Thank You, Gary DeLaune

For the 2021 high school football season, my son David joined Texas Sports Productions to direct video broadcasts. We had the privilege of working several games together.

Before one of those games, we had some trouble getting all our equipment out of the elevator at Comalander Stadium when an elderly gentlemen nearby offered to help and grabbed one of our bags, carrying it to our table on the mezzanine. We thanked him, of course, then he went on his way.

Once we were alone, I told David, “do you remember that man who just helped us with our equipment?”

“Yeah?” he asked, curious as to why I would revisit the moment.

“He was present when Jack Ruby assassinated Lee Harvey Oswald.”

David had just met Gary DeLaune.

I’d been aware of Gary DeLaune since the 1970s, when he was the weekend sports anchor on Eyewitness News. Then, he was most well known for the wildly patterned sportcoats he wore on the air. Those sportcoats were loud. I mean, AC/DC loud. I’m pretty sure he had his interesting way of turning a phrase by then, but at least figuratively, we couldn’t hear what he said because his jacket was so loud. As I recall, most people didn’t laugh at the jackets; they just enjoyed them. And for those who did laugh, Gary didn’t seem to mind. He was just glad you noticed.

Of course, the bulk of Gary’s 60-year career was spent on radio. He performed a variety of roles on radio, but is best remembered for his coverage of high school football, highlighted by his creative catchphrases. It was always “phrases” too; he invented a handful of new ones every week. All of us who heard him had a favorite; mine was from a broadcast of Cornerstone’s state championship football game in 2003, played at Floyd Casey Stadium in Waco. On that chilly night, he said of a Cornerstone runner, “he latches onto the coattails of Old Man Winter, and slides into December with the forecast!”

Was he tackled? Did he get a first down? How far did his run advance the ball?

I have no idea. But I’ve always remembered what he said.

Gary’s greatest gift to high school broadcasting, despite all his memorable moments, may be the simple fact that he did it at all. Gary was as well known as anyone in San Antonio; I say that when I personally didn’t learn about Gary’s coverage of John F. Kennedy’s assassination until maybe 2010. The fact that a man who had worked in television, and was an ongoing presence on morning radio, was willing – no, make that EAGER – to broadcast high school football gave the medium a visibility that few others could (and even fewer tried.) The fact that he worked high school football games gave legitimacy to the venture. The fact that he couldn’t be in two places at one time opened the door for the rest of us do it. On top of all that, Gary ALWAYS sounded like he was having a great time broadcasting his game. I will always be grateful to Gary for this.

Along with carrying stuff that evening last fall, Gary helped me a few others times along the way. (I’m proud to say I also helped him a time or two.) I’ll close with my favorite moment with Gary.

Smithson Valley was playing Madison at Comalander Stadium in 2004. I’d have been eager to do the game just because it was a huge game against great rivals. On top of that, my daughter Emily was a student at Madison (a fact which helped me draw the assignment) and she’d told me word on the street was David Edwards, the paralyzed Madison football player, would be named Homecoming King at halftime. I was broadcasting the game with Virgil Peterson as my color commentator and Manny Rodriguez as our statistician. The game was on a Saturday afternoon, as I recall, and attracted massive media coverage. With so many people in the home press box for the big game, we were assigned space in the (much smaller) visiting press box. (As of several years ago, there is no visiting press box at Comalander Stadium.)

We were still dependent on analog phone lines back then, and the phone line in the visiting press box was having serious problems that day. We were trying everything, and nothing would hold a connection for any length of time. After the futility of our efforts became known, NEISD made space for us in the print media area of the home press box. The spectacle of Virgil, Manny, and I scrambling across the track from one side of the stadium to the other, carrying half-assembled equipment and the half-filled bags that would ordinarily hold the gear, with only about 15 minutes until we were due on the air, must have been quite amusing.

We did get on the air. I’m not sure if we had a full pregame show, but we did reach a point that we knew we would be on the air without missing the opening kickoff. I believe it was about then that I heard a tap on the glass to my left.

It was Gary. He may have been conducting a competing broadcast, but within the press box, there is a camaraderie among media. I’m sure he’d been in my shoes a few times over the years.

Once I was facing him, Gary taped a piece of paper to the window where we both could see. It was a list of the referee, the umpire, and the other game officials. He knew I’d had no time to get the names on my own, and he was ready to share.

I thanked him later. And I continue to thank Gary, for all he’s done.