Rise of the Dolphins

By Dave Morine

Doug Swift is without doubt one of the most interesting people ever to play in the NFL. From 1970-1975, Doug was the starting strongside linebacker for the Miami Dolphins and during his six-year career, he played in three Super Bowls, won two rings, and was a key member of the 1972 squad that to this day is the only team in the history of the NFL to post a perfect season. On paper, it would appear that Doug had no business playing professional football. He didn't have the right pedigree. He hadn't gone to a big-time football school like Alabama, Ohio State, Michigan, USC, Texas, or even Syracuse, the college team he grew up watching in his hometown. Instead, Doug went to little Amherst College which played an eight-game schedule in Division III with no playoffs. In addition to this lack of experience and training, for a professional football player Doug wasn't exceptionally big, fast, or "mobile, agile, and hostile" as Bear Bryant liked his players. So, how did Doug do it? He maintains that his success was due to a combination of discipline, determination, and doggedness, or as he is quick to note, "While I wasn't always the best, I made sure I was always the most determined."

In addition to being very determined, Doug was very smart and early in his football career developed the ability to sense what was going to happen before it happened, and then put himself in the right position for when it happened. With this unique feel for the game, it is no coincidence that Doug compiled one of the best, if not the best "games started/games won" ratio of anyone who ever played in the NFL for at least six years. As Coach Shula said when Doug announced his retirement, "Like a lot of guys who played on the "No- Name Defense," Doug never received the individual credit he deserved, but in retrospect, I can say that he was as smart, dedicated, and determined as any player I ever coached." Not too bad for a kid from little Amherst College.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9798887573038

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Prologue

Garo’s Funeral

"Ya gotto go. You don’t go to theirs, they

won’t come to yours."

— Yogi Berra on going to funerals

He looked good. His bald bean glowed, his little hands were folded neatly over his chest, a snappy tie was attached to his neck. Making snappy ties was among the many Yepremian family businesses and leave it to Garo to give the tie business one last plug. Garo was at peace with the angels, but right away Doug could see something was missing. Why wasn’t Garo wearing his Super Bowl VII and VIII rings? Could he have sold them? Garo was always looking for ways to make a buck.

Garo was Doug’s best pal among the Dolphin family. They had met at the Dolphins’ first training camp under their new head coach, Don Shula. Thanks to the Players Association’s 1970 strike against the NFL, Doug, as a rookie prospect, had been in camp for two weeks before the strike collapsed and the veterans reported. Once the veterans reported, all the rookies as expected moved to the bottom of the depth chart while the coaches started working with the veterans. Garo had come in with the veterans. Doug knew nothing about Garo, and it seemed neither did anyone else. At 5’8" and 165 lbs., players thought maybe Garo was the neighbor of one of the coaches and had been invited to join the first day activities as a lark. In fact, Garo was a place kicker and like the rookies, spent much of his time just hanging around on the periphery of the practice sessions. That hanging around gave Doug a chance to get to know Garo and Doug found him very entertaining. Garo spoke a hybrid-language of accented English, Armenian, Greek and French, and did a credible imitation of Ray Charles. Plus, as a foreigner Garo had picked up some interesting speech mannerisms, one of which had come from his drill instructor during Garo’s basic training for the National Guard.

In 1967, Garo had enlisted in the National Guard to help improve his chances for citizenship. Before issuing any orders to the recruits, the D.I. would bark out something like, What’s the population of Michigan? Then when nobody dared to answer, he’d say, Wrong! Give me fifty pushups - I want to thank you! Garo liked this ‘I want to thank you!’ expression and used it after many of his comments. For example, he might say, Miami is a very hot place to hold a training camp - I want to thank you! Doug remembered one time when Jimmy ‘Cadillac’ Keyes, a linebacker from Ole Miss who had a very strong southern drawl, asked Garo, Say, Gayro, you’re Armenian, right? and Garo answered, No, I’m from Transylvania - I want to thank you! Doug found that very amusing.

It turned out there were a lot of amusing stories about Garo. One of the better ones was about his debut with the Detroit Lions. Garo had never played a down of football when Harry Gilmer, the head coach of the Lions, hired him as a place-kicker. During Garo’s first game, he literally had to steer Garo on to the field for the opening kick-off. We lost the coin-toss! Gilmer said, Yepremian, get out there!! Whereupon Garo went onto the field and proceeded to scan the midfield turf actually looking for the ‘lost coin.’ Farfetched? Knowing Garo, maybe not.

Looking back on that story, Doug could feel some sympathy for Garo. Garo had been signed on a Thursday afternoon just before the Lions third game of the season. When it was announced he was becoming a Lion, Alex Karras, the Lions’ infamous tackle who was later suspended from the League along with Paul Hornung for betting on games, reluctantly allowed that it was okay for Garo to be on the team just as long as he didn’t have to shower next to him.

So much for a warm welcome from his new teammates. To make matters worse, Garo was issued his first football uniform ever on Sunday just before the game. It must have been a struggle for him to figure out how to put it on correctly, especially with no teammates willing to help. Doug could remember his own introduction to organized football and trying to figure out the equipment. There were shoulder pads, hip pads, thigh and knee pads that had to be shoved into the pockets of a pair of floppy pants, and then, of course, a helmet. When he got through, Doug had felt like his arms and legs were disconnected from his head. However, once suited-up, all Doug had to do was take the field in front of a handful of supportive parents and neighborhood well-wishers. Garo, on the other hand, took the field in front of a raucous, big-league crowd of 60,000. As he said, I was a stranger in a strange land - I want to thank you!

Garo Yepremian

When Garo died in the spring of 2015, Doug was the only Dolphin at his funeral. It was Doug’s honor to be there, and a greater honor to have been Garo’s friend of 40 years. Still, from a statistical point of view, Garo deserved a bigger, more portentous send-off. He was, after all, one of the greatest Dolphins ever. Not only was Garo the leading scorer for the Dolphins in 1971, but that year he also was the leading scorer for the entire NFL. One of those scores occurred on a cold, muddy Christmas day in Kansas City when Garo hit a 37-yard field goal in double overtime to end what is still the longest game in the history of the NFL. Plus, it was that kick that sent the Dolphins to the AFC Championship game, and subsequently to their first Super Bowl. Then in ‘72, Garo once again was the leading scorer for the Dolphins, and there’s no question that without his powerful left foot there never would have been the ‘Perfect Season.’

As Doug pondered Garo at rest, he couldn’t help but think if that was him posed in the casket, he too wouldn’t be looking up at any of his old teammates. During their time with the Dolphins, Garo and Doug had never reached the appearance-threshold of what a professional football player should be. Doug represented the counter-culture from a Division III college somewhere up north and Garo was the diminutive foreigner who didn’t know much about football. Such being the case, many Dolphin teammates had good-naturedly cast them as a pair of oddballs from a different world. Still, looking at Garo, when his time came Doug hoped he’d have his rings on.

Maritza and Garo

So where were Garo’s rings? When Doug asked Maritza, Garo’s wife, what had happened to them, he learned that the ever-resourceful Yepremian had done a brilliant thing. When Maritza had been diagnosed with breast cancer some years earlier, Garo had made his two rings into a necklace that Maritza could wear as an amulet in her fight against the cancer, which she eventually had won.

Both Doug and Garo cherished those rings, convinced they had a certain mojo. To earn them they had done what they had to do, and done it as well as anybody who’s ever played the game. They might have been a pair of oddballs, but they were Dolphins, World Champion Dolphins - I want to thank you!

VENI

1

Welcome to Miami

Up, up and away, my beautiful, my beautiful balloon.

— The Fifth Dimension

As Doug looked out the window of the plane, far below he could see the clear, blue waters of the Atlantic breaking over white, sandy beaches and in the distance, the skyline of Miami aglow in the setting sun. At 6’3" 228 lbs., Doug was crammed into a window seat. If he’d had a choice, he’d have chosen an aisle, but he wasn’t given a choice. It was the Miami Dolphins who’d bought him the ticket, and he was happy just to have a seat on the plane. For Doug, being invited by Don Shula to attend the Dolphins’ preseason training camp was a dream come true.

The date was July 12, 1970. Doug was twenty-one years old. Five days before he’d been cut by the Montreal Alouettes of the Canadian Football League. Being sent home by the Alouettes had come as a shock. Doug felt he’d been good enough to make the team and after getting cut, he thought his dream of playing professional football was over. Then Jim Ostendarp, Doug’s coach at Amherst College, had made a few calls and due to a pending players’ strike threatening the NFL, Ostendarp was able to get Doug a tryout with the Dolphins.

The only time Doug had been to Miami was two years earlier during Amherst’s spring break, and he hadn’t liked it. Miami was too hot, too glitzy, and too different. Doug was partial to older more staid cities in the Northeast like Syracuse, his hometown. As he stepped out of the plane into the bright sun, Doug could see heat waves wafting up from the tarmac. When Doug had boarded the plane in Syracuse, it had been chilly so he was wearing a pea-green Army surplus jacket and a pair of tired corduroys, which he’d considered a reasonable travel outfit. Not so if you were heading for Miami. Disembarking the plane, Doug couldn’t help noticing some of his fellow passengers giving him strange looks. Didn’t this guy realize Miami was hot?

Once in the terminal, there was no need for Doug to go to Baggage Claim. He had no baggage to claim. Everything Doug needed was stuffed into the duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Outside the terminal, he flagged down a cab and told the driver, I’m going to Biscayne College in Opa Locka, then added, the training camp for the Miami Dolphins.

The cab driver, who Doug guessed was Cuban, was not impressed. Back then nobody in Miami was too impressed with the Dolphins, or for that matter their training camp. As the cab rolled along, Doug could see why. The road to Opa Locka consisted of a long series of traffic lights that marked block after block of mini-malls with fast-food joints, pawn shops, and bars. When they arrived at Biscayne College, Doug could understand why the cabbie seemed less than enthusiastic about going to Opa Locka. It was a desolate place; as was Biscayne College. Unlike Amherst with its old, stately, brick buildings surrounded by majestic trees and lush green lawns, Biscayne College had the appearance of a neglected military base with patches of dried-up grass surrounding drab block and stucco buildings.

Coach Don Shula

Doug paid the driver, got out of the cab, and looked around. The place appeared to be deserted. He was standing alone in the parking lot wondering if he should start looking for a motel room when the door on a building that looked like a dorm opened and a tall, angular, somewhat disheveled guy came walking out. It looked like he’d just stepped outside for a smoke, but he seemed somewhat amused when he saw Doug standing there with his duffle. You checking in? he said.

Yup, I’m Doug Swift, Doug said. I’m supposed to meet with Joe Thomas tomorrow morning.

Oh, you must be the guy from Amherst, how charming. I’m Charlie Callahan, I handle publicity for the team. Pick up your duffle and we’ll find you a room. A publicity director? Doug was impressed. This must be the big leagues after all.

Even though the sun had set, it was still hot as hell. When Charlie opened the door to the dorm, Doug was expecting to be greeted with a blast of cool air, only there was none. Damn, Charlie, it’s hot in here, Doug said.

Yeah, they turn down the AC over the weekend, Charlie led Doug down a long corridor with rows of rooms on each side, all of which were empty. Charlie stopped at a room at the end of the corridor and said, Here you go. There was a big, fat guy in here, but he collapsed at practice yesterday morning. Once they got him revived, they sent him home, so I guess it’s all yours.

The room contained a desk, a wooden chair, a bureau, and two spring-cots. It wasn’t the Ritz, but it sure beat the basement of the Vadreuil Community Center where the Alouettes housed their players. Charlie opened the window, not that it did much good, then added, Say, have you eaten? Camp’s closed on Sundays, but there’s a bar down on the highway where you can catch a burger and a beer. Breakfast’s at 8. After that, an intern named Norm Potolski will take you to the Doc’s office for a physical. Then you’ll meet with Joe and draw your equipment. That should have you ready to go by the afternoon session.

By now a burger and a beer sounded pretty good to Doug, so he thanked Charlie for his help and headed down to the highway. On the way, he saw an Eckerd’s Drugs and figured he should invest in a cheap alarm clock. Getting up had never been one of Doug’s strong points. The burger and beer went down well and once back in his room, Doug set the alarm clock for 7AM and climbed into bed. As he lay there, still not quite believing he was in an NFL training camp, he picked up a Dolphins Media Guide Charlie had left for him and started reading the bio’s of the veteran linebackers he’d be competing against: Nick Buoniconti, Notre Dame; Randall Edmunds, Georgia Tech; Frank Emmanuel, Tennessee; Ed Weisacosky, Miami; and Jim Keyes, Ole Miss. Even though the prose in media guides tends to be hyped, reading about these veteran players from big-time university programs sent a chill through Doug. As he lay there listening to the Palmetto bugs skittering around the floor like mice, he started thinking about how he’d come this far and began to wonder if his beautiful balloon had just crash landed in a string of power lines.

2

Leave It to Beaver

Gee Dad, I have enough trouble keeping myself good without keeping all the other kids good.

— Theodore Beaver Cleaver

Back in the fifties, Syracuse was a big football town. That’s because Syracuse was the home of the Syracuse University ‘Orangemen’, one of the most elite college football programs in America. The reason for the Orangemen’s elite status was that their head coach Ben Schwartzwalder, a raw-boned country boy from West Virginia, forced himself to be good at everything he did. This drive was especially true when it came to playing and coaching football.

As a student at West Virginia University, despite weighing just 149 lbs., Schwartzwalder was the starting center and captain of the ’33 Mountaineers. After graduating, he’d worked his way through the Great Depression by successfully coaching a series of high school football teams in West Virginia and Ohio. Then in 1943, he answered his country’s call and enlisted in the Army. His war record was outstanding. As a Captain and paratrooper in the 82nd Airborne, Schwartzwalder was part of the invasion of Normandy and from there led his men through numerous battles on the long, hard march into Germany. By the time the war in Europe had ended, he’d been awarded a Silver Star, a Bronze Star, a Purple Heart, four battle stars, a Presidential Unit Citation, and had risen to the rank of Major. When General Matthew Ridgeway personally presented Schwartzwalder with the Presidential Unit Citation, the General said, Ben, I never expected to see you here to receive this award, to which Schwartzwalder replied, Sir, neither did I.

Upon his discharge from the Army, Schwartzwalder put his medals in a drawer and went back to what he liked doing best, coaching football. From 1946-1948, he led the Mules of little Muhlenberg College to a 25-5 record. Then in 1949, he was offered the head coaching job at Syracuse. His arrival marked the start of twenty-one years of greatness for the Orangemen. With the exception of his first year when his team went 4-5, Syracuse under Schwartzwalder never had a losing season and in 1959 they won the National Championship.

A popular apologue in Alabama maintains Sam ‘Bam’ Cunningham did more to integrate Alabama in sixty minutes than Martin Luther King did in twenty years. Of course, that’s nonsense, but there’s no question that on September 12, 1970, Sam ‘Bam’ Cunningham, who then was a sophomore running back for USC playing in his first varsity game, made an impact that shattered the color barrier at Alabama forever. On that evening in front of a national TV audience and 77,000 stunned fans at Legion Field in Birmingham, Cunningham, with only twelve carries, ran for 135 yards and two touchdowns as the Trojans ripped apart the lily-white Crimson Tide 42-21.

After the game, Paul ‘Bear’ Bryant, the legendary coach of Alabama and the architect of three national championships for the Crimson Tide, told the powers that be in Alabama that if they ever wanted to see another national football championship, the University was going to have to integrate. When the Bear spoke, people listened. The next year John Mitchell and Wilbur Jackson became the first two black players for Alabama, and the rest is history.

Ben Schwartzwalder and Jim Brown

Eighteen years earlier and with much less fanfare, Ben Schwartzwalder had told the people of Syracuse basically the same thing when in 1952 he recruited a kid from Manhassett High School on Long Island. That kid was Jim Brown, a superb talent not only in football but also basketball, track, and especially lacrosse, which was a big sport at Syracuse. During the next four years, Jim Brown became the face of Syracuse football and is still considered by many to be the best athlete ever to attend Syracuse University.

Given the prevailing racism that hung over America during the 1950s, Schwartzwalder, without ever having to openly say it, made it clear that anyone who might resent the fact that a black kid had become the face of Syracuse football would be wise to keep their feelings to themselves. For Schwartzwalder, football was like war. The only thing that mattered was winning. He didn’t care if you were red, white, black, brown, or yellow, if you were good enough, he wanted you on his team and, of course, Jim Brown and Orangemen after him like Ernie Davis, Floyd Little, and Jim Nance, weren’t just good enough, they were flat out great. Anybody who loved Syracuse football could have looked at Jim Brown’s face all day long.

Doug’s parents were avid Syracuse football fans. In 1949, Doug’s dad, Ed Swift, and Doug’s mom, Mernie, had met at Syracuse University Medical School. After the War, a couple of internships, residencies, and fellowships in both New York and Minnesota, they came back to Syracuse where Ed joined his father’s surgical practice and Mernie became a pediatrician for the Syracuse Public School system. In 1954, Ed, who as an undergraduate at SU had captained the University’s swim team, became a consulting physician to the athletic department. By 1957, the Swifts had four kids—Doug, his older sister Cheryl, and two younger brothers, Brad and Steve—and lived in a big rambling house right near the University. Given Ed’s association with the athletic department, the Swifts would invite students, especially members of the football team, over for dinner. At these dinners, Doug, who was then eight, was impressed by both the size and the appetites of these huge Orangemen and becoming a football player soon became his passion.

Doug’s childhood wasn’t much different than that of Wally and Beaver Cleaver except that Doug’s mother had a full-time job, and Syracuse was a lot colder than sunny southern California. The Swift kids, like most upper-middle-class kids growing up in America during the ‘50s, were expected to be polite, respect their elders, do well in school, be industrious, mind their manners, and stay out of trouble. Those were the rules. Obey them and you were pretty much on your own.

Doug’s best friend growing up was Pete Gifford. Pete was a faculty brat who lived just down the street from the Swifts. All the kids in the neighborhood called Pete ‘Rock’, a nickname he’d earned in the fifth grade. At that time, Doug and a few of his buddies would gather together in the Swifts’ basement on Friday nights to watch The Cavalcade of Sports’ ‘Friday Night Fights’ on a little 15-inch, black and white TV. Friday Night Fights, which featured Don Dunphy as the ring announcer, was televised live from Madison Square Garden, and was the most popular show on television. Since the show’s primary audience was men, Friday Night Fights was the perfect venue for selling razor blades, which is why Gillette was the show’s sponsor. During the ‘50s, there wasn’t a red-blooded American male who didn’t know To be sharp, as sung by the Gillette parrot, ya gotta look sharp, and Gillette blue blades give you the sharpest, cleanest shaves of all. Besides the parrot’s singing the ‘To Be Sharp’ jingle, what made the Gillette ads so entertaining was that between each round some good-looking babe in high heels, short-shorts, and a tight tank-top would strut around the ring holding up a big cardboard sign with the next round’s number on it. There was no question seeing her helped pole-vault a lot of young men into puberty.

After the fights were over, Doug would dig out some big, puffy, boxing gloves his father had tucked away and he and his buddies would have a go at each other. Given the size of the gloves, these bouts were closer to pillow fights than boxing matches, but Doug liked the contact. Hitting and getting hit fired him up. In one of these bouts, Rock caught Pete Davis, better known as ‘Rubin’ a la Pete’s favorite fighter Rubin ‘Hurricane’ Carter, with a punch that would have knocked a horse off its feet. Rubin went down like a rock and from that moment on, Pete Gifford became ‘Rock’, as in Rocky Marciano, the ‘Brockton Bomber’ who at that time was the reigning Heavyweight Champion of the World.

Doug’s mother didn’t fully approve of Doug hanging around with Rock. What bothered her was that she felt the Giffords might be too casual and too bohemian to have a positive influence on Doug. As the first woman to graduate from Syracuse University Medical School, Mernie Swift was very focused and with four kids and a full-time job, she ran a tight ship. The Giffords, on the other hand, seemed to just sail along. Even though Rock’s dad was an engineering professor at Syracuse University and a successful inventor of cryogenic refrigeration devices, Mr. Gifford liked the neighborhood kids just to call him Bill and Mrs. Gifford, Anne. In addition to this informality, Bill was known to pour himself a Manhattan and gather the neighborhood kids around the living room piano to join him in singing pop standards and Tom Lehrer tunes.

Doug liked hanging out at the Giffords. They were funny and interesting and Anne, who was as laid back as her husband, treated neighborhood kids like they were adults and enjoyed engaging them in lively discussions. So, Doug, what do you think about this Cuban missile crisis? or It’s obvious what Joe DiMaggio saw in Marilyn Monroe, but what did Marilyn ever see in Joe?

Archbold Stadium

This casual attitude made Bill and Anne Gifford seem unconventional, but what really set them apart was that the Giffords showed little or no interest in Syracuse football. While Rock was pretty laid back himself, he differed from his parents when it came to football. Rock was a very good athlete and a big Syracuse fan. Thanks to a promotional ticket package where for $5 kids could get a season pass to the bleachers behind the end zone, Doug and Rock would go to all the Syracuse games. From the bleachers, Doug and Rock could soak up the atmosphere and action that came with big-time football and once the game was over they’d run down onto the field and accost players, many of whom Doug knew from his parent’s dinners, for their chinstraps.

Unfortunately for many kids in Syracuse, when the Orangemen achieved national acclaim in the ‘56-’57 seasons, the University did away with the $5 program. Due to the team’s success, all 40,000 tickets into Archbold Stadium were now selling at a premium. If kids wanted to see a game, they’d have to figure out another way to get in. Some older kids were able to get jobs selling programs, popcorn, and peanuts. Others became ushers, but Doug and Rock were too young for those jobs, so Rock came up with an alternate plan. On game day, packs of kids from all over Syracuse would pick a gate and hang around it until just before the kickoff. Then after most of the 40,000 ticket holders were comfortably inside, they’d charge the gate. Big kids would jump over the turnstile while little guys like Doug would slip under it. The older men who manned the gates would make a half-hearted effort to collar a few kids and throw them out, but Rock and Doug were more agile than these old guys and rarely got busted.

Doug’s early football career evolved in three phases. First came pickup games around the neighborhood. Since Doug’s neighborhood was right next to the SU campus, Doug and his buddies could play on the SU fields and every now and then even sneak into an empty Archbold Stadium for a game. These games were rough and tumble affairs. When word on the street came that a game would be starting, kids would bicycle over to whatever field or lot had been chosen and two of the older kids would buck-up to choose sides. Whoever was playing quarterback would call the plays. Downs and distances were set by negotiation. Everybody self-refereed. If you didn’t like the way some kid was playing, you’d have it out with him. If there was no pickup game happening, kids would go two on two or three on three in some guy’s backyard. Here is where Doug’s mother got involved. Kids playing in her backyard were degrading her grass, her shrubbery, and her flower beds. Worse yet, when the weather turned bad, Doug and his friends took their game inside and played what they called ‘knee-football.’ Doug’s parents were good athletes and usually encouraged their kids in sports, but the breaking of a few lamps and chairs crossed over the line. Something had to give, which led to the second phase in Doug’s early football career.

3

Tweet Tweet,

It’s Gametime

In football, you can either kick ass or get your ass kicked. It’s up to you to decide which it will be.

— Coach Peter Palumb

Local clubs in Syracuse like the Kiwanis, Lions, and Rotary supported a football program for younger kids. The program was made up of neighborhoods in different suburbs surrounding downtown Syracuse. Many of these neighborhoods had their own ethnic or socio-cultural traits: Polish, Italian, Irish, Black, Jewish, University, white-collar, blue-collar, whatever. On the northside, was the ‘Our Lady of Pompeii’ team; on the southside, the Onondaga Indian Reservation team, the ‘Kirk Park Colts’, and the ‘Valley Pythons’; on the eastside, the ‘Eastside Aces,’ the Elm Crest Orphanage team and the Sherman Park’s ‘Lions’; on the westside, the ‘Winkworth All-Stars’ and the ‘Wolcott Wolves’. The program consisted of two leagues, A and B. ‘B-Teams’ were for kids 9-11, ‘A-Teams’ for kids 12-14. The format for the B-Teams was six-man football, the A-Teams eleven. The little kids season consisted of practice sessions during the week with an intra-squad game on Saturday mornings. For these games, two coaches would divide the roster in half. One side would wear red pullovers, the other white. Games would start and a couple of referees with whistles would try to maintain some semblance of order.

Sherman Park ‘Lions’ was the team for Doug’s neighborhood. Doug’s mother knew about the league and decided if she hoped to save what was left of her lawn and gardens, not to mention a few lamps and chairs, it was time to sign Doug up. Since Doug was about to turn ten, he’d be on the B-Team. When Doug and his mother arrived at Sherman Park an intra-squad game was just getting underway. When they approached the coach for the red pullovers, he looked at Doug and said, Hey, can you snap a ball? to which Doug’s mother replied, Sure he can.

Good, the coach said, handing Doug a red pullover. We’re one man short. Get in there and tell Rick you’re now the center. He can play end.

All Doug remembers from his first organized football game was snapping the ball and then standing there watching kids run around while not having the slightest idea of what he was supposed to do. Like most kids starting out, Doug had hoped to be a running back, but given his modest size, and less than modest speed, he was now a center for the Lions B-Team. While being a center squashed his dreams of glory, his parents tried to buck him up by telling him, Playing center will be great. It’ll keep you right in the middle of things.

Other than the red and white pullovers, there were no B-Team uniforms. Kids played in their sneakers and dungarees. Helmets weren’t needed since heads were not yet involved in the blocking and tackling. Blocking involved bumping into each other while tackling was mostly grabbing a kids’ jersey and swirling him around. None of the parents took the games too seriously. The noise and atmosphere at B-Team games were more like a lively playground with coaches’ whistles mixed in. During Doug’s games, his mother would stand on the sideline singing old-time college songs like, You’ve got to be a football hero/To get along with a beautiful girl!

Most of Doug’s teammates were kids he knew from school: Craig Archer, Rick Berne, Doug Burns, Jim Decker, John Fogarty, John Moreland, and, of course, Rock Gifford. The B-Team coaches were Ron, an ex-Syracuse U. football player who was in graduate school, and Lou, a current Syracuse U. player who was out with an injury. Ron and Lou were big, knowledgeable, and affable, like the guys that came to his parents’ dinners. Doug thought they were wonderful coaches as they patiently taught them their different positions and the techniques for blocking and tackling. Then, just like the Orangemen, Ron and Lou would have them run around the goalposts and do wind sprints. For the first time in his life, Doug felt like a real football player.

In addition to their intra-squad games, the B-Team had two real games. The first was against the Elmcrest Orphanage, a grim institution that came as an eye-opener to the kids from tony Sherman Park. The Elmcrest team was made up of white kids and black kids who were loud, chippy, disorganized, and obviously poorly coached. In between huddles their behavior was chaotic and they frequently argued over who should play which position. When they were tackled or blocked, they took it as a personal afront, and you got the general feeling they didn’t like playing football. Who could blame them? To Doug, it looked like these kids had been knocked around all of their lives. When the game finally ended, the Lions had easily won and were relieved to climb back into their wood paneled station wagons and head home. Elmcrest Orphanage was no place they wanted to be.

The B-Team’s second game was at the Onondaga Indian Reservation just south of Syracuse. Playing against the Indians was another eye-opener for the Sherman Park kids. The Reservation’s football field was a mowed pasture with a bumpy surface that sloped up and down. Uneven chalk-lines marked the boundaries of the field and the two goal lines. In the end zones, two very improvised goal posts clearly highlighted the difference in altitude from one end of the field to the other. The Indian kids proved to be scrappy and well coached, and at the start of the game they pulled a fast