Bye, Bye, Backfield!

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Spring around the Mideastern campus, especially during Easter vacation, is something the Army would invade with weasels, so on this fine Easter of 1949, as with every other year I’ve been on the Mideastern squad, we had borrowed, for two weeks, the facilities of little Grandon College in Florida, a state even the Army couldn’t spoil.

I was stretched out on my bunk in the borrowed dormitory when the other three members of the backfield came in.

“You people remembered to bring your press clippings?” I asked.

Big Charlie Western, the fullback, turned to Sancho Sanchenelli, our fleet left half and said, “Shall we bust a leg off this porky little mastermind?”

“Leave us not quarrel among ourselves,” Bus Mulligan, the burly redheaded right half said. “This, gentlemen, is a council of war.”

And so it was. You know how Mideastern did last year. We smashed the Ivy League, broke the hearts of our two Big Ten guests and piled up a lopsided score in the bowl game.

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