"If you're not gonna give me 110%, keep your filthy hands off my rock."
A bunch of 18-22 year olds touch a rock and run down a hill. Eighty thousand fans make a lot of noise. Only in college football.
Some friends and I drove 15 hours from Columbia to Clemson for the 2000 Mizzou-Clemson game. Loud place. The east stands are so incredibly steep, and our seats were so incredibly high, that when the game turned faster than almost any other game in college football history (Clemson led 14-9 with 2:30 remaining in the second quarter and 41-9 with 12:00 left in the third quarter), we just turned around, poked God on the shoulder, and asked him why he had allowed us to make the trip. (That was before the ehhhhpic rainstorm that almost ran us off the road 12 times in St. Louis at 5am the next morning.)
The actual game aside, it was a lovely game day experience, and Howard's Rock was the main attraction. From the decibels involved to the slight fear of the most incredible domino effect in sports (my question at the time: "Do they do this even when it's raining?"), the tradition lived up to the hype.