Reading about all these new portal faces and this Tennessee State game they’ve got scheduled just makes me think of the old days when you knew the sounds of Sanford Stadium by heart. You didn’t need a roster sheet, you knew the men out there. I remember sittinng in the stands in the late 80s, the air thick and hot, and you could hear the individual calls from the huddle echo in the bowl before the crowd noise swallowed it up. The stadium had a voice then, a collective groan or roar that built over four quarters, not this piped-in music and constant hype noise they blast now. It was organic. It was ours. The place shook when we stuffed Auburn on the goal line in ‘86, a sound born from pure tension and release, not some soundboard operator hitting a button. These days, with the portal churn, half the guys making those hits are strangers by September. How are you supposed to build a connection, a real stadium memory, with a roster of mercenaries? I think about a player like our linebacker, CJ Allen, who they’re talking about now. A sledgehammer, they say. That’s the kind of player you remember. You watched him grow from a freshman special teamer into that force. You knew his number, his stance, the way he’d celebrate. That continuity created the lore of the place. The stadium itself felt like it knew the players, from Herschel plowing through the Gator Bowl mud to David Pollack stripping that quarterback in the South Carolina end zone. Those moments were etched into the concrete. Now they’re talking about Texas returning sixty-eight percent of their production like it’s some novel concept. We used to call that having a team. Not a collection of hired guns. You built an identity within those hedges. The Walk from the old dorm to the stadium meant something because the guys walking it had been through years of battles together. The roar when they emerged from the tunnel was for brothers, not just the latest uniform. This new game, with fifty-man portal classes like over at Oklahoma State, it turns every stadium into a generic rental facility. The soul is gone. The history in the stands can’t keep up with the turnover on the field. So they’ll play Tennessee State, and the stadium will be nice and loud, I’m sure. But for us old-timers, a part of us is still listening for the echoes of a different time. When the biggest noise came from knowing exactly who was in the game, and exactly what they were about to do, because they’d been doing it for us for years. That’s a memory you can’t transfer in or out.

You lost to Bama 67 times

Man, I feel that deep in my bones, but from our side of things. I get the nostalgia for the old days, the connection to playrs who grew up in your program. We had that with guys like Steven Jackson, or more recently, with B.J. Baylor grinding out yards behind an O-line we watched develop for years. That stuff matters. But you can't tell me the portal doesn't have its place for a program like ours. We aren't Georgia. We don't get five-stars lining up at the door. The portal is how we level the playing field, how we patch a hole or add a veteran presence to a young squad. It's NOT about mercenaries, it's about finding guys who want to buy into what Jonathan Smith was building, and now what Coach Bray is selling. They come here to be Beavers, to wear the black and orange with pride, and we embrace them just the same. That Tennessee State game you mentioned? For us, that's a chance to see our new pieces, the portal guys and the freshmen, become part of our story. The roar in Reser Stadium when Damien Martinez breaks a long one. It's born from knowing we've built something special here, through high school recruits and transfers alike, who all chose to fight for this logo. The soul of a stadium isn't just in continuity. We know who we are.

You never knew Bear's boys either

The portal era demands adaptation, and continuity is overrated if it means stagnation. NC State returned 78% of its production and added key transfers like Jordan Waters, blending proven contributors with immediate impact players. That's how you build a modern contender, not by clinging to nostalgia.

Sounds like a Georgia problem

Our guys bleed orange and blue