee.
‘I got the picture. And the moment was gone’
The picture is poetry without a single word, especially in retrospect.
Majors, the unlikely victor, sits above Bryant. The lively 47-year-old in an orange polo shirt pauses his elation for a moment of reverence for the grizzled 69-year-old in the houndstooth hat.
Bryant, arguably the greatest coach in college football history, reaches up to graciously congratulate Majors.
Shropshire, an uncredited character in this act, grins with glee at what he’s witnessing.
It was the final Alabama-Tennessee game for Bryant, who died 102 days later. But the photo lived on because it was one of a kind.
“I would never dream that it was the only picture like that, but it was,” said Patrick, who retired from Knox News in 2019. “I got the picture. Majors slid down. And the moment was gone.
“Years later, Majors told me one of the regrets of his career was that he didn’t get off his players’ shoulders before shaking Bear Bryant’s hand."
Patrick didn’t know what he had in the moment. He pivoted away from Majors and Bryant to take photos of the chaos surrounding them. Fans tore the goalpost down and took it out of the stadium. Police tried to corral the crowd.
Patrick shot a black-and-white photo of a cop dragging a fan by the hair and then hurried away with a bag of film rolls over his shoulder.
Traffic was so thick that Patrick and his fellow photographers got out of their car and ran the final five blocks to the newspaper's downtown office.
Shropshire followed the goalpost down Cumberland Avenue and partied for hours in what seemed so distant from the failed date that brought him there.
He doesn’t recall the name of the woman who stood him up – the supposed heiress to the East Tennessee Burger King empire. Her grandparents died later that year and their house sold. Shropshire never saw the woman again, but he’s grateful she was a no-show.
“My wife says that if that girl had shown up, I might have married her for her season tickets,” Shropshire said. “But then I wouldn’t have my wife now, and I wouldn’t be in that picture.”
Shropshire's 1978 blue Chevy truck was blocked in by cars after the game. So he stayed overnight in that parking lot, coincidentally, at a Burger King.
Shropshire saw the photo … seven years later
The handshake photo didn’t stand out immediately. Bryant’s death, Majors’ rise and the rivalry gave it a second life.
In 1989, Shropshire and his fiancé were at his parents’ house when they saw a TV commercial advertising Tennessee football’s “100 Years of Volunteers” VHS box set. An image flashed across the screen.
“Hey, that’s me!” Shropshire shouted.
His family was skeptical, and there was no rewind button on a TV broadcast. But when Shropshire got the box set for his Christmas present, the doubts disappeared.
There they were in the photo, left to right: Majors, Shropshire, Bryant.
“Oh my gosh, that is you!” his wife, Alisa, shouted. “We were floored.”
Over the years, the Shropshires collected a Sports Illustrated, a book on Tennessee football history and other magazines where the photo appeared.
Majors finished his career with a second stint at Pittsburgh. One day, he received a package filled with those magazines and books and a handwritten letter from Alisa. She explained how her husband was linked to the legendary coach and asked him to autograph the items.
Majors signed all of them and included his phone number in the return note.
When Shropshire finally summoned the courage to call Majors, they talked about their shared love for the Vols. He called him again during the Alabama week, and that became their routine for several years.
The men that made Tennessee-Alabama game special
Shropshire speaks reverently of Majors and his stepfather as if they’re one man. It explains why he gets choked up during Tennessee-Alabama week.
In 1978, his stepfather, Hobe Williams, took him to his first game at Neyland Stadium, when Tennessee lost 30-17 to Alabama.
Williams was a Vols fan, an Army veteran and a man of deep faith. Shropshire followed him in all three paths, and they grew close.
In 1993, Williams arrived at the furniture store he owned in Morristown to find a homeless man frozen to death after digging in the dumpster for something to eat. Williams vowed to never let another person go hungry in his town.
He turned his furniture store into Daily Bread. It has served 1.8 million meals to homeless, disabled people and veterans.
Shropshire eventually took over as the volunteer director. He feeds people and preaches sermons six days a week and still attends Tennessee games on Saturdays, sitting in section GG, row 4 of Neyland Stadium.
“My father gave me a heart for Tennessee football and gave me a heart for loving people,” Shropshire said. “And I miss him dearly.”
Williams died at 91 in 2017. Majors died at 85 in 2020.
“I loved to hear Johnny talk,” Shropshire said. “He was so enthusiastic. It was contagious.”
After his stepfather died, Shropshire wanted to see Majors. A few months later, a friend of Shropshire’s was stricken with cancer. He asked Majors to lift his spirits and meet them at a Vols game, and he agreed.
They spoke briefly, and Shropshire was awestruck finally seeing his idol in person again.
“But I was so ecstatic that I forgot to get a photo of me and Johnny together,” Shropshire said. “It was a big regret for me, but it’s OK.
“Yeah, I didn’t get a picture. But I was already in THE picture.”