Your readers should bear in mind that a champion in civilian life might easily be a complete drawback in action. A punctured eardrum, for instance, may appear to be a trivial physical defect, which, under ordinary circumstances, no one will question; but when the punctured eardrum is considered in terms of front line action, the medical approach must be different. If we could be certain the enemy would refrain from using poison gas, a punctured eardrum would not be looked upon as a serious defect—but how can our authorities be certain of the enemy’s intentions? Subjected to a gas attack, a man with a punctured eardrum couldn’t hope to survive serious and possibly fatal damage to his brain. Thus right off he would be a detriment to his outfit.
Grantland Rice also counseled his readers to go easy on 4-F athletes. He wrote,
It is only natural that a lot of non-athletes, clerks, filling station attendants, soda water jerkers, farm kids, etc., who can neither run nor jump, block or tackle … should gripe, after a fashion, because they are rated fit to be fighting men—with athletes left out, rated as unfit to fire a gun or work on a ship. But they should remember these are Army and Navy regulations through the draft. The individual has nothing to say about it.
Complicated emotions surrounded life as a 4-F athlete. While they were sometimes vilified, the public, paradoxically, consistently supported the continuation of sports. In a poll conducted by Esquire magazine, 80 percent of all respondents said they wanted to keep sports running during the war. When the magazine polled soldiers, the results were even more overwhelming: 96.5 percent supported sports. Servicemen were philosophical about 4-F athletes.
“One time I was having a couple drinks with a soldier,” said Vic Sears. “I said, ‘Do you wonder why I’m not in the service? Strong, healthy, plays football?’ He says, ‘I know you got a helluva reason or you’d be in.’”
Although President Roosevelt never publicly proclaimed his support for professional football (as he had for major league baseball), the sport had its defenders in the highest reaches of the government. On June 23, 1943, Senator James M. Mead of New York went on record in favor of continuing sports as “part of the American way of life and unless they affect the war effort adversely…. Both professional baseball and football furnish recreation and relaxation for thousands of war workers and servicemen and women…. From the spectator and the competitor standpoint they are an integral part of the war effort. In addition to the morale features, sports events of all kinds have stimulated the sales of war bonds and have raised funds for the Army and Navy relief societies and Red Cross.” (It should be noted that Mead held stock in the Buffalo Bisons minor league baseball team.)
But pro football’s biggest fan in Congress by far was Samuel A. Weiss, a Democratic representative from Pittsburgh who, on Sundays, officiated National Football League games.
Born in Poland in 1902, Weiss was not yet two years old when his family emigrated to the United States and settled in Glassport, Pennsylvania, just outside Pittsburgh. At Duquesne University, Weiss tried out for the football team. Although he stood just five-four and weighed only 145 pounds, he became the starting quarterback. In 1924, his senior year, he was voted team captain, an unprecedented honor for a Jew at the Catholic school. After college Weiss played two seasons for his hometown’s highly regarded and wonderfully named semipro team, the Glassport Odds. Then he went back to Duquesne, earned a law degree, and in 1935 was elected to the Pennsylvania House. Five years later he won a seat in the U.S. House. Weiss had refereed high school games in Pittsburgh and he wished to continue refereeing after his ascension to Washington. He approached Elmer Layden about the possibility of officiating National Football League games on Sundays. The commissioner, thrilled at the prospect of such a powerful political connection, not only made Weiss a referee, he also appointed him deputy commissioner. Beginning in 1942, Weiss’s name regularly appeared in NFL box scores.
Weiss lobbied relentlessly for the preservation of professional football and other sports. He liked to point out that the British had not abandoned their spectator sports. On April 17, 1943, 105,000 fans packed Hampden Park in Glasgow to watch England beat Scotland, 4-0, in an international soccer match. A week later, crowds of 50,000 or more filled four different stadiums in London to watch League Cup matches, including 54,000 at the historic Stamford Bridge stadium, where Arsenal whipped Queen’s Park Rangers, 4-1.
“If the British who are within a half hour of the real danger of the Luftwaffe can enjoy a soccer-football game,” he asked rhetorically of those who opposed sports, “for goodness sake what has happened to the good old U.S.A.?” In the spring of 1943 Weiss beseeched President Roosevelt to appoint a “sports czar” to ensure the continuation of sports without hampering the war effort. He told the president that the “boys out there in the jungles and in the foxholes” wanted sports to continue.
“I’ve had letters from lads out there—in the steaming jungles of Guadalcanal and New Guinea—who plead for the continuation of sports,” Weiss said. “Their greatest joy is a shortwave broadcast or a six-weeks-old newspaper with news of some sporting event.”
Roosevelt was not unsympathetic. One of his top aides, Marvin McIntyre, agreed that some sort of “declaration of policy” was in order. But the proposal seems to have been quashed by Paul McNutt, the head of the War Manpower Commission. McNutt feared a sports czar would encroach on his turf. Roosevelt was having a hard enough time keeping McNutt and Selective Service director Lewis Hershey from strangling each other; he didn’t need somebody else pissing in the soup. Besides, the president had much more important things to worry about.
On Sunday, November 28, Roosevelt, Churchill, and Stalin convened in Tehran, and the Steagles and the Redskins staged their rematch in Washington. The results of the former meeting, at which the future conduct of the war was outlined, are still much disputed. The results of the latter meeting, though, are incontrovertible.
12
Survival
AS THEY PREPARED TO MEET THE STEAGLES AGAIN, the Redskins had more than revenge on their minds. If they won the game, they would clinch the Eastern Division, rendering inconsequential their final two regular season games against the Giants. That essentially would give them three weeks off until the championship game on December 19. Sammy Baugh, Washington’s sensational passer, was still nursing a toothache and a bruised knee, but he considered a win so imperative that he was determined to play all 60 minutes.
The Steagles were motivated too. They were aroused by the possibility—however remote—of finishing first in the Eastern Division. If they beat the Redskins this week and the Packers next—and if the Giants beat the Redskins next week and again the week after that—the Steagles and Redskins would finish the season with identical 6-3-1 records, necessitating a playoff for the division title. (The Giants also had a shot at finishing 6-3-1.) The Pittsburgh Press’s Cecil Muldoon said the Steagles had “about as much chance of winning the Eastern Division title as a Republican has of being governor of Mississippi.” (The Magnolia State hadn’t had a Republican in the governor’s mansion since Reconstruction and wouldn’t have another until Kirk Fordice was elected in 1991.) But in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Jack Sell was more optimistic, saying, “[W]here there’s life there’s hope.”
And then there was the Zimmerman factor. Sammy Baugh’s erstwhile backup would be making his first appearance in Washington since Redskins owner George Preston Marshall shipped him to Philadelphia the previous August. Zimmerman’s feud with Marshall had not abated.
“Zimmerman would call it his happiest day in football if he could beat the Redskins in Washington,” wrote Merrell Whittlesey in the Washington Post. When asked if he regretted trading Zimmerman, Marshall said of course not. Since their much publicized animosity was largely responsible for a record crowd in Philadelphia and would help make the rematch in Washington a sellout, Marshall insisted that the “loss of Zimmerman has been a good investment.” It was an excellent example of Marshallian logic.
O
n Saturday afternoon the Steagles went through a light workout at Shibe Park, then headed en masse to North Philadelphia station, where they boarded a train for Washington. Normally the team wouldn’t have stayed overnight in the capital, but Greasy Neale and Walt Kiesling considered this game important enough to justify the expense. The team stayed at the Willard Hotel on, appropriately enough, Pennsylvania Avenue. In Suite 301 that night, Lex Thompson hosted a small party. Lieutenant Thompson, who seems to have had a supernatural ability to secure furloughs to watch his team play, said he was “certain” the Steagles would win the next day, and Neale and Kiesling agreed—they said they “fully expected the Redskins to be pushed over.” Their opinion was not shared by the bookies: the Steagles were 14-point underdogs. After all, they had not yet won a game away from their two homes, getting crushed by the Bears in Chicago and the Giants in New York, and embarrassed by the Dodgers in Brooklyn. And the Redskins were coming off their stunning 21-7 vanquishing of the Bears. On the morning of the game, Merrell Whittlesey confidently predicted in the Washington Post, “Anything but a Redskin victory with two touchdowns to spare seems highly unlikely today.”
The game kicked off at 2:00 p.m. and Griffith Stadium was indeed sold out. Among the crowd of 35,826 were a few hundred Philadelphians and even a smattering of Pittsburghers. The sun was shining and the air was clear. The pleasant aroma of fresh-baked bread wafted over the ballpark from the Bond Bakery just up Georgia Avenue. But baking bread was not what the men on the field had in mind.
The game was scoreless until the penultimate play of the first quarter, when Steagles halfback Bobby Thurbon burst through a hole at right tackle “like a shot out of a cannon” and scored on a seven-yard run. Incredibly, it was the first rushing touchdown surrendered by the Redskins all season. Until then, their opponents had scored only on passes, kicks, and returns. Zimmerman added the extra point to make it 7-0.
In order to beat the Redskins, Greasy Neale knew the Steagles would have to play flawlessly. That’s what he’d told them all week. So when Jack Hinkle missed a block in the second quarter, Neale yanked him from the game. Hinkle, who had rushed for more than 100 yards against the Lions a week earlier and was on his way to rushing for 100 more on this day, was incredulous.
“Why didn’t you take that man out?” Neale barked when Hinkle reached the sideline.
“But Greasy, I wasn’t supposed to take that man out—or was I?”
“Of all the …” Neale began before switching gears. “How do you manage to remember what you’re supposed to do at that factory you work in? How does your boss stand you around without suffering a nervous breakdown?”
After a minute all was forgiven and Hinkle returned to the game.
As they had in their first encounter, the Steagles ambushed Sammy Baugh at every opportunity. He was “smeared several times” in the first half and forced to hurry many passes. It was also apparent that his knee was still bothering him, and on several occasions he was relieved by George Cafego, the hero of the Bears game.
The Steagles went ahead 14-0 in the middle of the third quarter when Bobby Thurbon scored again, this time on a four-yard run. The touchdown culminated a dazzling, 62-yard drive during which the Steagles executed the T to perfection, mixing runs and passes over 13 plays and thoroughly befuddling the Redskins, whose frustration was rising to dangerous levels.
When the Redskins got the ball back, Sammy Baugh uncorked a long pass to Bob Masterson, who was tackled near midfield by Ray Graves. Redskins tackle “Wee” Willie Wilkin (who was six-four, 265 pounds) objected to the vigor with which Graves wrestled Masterson to the ground. Wilkin jumped on the prostrate Graves, kneeing him in the ribs. Steagle Ben Kish rushed to his teammate’s defense and threw a punch at Wilkin. Redskins guard Clyde Shugart joined the fracas, though he later claimed he was merely trying to separate Wilkin and Kish. Players from both teams converged on the scene and exchanged angry words. Hoots and hollers and not a few empty bottles rained from the stands. The hostilities threatened to explode into a full-scale brawl. Miraculously, referee Carl Rebele was able to restore order. Wilkin, Kish, and Shugart were ejected.
“What happened was all Wilkin’s fault,” Shirley Povich wrote in the Washington Post two days later. “Graves of the Steagles had just tackled Bob Masterson on a pass play. There didn’t seem to be anything vicious about it. The whistle had blown, the play was long since over, when 265-pound Wilkin came galloping up to pile on. It was uncalled for, and so Kish, who was standing by, took a poke at Wilkin that was almost justifiable.”
Ultimately the Steagles profited from the altercation. The ejections of Wilkin and Shugart weakened an already dispirited Redskins line. Kish was a good running back, but the Steagles had plenty of those. The league coffers profited, too: an ejection carried an automatic $50 fine. Kish later appealed his fine to Elmer Layden, claiming he’d done nothing more than “push” Wilkin, but the commissioner was unmoved.
Shortly after the fight, the Redskins blocked a Zimmerman punt and recovered the ball on the Steagles 33. That led to a four-yard touchdown pass from Baugh to Masterson, making the score 14-7. Five minutes into the final period the Redskins had the ball and were driving for the tying touchdown when Zimmerman intercepted a Baugh pass on the Steagles 32. Seven plays later halfback Ernie Steele took the snap directly from center, busted through “a hole a mile wide being opened by the Steagle line,” and sprinted 47 yards for a touchdown. Zimmerman’s extra point was blocked.
Andy Farkas received the ensuing kickoff on the five but was immediately smothered by a swarm of Steagles. Pinned deep in his own end, Baugh attempted one of his famous “quick kicks” on second down. It was supposed to put the Steagles on their heels. It didn’t. Vic Sears bolted through a crack in the Redskins line and blocked the punt. Tom Miller recovered the ball on the one. On the next play Jack Hinkle waltzed into the end zone untouched, extending the Steagles lead to 27-7.
With five minutes remaining in the game, George Cafego, temporarily substituting for Baugh, threw a 37-yard strike to Frank Seno on the Steagles 12. As Baugh trotted back onto the field to reclaim his position, he was, for the first time in Griffith Stadium, booed. A “thoughtless jeer,” the Washington Post called it. “The people booed Babe Ruth, too,” wrote Shirley Povich, who also offered an alternate explanation for the fans’ outburst: “You could read into their boos a deep compliment to Cafego.”
It didn’t take Baugh long to silence the boobirds. On the very next play he threw a touchdown pass to Joe Aguirre.
With the final seconds ticking down and the Redskins trailing 27-14, Baugh tossed a long pass to Andy Farkas around the Steagles five. Ernie Steele, playing defensive back for the Steagles, intentionally let Farkas catch the ball, then tackled him.
“I knew if I batted down the pass, that would stop the clock,” explained Steele, who lay on top of Farkas until the hands of the giant Longines clock in right-centerfield finally came to rest on zero. Linesman Charley Berry fired his starter pistol and the game was over.
It was the Redskins’ first loss in more than a year, and their first at the hands of a team from Philadelphia or Pittsburgh since 1937. It was by far the biggest upset of the season. The Inquirer called it an “almost unbelievable” win for the Steagles. Once again it was the line that made the difference: the Steagles outrushed the Redskins 297-58. Jack Hinkle alone rushed for 117 yards, moving him into second place among the league leaders. Johnny Butler rushed for 36, good enough to maintain fourth place. It wasn’t the flawless performance that Greasy Neale had hoped for: the Steagles fumbled four times, and Roy Zimmerman was far from perfect, completing just four of ten passes for 44 yards and no touchdowns. But Zimmerman, who played all but five minutes, managed the offense brilliantly and played stellar defense as well. Late in the game, as Sammy Baugh was leaving the field, Zimmerman had rushed over to shake his hand. It was a gracious gesture by the former pupil who, on this day at least, had bested the master, and the crowd applauded appreciativ
ely.
“It was the happiest day of my life,” Zimmerman said after the game, just as Merrell Whittlesey had predicted he would. Zimmerman added that he “didn’t have any grudge against the swell guys on the Redskins, but I got even with one man”—George Preston Marshall.
The Redskins did even the score on one count: the body count. This time it was the Steagles who took a beating. Johnny Butler’s thumb was broken when a Redskin stepped on his hand. Tony Bova lost two teeth. Bobby Thurbon’s lower lip was busted open, and four stitches were required to mend it. Ray Graves, of course, had very sore ribs. Winning, however, was a potent balm.
“What a ball game!” exulted Bert Bell the day after. Looking ahead to the season finale against Green Bay the following Sunday at Shibe Park, Bell admitted it wouldn’t be easy to stop the Packers’ star receiver, Don Hutson.
“Still,” Bell said, “we stopped Baugh. Maybe we can pull up with the answer for Hutson…. Be a funny thing, wouldn’t it, if we would stop Hutson and knock off Green Bay Sunday and the Giants could beat Washington twice and let the Steagles tie for the Eastern title. It would be a very funny thing. That George Marshall would be fit to be tied. I would love to see that. I sure would.”
The Giants had stayed in the race by defeating the Dodgers at the Polo Grounds, 24-7. Rookie Bill Paschal, who was coming on strong late in the season, scored two touchdowns for the Giants and rushed for 69 yards, moving him into tenth place among the leading rushers.
The Eastern Division standings were in turmoil. Since the Giants still had to play the Redskins twice, there was now the possibility of a three-way tie for first, if the Steagles beat the Packers and the Giants took both games from the Redskins. That would force the first three-team playoff in league history. Just about all that was certain was that the eventual winner of the division would meet the Bears in the championship game. The Bears had clinched the West by beating the Cardinals, 35-24. Now things were getting interesting:
Last Team Standing Page 21
