On Saturdays we practiced across the street from Jim Fitts' house. This was a grassy plot about twelve feet wide, and bounded by the street and a hog-wire fence.
Fitts was
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pretty hard to catch in an open field, but we could contain him rather well down there. The street
was out of bounds, and the wire fence helped us hem him on the other side. In fact, we just blocked him into it,
and let the clothes rip and buttons fall where they would.
While I am talking football, let me tell you of my first experience with the game in Dallas.
Vandy and University of Texas had a series going and Coach Dan McGugin brought his team to Dallas in 1923. Bomar was Vandy's
huge end, a returning all-American from the previous year. Because of him and other fine players, Vandy was a big
favorite to win. The site of the game was the huge wooden bowl on the Fair Grounds, seating capacity 12,000!
Pop had given you and me $5.00 each for our move to Dallas. Mine had been spent, but Mom still
had yours. I just had to see the game, and after two hours of wrangling, I got your $5-bill, and headed for the
stadium.
Tickets were $2.50, but when I got there they were all gone. Finally, some kind-hearted gentlemen,
and I wondered why he kept looking over his shoulder, offered me one for my Lincoln bill, after determining that
was all I had. My lack of sales resistance here first reared its ugly head, and I went into the stadium to see
my beloved Vandy beat the hell out of those up-start Longhorns. I still feel that way, as you know.
But it had a different ending. An unbranded steer by the name of Oscar
Eckhardt stampeded through and around Mr. Bomar et al, and almost gored them right out of the stadium. Final score: Texas 16; Vanderbilt - 0.
On the way home, my sorrow was alleviated somewhat by thoughts of next year's game, particularly
the financial opportunity it would afford me. All I had to do was save my money and buy as many of those $2.50
tickets as I could. Then, I could re-sell them to the suckers for $5.00 -- maybe $6.00, and I would be well on
my way to fiscal success.
Oh! Well! It was a darn good idea.
So much for football. Next, I'll tell you about our basketball program.
We played on an outdoor court just south of the school building. Practice time was the lunch
hour. No wonder we all kept so trim!
Our dressing room was in a frame cottage some 200 yards from the main building. Miss Omah taught music in one room and I think they had a course in home economics
in another.
Our room was on the second floor. We had no heat and no water. After a noon scrimmage, we just
changed back into out school clothes and went back to class. Sounds pretty tough, eh? Believe me, it was.
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The first team consisted of Capt. Jim Fitts
and Harris Cantrell at forwards; Walton
Lawson at center; and Walker (Chuck) Paris
and Woodfin Vaughn at guards; Huston
Webb was top substitute -- our sixth man we would call him today.
The second team was Buh Hooper, Lit Cantrell, Harold (Porky) Craddodck,
Roy Conger, and I. In practice games, I usually tried to guard Jim
Morgan, and hung around his neck so closely I expected him to bop me every day.
Our first game was with Dowelltown and we won. The second was against McMinnville, and they
beat us. Then we went to Temperance Hall and won. I somehow have a fairly clear picture of their school building
and the basketball court along side it, all on top of a high hill.
These Games got the season off to a good start. We practiced hard and played the "town
boys" as often as we could. We rarely had much trouble with those fatties.
We were working toward the state tournament in Murfreesboro, and to help get in shape we scheduled
a series with Shop Springs. We played on their court after a hard rain and the mud was pretty deep. The ball stuck
and the mud flew, and we slipped and slid to a 12 to 8 victory. A game and a score like that are hard to forget.
We concluded our series in the Cumberland gym at Lebanon. In the very dark corners of my memory,
I can see a cavernous room with dim lights and a hard wood floor. This was the first time we had played indoors,
and we were embarrassed by the tricks our feet played on us. Several of the girls were there cheering us on, but
even that was not enough. Shop Springs won by a small margin.
This set the stage for our trip to Murfreesboro. Middle Tennessee State normally was host for
teams from all parts of the state. We were quartered in something like Gramey or Grady Cottage, and were comfortable,
though crowded. Porky Craddock tried to set the place on fire
by hanging his clothes on the light fixtures.
We ate in the college dinning room. The food was good, as was the service in a hectic sort of
way. Professor Jernigan was run over by a pretty young waitress,
but didn't seem to mind. She was hastening to the kitchen to get more food for Professor
Woods, Who couldn't seem to get filled up. Another highlight was the time Chuck Paris got the syrup and vinegar pitchers mixed up. Sour pancakes? Whew!
And he ate them, out of embarrassment!
As for basketball, there is not much to be said. We met Normandy High in the first round, and
again, those slick boards were our undoing. The large crowd didn't help us, and we missed Huston
Webb, who had recently departed for some Yankee city. Then, too, you might say that Normandy
just had a better team -- they almost doubled the score on us. Neither team made many points.
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We stayed around, and saw some pretty good basketball games. As I recall, the team from Decherd,
a little town near Chattanooga, won the tournament. I remember them as a slick, fast, good ball-handling team which
played a whole lot like the boys play today. They had a smallish forward with slick black hair who could run, dribble
and pop that basket.
Porky and I palled around quite a bit, and we sneaked off during
the tournament for some downtown entertainment. This may have included a movie or two, but was mostly pool hall
activity.
On one of these downtown trips, I found myself needing the bathroom. A nearby filling station
provided satisfactory but strange facilities. I was not inherently stupid, just ignorant about so many things.
My native intelligence told me the tank on the wall over my head had something to do with it,
and that the chain attached thereto must play an important part.
After a couple of minutes of considerable trepidation, I reached up and yanked hard on the chain,
and all hell broke loose! The roar of rushing water lasted a long time, it seemed; then, finally, all was still.
Hoping against hope that I hadn't ruined that city contraption, I eased out the door, saw all
was clear, and vacated the neighborhood as soon as I could get Porky in tow. I didn't go back to check on possible
damage.
Good old Porky! All legs and arms, a wide,
infectious grin and a generous crop of adolescent pimples. How I would love to see him!
That same spring we had our first track meet. The field was the town end of College Street,
beginning at the Staley residence corner, and extending south
to the Cumberland Presbyterian Church. Traffic was re-routed for the duration.
The 100-yard dash was the principal event. Some one stepped off the appropriate distance, and
strung the tape in front of Alvin Conger's gate.
Professor Woods was the major domo and stood
at the starting line to give the "Go" signal.
They ran three heats, as I recall. Jim Fitts
won his heat, as expected, and I believe Harris Cantrell won
the second. The third was won by a new boy from West End; we hardly knew he was in school.
The three lined up for the finals. Professor Woods shouted "Go"! and off they went. Jim Morgan
came off the starting line like a shot. His short muscular legs created a blur of
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movement as he pulled away from the other two. Halfway through, he was a good four strides in
the lead, and he broke the tape perhaps ten yards ahead. Harris
and the other boy finished in a tie.
There also was some broad jump competition where soft sand had accumulated between the street
and the gully. It was not too conclusive.
We didn't try the 440. That would have carried us to Mr. Pleas Crowley's place.
I never saw Jim Morgan run under proper conditions,
but I have an idea he could have done a 9.8 maybe better with spikes on a good track. Perhaps he had that opportunity
at Cumberland.
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