Pulp - Thrilling Sports.40.11.Baldy Simmons Goes Rose Bowl - Jack Kofoed (pdf)

Thrilling Sports, November, 1940

BALDY SIMMONS GOES ROSE BOWL By JACK KOFOED Author of “Ninth Inning Stuff,” “Dynamite In It,” etc.

It’s a Big Jump From the Squared Circle of Grunt and Groan to the Gridiron—But It’s Worth It!

N

OW Baldy Simmons, as everybody knows, is softer hearted than an Australian jack rabbit. He feels sorry for everybody who is out of luck—and an attribute like this keeps many a richer man than Mr. Simmons broke. He is the easiest touch in the world for a hard luck story—even vague signs of sadness bring out the mother instinct in him. Baldy never finds out there is a limit

to what people can do to help others. He is always in there swinging at old man gloom—bless his soul! Just before Christmas time, maybe a couple of weeks or so before the merry bells begin to peal, Baldy is down in Mississippi with a wrestler whom he calls the Fragrant Finn. Of course, the wrestler is really a baloney peddler named Heinrich Schmitz, from Marcus Hook,

THRILLING SPORTS Pennsylvania, but there is a vast sympathy for the Finns throughout the land, and Baldy figures it’s a sin and a shame to pass up such an opportunity. So he shelves the Rapacious Russian and the Gargantuan German, and travels through the provinces with this imitation Finn of his—and does very well. Well, while in the college town of Quitchville, Heinrich breaks a collar and returns to Marcus Hook to await its mending. Baldy decides he will relax for a few days, since it is a charming spot, and in addition is the site of the University of Quitchville, which is invited to the Rose Bowl to play on New Year’s Day. Mr. Simmons has gone through Yale—on a sight seeing tour—but this is the closest he comes to higher education. However, he likes football very much, and spends no little time watching the Quitchville boys practice. He even becomes acquainted with some of them in the corner drugstore, where they come to chew the fat over coke-and-lemon. Everybody is tickled to death that the University of Quitchville gets the Rose Bowl bid. They cinch it on the last day of the season when Quarterback Mossell scores a touchdown against Robert E. Lee University. “This honor is well worth working for,” says Raftery O’Higgins, the third string quarterback one evening. Raftery is a handsome lad, who makes Clark Gable look like Boris Karloff in make-up, and is accompanied by the prettiest little queen anybody cares to lay eyes on. Her name is Denys Dewees, which must, under no account, be held against her. “The collegiate point of view,” says Baldy, “I find a little difficult to understand. I watch football players these many years, indeed back in the days when Ted Coy and Jim Thorpe have yet to use a

2

razor. All of them take a terrific going over. A fellow who comes out of a season with his arms, legs, and teeth is considered very lucky. And what do you get out of all this assault-and-battery?”

R

AFTERY squeezes Denys’ hand with one mitt, and reaches for his coke-and-lemon with the other. “It is no gag,” he says, “about dying for dear old Quitchville. This I do quite happily. College spirit is the cause of it all.” “But it does not pay off, does it?” asks Baldy. “If you mean in money, no,” answers Raftery O’Higgins. “It is a matter of spirit. Cash has nothing to do with it.” Mr. Simmons strokes his bald pate. “It hardly seems to me that this is so,” he says. “Considering they charge fivefifty a seat, it sounds much more material than spiritual to me. But after all a guy knows his own racket best, so who am I to argue?” “It is really true,” adds Denys, with an adoring glance at her hero. “Raftery fights for the glory of old Quitchville. It is his greatest hope to do something in the Rose Bowl that helps us beat the Californians.” “Even more,” says Raftery. “This is a chance to make myself really solid with my sweetie-pie’s old man. He thinks football is the finest thing in the world, next to the Republican Party. I run into considerable hard luck throughout the season with this injury and that, so I suffer on the sidelines. It annoys papa that his Denys does no better for herself than a third string quarterback. He points out he is much more in favor of Mossell, or even of Hubert St. George McNitch, who are both out there on the gridiron much more than I. Denys loves me in spite of my comparatively shallow record this season. Now, I am in shape again—and practically

BALDY SIMMONS GOES ROSE BOWL guarantee to do all right when I get into the game at Pasadena.” “I am sure of it,” says Denys. Thereupon they go on their way, looking so happy they do not care whether the moon is made of green cheese or not. But, next day there is a revision of sentiment. As is his custom, Baldy meets these two in the banana split parlor. Raftery’s chin is practically hanging to his knees, and Denys’ eyes look red with weeping. “What in the name of Pat O’Dea’s field goal is wrong now?” Mr. Simmons asks, indicating to the waiter that he is buying coke-and-lemon for the party. “They do not take Raftery to Pasadena with the team,” sobs the girl. “Neither he, nor a dozen other of the lads.” In practically a trice the situation is explained. While Quitchville University gets a guarantee of nearly one hundred thousand dollars for the game, a wave of economy suddenly strikes the trustees. They decide, in order to save money, that some fourteen members of the squad stay home, and listen to the game on the radio. “Now this,” exclaims Baldy Simmons,” is probably the cheapest thing I ever heard of. You spend the season getting collapsible knees and cracked collarbones doing your duty to alma mater, and in return she kicks you in the teeth.” Denys breaks in with a sob or two. “I cannot figure what to do with papa,” she says. “He is a very unreasonable old gentleman, and never forgives Raftery for not getting into the Rose Bowl, even though it is not Raftery’s fault. Our lives may well be ruined at this moment.” They hold hands, and look at each other so mournfully that their plight would touch even a harder heart than Baldy’s.

A

S has been said, Baldy is a pushover for a hard luck story. Besides, he

3

becomes very fond of these kids in the short time he knows them. It is clear that the issue is now up to him. “Do not worry,” he says. “Leave this up to me. In my time I handle prizefighters, wrestlers and lady animal trainers. It is queer, indeed, if I do not think out a way for you.” There is something very sincere and convincing about Baldy Simmons, so Raftery O’Higgins and Denys Dewees cheer up immediately. They take their nude-knobbed friend at his word, and practically go into an orgy of coke-andlemon to celebrate. But, their naive confidence only makes it tougher for Baldy. He has not the slightest idea of how to straighten this thing out. Making a plea to the trustees is nothing more or less than a waste of time. He sees this in their prune and pickle pusses. But it is equally clear that something must be done. Mr. Simmons does not give three hoots whether Quitchville wins or not. As a matter of fact, he prefers the University to be massacred about 80-to-0 after what it does to Raftery and his mates. But even this solves no problem for Raftery O’Higgins. Then, suddenly, the idea strikes him like a bolt from the blue, or a kiss from Hedy LaMarr. “The thing is practically in,” he says. “I am not as well equipped with dough as usual at this time of the year or I would take the whole unlucky fourteen out at my own expense. This is out of the question at the moment. However, Raftery, I take you along!” Young O’Higgins is a clear thinking lad. He appreciates no end this sign of generosity on Baldy’s part, but he says: “I do not see how my going there settles anything. Everybody in the Quitchville hierarchy, from the trustees to the coach, resent any interference with

THRILLING SPORTS their plans. Why, they will not even let me sit on the bench under such conditions.” “This I understand quite clearly,” agrees Baldy, “but you underestimate your uncle’s ingenuity. Come with me, and I guarantee you play in the Rose Bowl. What happens after you start, however, is strictly up to you. I cannot play football myself.” Raftery looks at Denys, and Denys looks at Raftery. Since it seems as though their romance is conked on the rocks of the Rose Bowl, there is nothing left for them to do but grab at any straw they see—though designating Baldy Simmons as a straw is like saying the Empire State Building is a hut. “Okay,” says Raftery O’Higgins. “When do we start.” “Tomorrow,” says Baldy Simmons, “and please remind me to send a telegram to the Fragrant Finn in Marcus Hook, Pennsylvania. I need him very badly.” Baldy warns the lovers to say nothing. Since the Christmas vacation is beginning, it is easy for Raftery to get away. But, Mr. Simmons’ plan calls for the utmost secrecy—and this is achieved.

T

HEY take off in a Pullman train next morning at eleven, with Denys waving good-by, and wishing them good luck. If Raftery O’Higgins does not play in the Rose Bowl, she sees herself minus a husband, because between them they do not have enough money for a roller coaster ride, let alone an adventure in connubial bliss. And it’s a cinch papa is not going to help the situation, unless Raftery turns into a Touchdown Johnny at the Rose Bowl. Papa is not to be fooled, either, by what goes on, since he is going to the Coast himself to watch the game. Well, Baldy and his boy friend get a room at the same hotel in Pasadena where the Quitchville team stays. And, an hour

4

after they get there Raftery runs into Coach Prunty in the lobby. Prunty looks as though he sees a ghost. “What do you do here?” he asks. “We do not bring you.” “No,” agrees young Mr. O’Higgins, “but there is nothing that says I cannot come at my own expense, is there?” The coach considers this for a moment, with a none too pleasant look on his face. “Look,” he says, “this puts us in an embarrassing position. The papers pan us for not taking fourteen substitutes. They find in this situation meat for their venomous typewriters. All I can say is, O’Higgins, stay away from us. I do not wish you even on the bench, because those crazy reporters give us more trouble if they see you.” “But coach,” protests Raftery, “I give my best all year. I work as hard as I can for dear old Quitchville. If I am not hurt I play a lot of good football for you. And now I am treated like a bum.” Prunty is disturbed. He is not a bad guy at heart, but has to protect his job. “Raftery,” he says, “I know all this. 1 know you are a hell-bending quarterback at your best, but 1 cannot use you. The trustees are no end disturbed about all our bad publicity. If you play, those nosey reporters bring it all up again. No, sir. If you see the Rose Bowl game it is from one of the fifty-fifty seats.” There wasn’t any argument. “That’s unfair. My future happiness depends on me getting into the game.” “Then,” says Coach Prunty, “I fear you suffer like Poland after the Nazi invasion. Nothing gets you into the game, and there is no need of discussing the matter further. I will not have you, if you are the last guy in the world.” He turns into the bar-room, doubtless to stiffen his courage with a chocolate ice-cream soda. Raftery O’Higgins goes back to his

BALDY SIMMONS GOES ROSE BOWL room, where Baldy Simmons sits discussing something with a man who is built like the west wing of a baronial mansion. Baldy introduces this man as Heinrich Schmitz, the Fragrant Finn. Raftery is not interested in this gentleman, even though he notices the fellow looks like he will make a good tackle.

“I

APPRECIATE all you do, Baldy,” he says, “but it is useless. I do not bomb my way into the Rose Bowl game with a fleet of Messerschmidts.” He explains what Coach Prunty says. “This means Darlington Dewees, Denys’ father, thumbs me out of competition. He makes up his mind he wants a Rose Bowl hero as his daughter’s husband.” “Take it easy,” says Baldy. “The situation is not settled yet by any manner of means. It’s not for your sake alone, Raftery. I go the limit for Denys, who is one of the sweetest little dishes I see in all my life. And, on top of this, the ingratitude of your alma mater burns me to the soul, and I am interested in putting the bee on Mr. Prunty and the trustees. I have the brains, and the Finn here, has the Brawn, so between us we do very well for ourselves.” Raftery does not understand. He knows a football team is like a little empire, with the coach as dictator—but a dictator only by the grace of the college officials. How Baldy Simmons can breeze into this tight chested group, and upset the apple cart, is beyond him. “All I ask,” says Baldy, “is that you keep yourself plainly in sight, yet have nothing to do with the boys.” “Right,” answers Mr. O’Higgins. “I obey you implicitly, though with comparatively little hope.” He does, too. In the days before the game he is around and about, very

5

handsome and a little sad. The fellows are all for him. They stop and tell him they think the whole deal smells up California, but they also tip him off to the fact that the trustees and Athletic Council and Mr. Prunty himself burn no end at his presence. Top Flight O’Leary, the Associated Press columnist, makes an issue of Quitchville University’s tightness, and paints a pathetic picture of the oft-injured O’Higgins, who is so loyal he comes all the way to California to see a game in which he is not allowed to play. “This does me no good at all,” says Raftery, “because they are determined now not to let me in under any conditions whatsoever.” He points this out to Baldy, but Mr. Simmons merely laughs. “There is one thing neither the trustees nor Mr. Prunty know anything about,” he says. “They do know that Mossell and McNitch are crazy about tuna fish.” Raftery stares, as though his friend goes suddenly insane. “Maybe I am nuts,” he says, “but where tuna comes into the Rose Bowl is where I go out.” “You have this kind of mixed up,” grins Baldy. “It’s where you go in. But, when they ask you to play, do not appear too anxious to say yes. Let ‘em beg you.” Raftery says he will, but it is quite evident he thinks Mr. Simmons is completely nuts.

W

ELL, New Year’s Day finally rolls around as New Year’s Days have a habit of doing, and still nothing happens. Baldy Simmons and Raftery have breakfast together, and the football player is lower than a snake’s instep. “Your plan, whatever it is, Baldy,” he says, “now runs for Sweeney. All I get out of this trip is a sight of the game, and a

THRILLING SPORTS broken heart. If I marry Denys it is against her father’s wishes, and this means we have nothing to live on but love, which is not very filling to the stomach.” But Mr. Simmons is quite gay and cheerful. “The trouble with you, Raftery,” he says, “is that you do not appreciate my talent for intrigue. Approximately five hours from now the game begins, and the chances are all in favor of you playing a part in it.” Raftery O’Higgins cannot believe this. It is much too fantastic. But there is no sense arguing with a crazy man, so he says nothing. It is about eleven o’clock, and Raftery is sitting in the lobby thinking dolefully about Denys, and the general sadness of life, when Coach Prunty comes in and sits down next to him. Coach Prunty does not look as though he is very happy, either. “Raftery,” he says, “I will take it as a favor if you are in uniform this afternoon.” If Mr. O’Higgins has not been warned by the confidence expressed by Baldy Simmons, it is likely he falls to the floor in a dead faint. However, he holds himself together, and says: “You tell me several times that you rather have eczema and phlebitis in your backfield than me.” Prunty sighs. “Conditions change,” he says. “This is your chance to do a good deed for Quitchville. I know you are full to the gills with good old college spirit.” “After what Quitchville does to me, the argument seems a little sour.” “In spite of this you got to play.” Everything is turning out exactly as Baldy Simmons says it does, and since the man seems to be a magician, Raftery decides to follow through and be hard to get. He pretends he is fed up with the game, but finally compromises. “Tell me what happens,” he says, “and

6

then maybe I play for you.” “All right,” says Prunty, “if I must I must. Mossell and McNitch disappear yesterday afternoon, and up until this moment no one knows where they are. Everybody, including the police and FBI look for them, but without success.” Mossell and McNitch are the first and second string quarterbacks. “So now you see,” continues Coach Prunty, “why we must have you.” Suddenly the light dawns on Raftery O’Higgins. He sees it all as clearly as though the whole thing happens before his eyes. The appearance of the Fragrant Finn—the reference to tuna—the disappearance of Mossell and McNitch! The Finn takes these two on a fishing trip—and does something to the motor so they cannot return! While the Rose Bowl game is played, the heroes bob about on the bosom of the Pacific. And Quitchville now really needs the fellow they originally leave behind them. Raftery O’Higgins rises, and squares his shoulders. “Mr. Prunty,” he says, “I do as you request.”

A

T two o’clock in the afternoon, the Quitchville team trots out on the green grass of the Rose Bowl, and Raftery O’Higgins is in at quarterback. This causes immense surprise among the spectators and working press, for the disappearance of the other backfield men is very much of a secret. But Raftery is stirred to the depths of his soul at this chance to play for his dear old alma mater and prove to Mr. Dewees he is a good enough footballer to marry Denys. Now it happens that this O’Higgins person is really much better than Baldy Simmons imagines. He not only has the ability, but is upborne by a flame. Naturally enough, since what he does this

BALDY SIMMONS GOES ROSE BOWL afternoon makes a hell of a difference to his future. Baldy has an idea the guy is soso, and he helps him purely out of the goodness of his heart. But, once the whistle blows, he sees how wrong he is. The game is a pip from the very start. The Californians are big and fast. They have a running attack that acts like one of those French seventy ton tanks. They go into the air like Rickenbacker on a raid over the lines. Their blocking and tackling is something to go miles to see. But Quitchville is no pushover. They fight hard, and one of the best fighters of all is Raftery O’Higgins. He is a bullet on the offense and a block of granite on the defense. He really shows now what he could do through the year if he is not hamstrung with injuries. In spite of his tremendous efforts, though, the Californians push over a touchdown, and at the end of the half lead 6-to-0. It is a very narrow squeak. They have first down on the three-inch line, and three times Raftery himself throws back the runner, but on the last try, with only seconds left, they shove across. All the talk in the stands between halves is about Raftery O’Higgins. Here is romance and drama in capital letters. He is not even brought along with the team, but travels at his own expense. Now, he is the best man on the field, and even a guy who knows nothing about football can see it with half an eye. Mr. Dewees, who is sitting in a box, shouting his head off, sends a note to the dressing-room that says: “If you still want to marry Denys when we get back to Quitchville, you have my blessing, and I always say that I give my son-in-law a hundred thousand dollars for a wedding present.” Naturally, this sends Raftery into seventh heaven. There is only one thing needed to make the day complete. This is

7

to win the Rose Bowl game for Quitchville. Even after what the university does to him, he loves it better than anything in the world except Denys. He puts on a pep talk that would make fighters of inhabitants of the Indigent Home for the Aged. Not even a coach as old as Alonzo Stagg even hears anything like it, and since the Quitchville boys are not made of asbestos, they go up like a turpentine torch. They charge out, roaring for blood.

B

UT, the Californians are not overwhelmed. They are three deep in every position, and each man who comes in seems to be bigger and faster than the one who goes out. O’Higgins, still playing like an inspired madman, is beginning to get tired. After all, in games like this there are mighty few guys able to go sixty minutes. But Coach Prunty can offer no help, because he has no other signal caller to send in. Besides, Raftery is doing so well that he is practically four players rolled into one. The minutes slip by much too fast. The third quarter is over, and half of the fourth, and still the Californians lead, 6-0. It looks like Quitchville, in spite of the All America performance of Raftery O’Higgins, is doomed to defeat, to coin a phrase. All along, the star of the battle is so wrapped up in trying to win the game that he forgets about the man who makes his presence here possible. Then, suddenly, a thought occurs to the quarterback. His brightest desires are made possible by none other than Baldy Simmons. If not for Baldy, he would be sitting by the radio in Quitchville at this very moment. “It is a cinch,” says Raftery to himself, “that Baldy has a big bet on us. He helps Denys and me out of the goodness of his

THRILLING SPORTS heart, but he is the type of man who backs his fancy with large sums. The only way I pay him back is by winning this ball game. Up to this moment, it does not seem that I do him any good.” There are only a few minutes to go. Quitchville has the ball on its own thirtyfive yard line. When they drop back into the huddle Raftery says: “These Californians are awful smart. They seem to know how to stop the trickiest plays we use. Maybe we get away with an old one. How about trying the Statue of Liberty?” “You’re nuts,” says Heflin, the center. “They smear it in a minute.” “Maybe so,” agrees O’Higgins, “but they smear our smart stuff. What have we to lose? Let’s go!” Now, the Statue of Liberty play is so old it qualifies for Social Security. A man fades to pass. As he draws back his arm another player races around behind him, and snatches the ball out of his hand. Somebody says it works in the days when Tom Hinkey is playing for Yale, but even nine year old lot players are no longer fooled by it any more. No self respecting coach will even admit having the play in his repertoire. The Quitchville team comes out of the huddle, and lines up. O’Higgins snaps out his signals. The ball is passed to Sinnaminson, who fades. The Californian defense spreads against a pass. Everything is set. It is quite apparent to everyone that the lads from the Cinema Slope cannot believe anyone is dumb enough to try the Statue of Liberty on them. Now, this frame of mind does them no good at all. Raftery snatches the ball and cuts through the center of the line, which is as wide open as the entrance to Grand Central Terminal. And he needs no more invitation than this. He is past the secondary before the

8

Californians even know what it is all about, and is running like the wind. One of the defensive backs comes tearing over, but Heflin takes him out with a flying block that is a beauty. Raftery moves out into the open, as though the FBI is after him.

T

HERE is no one between him and a touchdown but the safety man—but that safety man is All America, the best tackler on the West Coast. Up in the stands Baldy Simmons rises to his feet, and yells at the top of his voice in company with some hundred thousand other people. “Come on, you Raftery,” he yells, “come on, boy!” With the noise one hundred thousand other people are making, Raftery, of course, cannot hear this, but the echo of it in his heart makes him move even faster. By making the touchdown he figures he can partly pay back the man who does so much for him. In the twenty yards that lie between the flying O’Higgins and the Californian safety man, Baldy’s mind goes back over the job he does. It is comparatively simple. He does exactly as Raftery figures— getting the Fragrant Finn to sort of shanghai Mossell and McNitch. Perhaps it is a little hard on them, but they do not have as much at stake as Raftery O’Higgins, so Baldy has no scruples. Nobody puts the finger either on him or the Finn, because it is no criminal offense for a motor to go bad—even on the Pacific Ocean. The safety man is cutting in at lightning speed. If he catches Raftery, the chances are the Californians win the game, because there is little time left to play. Raftery flashes a look at the onrushing menace, and puts on a little more speed. But speed isn’t going to be enough, for the

BALDY SIMMONS GOES ROSE BOWL Californian makes Jesse Owens look like he is standing still. Then, as the fellow hurls himself forward in a tackle, the Quitchville ace switches his hips in the Red Grange manner. The Californian misses by a foot—and O’Higgins gallops the remaining distance for a touchdown! The score is tied. If the point is kicked—victory! If it’s missed, the game ends in a tie—but even then it is a moral victory for Quitchville and Raftery O’Higgins. No matter what happens, Raftery goes home a hero to his Denys and her papa. Raftery is going to try for the point himself. This is his final contribution to the man who gives him a break—as well as the college that doesn’t. In his heart is no thought of failure. The teams line up. The ball goes back. There is a plunk of a heavy shoe against the inflated oval—and the ball soars

9

between the uprights. Quitchville wins the Rose Bowl game! Baldy stops his yelling, and sits down. He takes out a handkerchief, and wipes the sweat off his excited red face. His knees feel very weak. Then suddenly, he says to himself: “Why am I cheering? I fix Raftery and Denys up right—but look at what I do to myself? I figure that with those two quarterbacks out, the Californians are sure to win—and I bet the bankroll on them. How can I tell Raftery is just as good as Denys says he is? All I have left is the return ticket to Quitchville. I’ll have to get the Fragrant Finn some matches right away, or neither of us will eat!” But he never tells Mr. and Mrs. O’Higgins that — and Raftery thinks to his dying day he won a lot of dough for Baldy Simmons with that seventy yard run of his!