FAVORITE SPORTS STORY

Carl Goerch began publishing a magazine about North Carolina called “The State” in 1933. As a young boy, I enjoyed reading the magazine each month when it arrived in the mail. Though few articles had much interest for me, I always turned to the publisher’s page entitled “Funny Experiences.”

Likewise I read the weekly state denominational magazine because it had a regular page called “Spice Box” with humor. Come to think of it, other magazines, like Saturday Evening Post and Reader’s Digest, first attracted me as a boy by their humor sections. I hope publishers still use this ploy to gain young readers!

In the preface to his monthly page in the July 1, 1965 edition of “The State” Goerch noted that sometimes he came across a story that has nothing whatsoever to do with humor but which has special appeal from his point of view.

Below is one of the stories he shared in that edition that made a big, lasting impression on me. In recent years I have read various renditions of this story, some with the “facts’ vastly different. Since Goerch cited his friend, Bennett Cerf (co-founder and president of Random House), as his source, I think this version most likely to be accurate.

Lou Little was head football coach at Columbia University. Prior to that, he held a similar post at Georgetown. One year there was a youngster on the squad who was no great shakes as a football player, but whose personality served as a morale booster for the whole team. Little was deeply fond of the boy. He liked the proud way he walked arm in arm with his father on the campus from time to time. If the team was far enough ahead, he even let him get into a game occasionally for the last few minutes of play.

One day, about a week before the big finale with Fordham, the boy’s mother called Lou on the phone. “My husband died this morning of a heart attack,” she said. “Will you please break the news to my boy? He’ll take it better if it comes from you.”

Little did what was necessary, and the boy went home sorrowfully.

He was back three days later, and came straight to Lou Little. “Coach,” he begged, “I want to say something to you that means an awful lot to me. I want to start in that game against Fordham. I think it’s what my father would have liked most.”
Little hesitated and then agreed. “O.K. son, you’ll start; but you’ll only be in there for a play or two. You aren’t quite good enough, and you know it.”

True to this word, Little started the boy — but never took him out. For sixty full, jarring minutes, he played inspired football, running, blocking and passing like an All-American, and sparking the team to victory.

Back in the clubhouse, Little threw his arm around the boy’s shoulder and said, “Son, you were terrific today. You stayed in because you belonged there. What got into you?”

The boy answered, “Remember how my father and I used to go about, arm in arm? There was something abut him very few people knew. My father was totally blind. This afternoon was the first time he ever saw me play.”