By the 1939 game against Alabama, the Vols were also on their way to setting two NCAA records that may never be broken: They would hold their opponents scoreless through 17 straight regular-season games and 71 consecutive quarters, from the second quarter of the game against LSU on Oct. 29, 1938, to me first quarter of the game against the Crimson Tide on Oct. 19, 1940. Tennessee was also in the midst of what could turn out to be the last unflawed regular season in college football, a campaign in which the Vols went undefeated, untied and unscored upon. They won their 10 regular-season games in '39 by a combined score of 212-0.
Of all that these Volunteers are remembered for, however, nothing remotely approaches the drama that ensued on Oct. 21 when the 5'10", 160-pound Butler, playing tailback in Tennessee's single-wing offense, took the snap from Norbert Ackerman on the Tennessee 44-yard line. Butler took off left and swept toward the corner, chasing his blocking back, Ike Peel, as Peel dropped his shoulder and flattened Alabama end Gene Blackwell. Butler crossed the 50, cut suddenly right and raced across the field to the other sideline, the hands of Tide defenders grabbing at him as he went. At the 40-yard line defensive halfback Jimmy Nelson reached for him but missed, whereupon Butler turned back toward the middle of the gridiron. He feinted, stopped, swiveled and spun away from All-America tackle Fred Davis and several other defenders. Then there was Mosley, awaiting him near the 30. Butler sprinted straight at him, faked right, cut left. "I leaned, and the little pissant cut back right again!" Mosley says. "He cut twice on me! Fooled me."
Butler blew past Mosley, and as he got to the 20, he danced in front of Nelson, who had raced back into the play, until Peel reappeared and cut Nelson down. Loose at last, Butler raced the final 20 yards to score and put the Vols ahead 6-0. He sprawled on his back in the end zone, breathing great gulps of air, as the Tennessee trainer rushed to his side and jubilant fans came out of the stands and danced around the uprights.
It was officially a 56-yard gallop, but most observers believe Butler went at least twice that far. "It must have taken the better part of three minutes," recalls Ed Cifers, a Volunteers end from 1938 to '40. "Everybody on the club had a shot at knocking somebody down. It was quite a spectacle."
