When VMI Was Virginia Tech’s Biggest Game

On a ballfield in Richmond, Virginia in the mid-70s, a group of friends and their spouses convened for an annual tradition: a softball game. Mostly, it was an excuse to drink some beers, reconnect and trade good-natured jabs with one another. The underlying connection? VMI and VPI. 

Some of these 20-somethings were fraternity brothers. Some were fellow cadets. Many had been connected since their high school days in Richmond at Hermitage or Douglas Freeman. Outside of football, they got together for the summer softball game or at a Christmas party each year. Their connection was tied to a rivalry more than 50 years old that was as meaningful as any in the country. 

But it was already a rivalry in its twilight.

I was a small kid at the time, and already a Tech fan thanks to my dad having graduated from there and my parents taking me to games. Coming over the hill on Southgate Drive and seeing Lane Stadium appear on the right always felt so big time to me; I felt like I was going to the Super Bowl and I’d get goose bumps on my arm merely at the sight of the stadium. Still do.

Anyway, my parents let me tag along to this summer softball game, and it was my first taste of what it was like to have a rival. I knew they were friends, but there was also an “us versus them” angle, which was novel for me. One year, Tech had shut out VMI the previous fall. So for the Christmas party, one of the Hokie alums had t-shirts made for everyone that read “VPI 33, VMI 0” on the front, “3-8 Merry Christmas Big Red” on the back, referring to the game and VMI’s record. I spotted one of them at the softball game, and thought it was funny. Aside from some of the VMI folks wearing matching ugly (to me) red and yellow striped polos, there weren’t any uniforms. Just a good time.

Later that year, with my understanding of the rivalry taking shape, I got to see it firsthand. One of the first games I remember going to in Lane Stadium, and the first that Tech won, was the 1977 VMI game. Game time temperature was 21 degrees, and the south end zone scoreboard flashed “Wind Chill -30”. Tech won that Senior Day game 27-7 in what is still the coldest game I’ve ever attended. It obviously left an impression on me, as I still have the program.

For my parents, their friends and all of the fans in Lane Stadium that day, playing VMI every year was all they ever knew. And for generations of Virginians before them, VPI versus VMI on Thanksgiving Day was a time-honored tradition.

It’s strange to consider now, but VMI was, for a long time, Virginia Tech’s biggest game. Though they haven’t played in 42 years, VMI (79 games) is second only to Virginia (106) among opponents Tech has faced. With the exception of 1972 and two years during World War II, VMI and Virginia Tech played every season from 1913 to 1984. And with the exception of World War II, they played every year in Roanoke from 1913 to 1971, first at the old Fair Grounds (later known as Maher Field) and then Victory Stadium. 

VMI-VPI was dubbed The Military Classic of the South, and it was a social event few could rival. For years, each school’s cadet corps traveled to Roanoke by special trains; VPI from Huckleberry Station and VMI from Lexington. On game day, the two corps assembled near the Patrick Henry Hotel and marched down Jefferson Street to the stadium with fans and onlookers lining the street. The honor of marching first alternated annually between the schools. There were parties and luncheons as well as formal and informal dances all across Roanoke. Then the parties made their way to Blacksburg as part of the weekend’s festivities.

It’s hard to overstate the significance of this matchup and this weekend. And were it not for the rivalry, many things we associate with Virginia Tech may look different today.

Numerous traditions and institutions we embrace today may have never happened were it not for this long-gone rivalry. 

The rise of Tech’s gobbler mascot included a memorable episode in the VMI rivalry. Hokie legend Floyd “Hard Times” Meade, himself an adopted mascot of the athletic department, trained a large turkey to perform tricks on the sideline of football games. During a 1914 VMI game in Roanoke, VMI’s bulldog attacked the gobbler, reportedly prompting the VPI Corps to rush to its defense and further elevating its stature among the cadets. Live turkeys remained a part of Tech football for four decades before eventually giving way to costumed versions. Though the “Gobbler” nickname preceded Meade's trained turkey, the mascot's appearance in the biggest game of the year helped cement its place in Virginia Tech tradition. 

Virginia Tech’s beloved cannon “Skipper” was born out of this important rivalry. In response to taunts from VMI’s cadets for not having a cannon at the annual game, future Rocket Boys author Homer Hickam and fellow cadets Alton Harper and George Fox began collecting scrap brass and persuaded a local foundry to cast it for free. Completed just as the news arrived of President John F. Kennedy’s assassination, the cannon was named Skipper in tribute to his naval service. At the 1963 game at Victory Stadium, they unveiled it with a triple charge resulting in a ground-shaking blast. A statement was made and Skipper has been a fixture ever since.

The Game-Ball Run also traces its origins to the rivalry. During the Victory Stadium years, Tech cadets would carry the game ball from Blacksburg to Roanoke. It eventually became an annual tradition by the Army ROTC’s Ranger Company in 1977. After the VMI series ended, it evolved into a 100-mile run around campus during Homecoming week, with cadets encouraging fellow Hokies to touch the ball for good luck.

Everyone who’s spent time in Blacksburg has visited The Cellar. If it weren’t for the VMI-VPI rivalry, this Blacksburg staple might never have existed. Nick Kappas came to Roanoke from Greece in 1913 and worked at a restaurant there. VPI cadets who were familiar with the place pleaded with Kappas to move to Blacksburg and open his own place. Their persuasiveness worked. Kappas established the restaurant generations knew as The Greek’s in the same building occupied today by the Cellar.

Virginia Tech grew considerably as a university in the 1950s and 1960s, and participation in the corps became voluntary in 1964. Then, Lane Stadium opened in 1965, which reduced the incentive to have major games off-campus. It was clear the two schools were on different paths.

After the annual Thanksgiving affair in Roanoke came to an end, Tech and VMI played from 1973-1984 either in Blacksburg or in Richmond (the Tobacco Bowl) or Norfolk (the Oyster Bowl). Following Tech’s 54-7 win at Foreman Field in Norfolk in 1984, the series was shelved. 

Though Virginia Tech remains one of only two large public universities maintaining a full-time corps within a predominantly civilian student body (Texas A&M the other), it grew in size and stature in a way that VMI wasn’t inclined to follow. Virginia emerged as Tech’s primary rival. The Citadel replaced Virginia Tech as VMI’s opponent in the “Military Classic of the South.” The Hokies made leaps to the highest levels of intercollegiate athletics while VMI found its home in the Football Championship Subdivision (FCS).

After a 42-year hiatus, the teams meet again in Blacksburg on September 5. Few expect a highly competitive game, but anyone old enough to remember what the rivalry once meant will surely feel something when VMI’s red and yellow squad lines up across from Tech’s orange and maroon one more time. 

Gen X was the last to witness the remnants of something earlier generations considered indispensable. This reunion, which opens the 2026 season, cannot restore the old rivalry; too much has changed at both schools and across college football. It can, however, remind us of what the rivalry gave them, especially Virginia Tech. Skipper, the Game-Ball Run, the mascot on the sidelines, and even a beloved corner bar and restaurant in downtown Blacksburg all carry traces of VMI-VPI. The rivalry ended nearly a half-century ago, but it never entirely left us.