When I played high school football in Ackley (over) 60 years ago, things were a little different. We had just enough boys out for football to have a “first team” and a “second team” with maybe two or three extra scrubs, usually undersized freshmen. We used the old short punt formations, which already was almost out of fashion. Our helmets were leather, and there were no face masks attached, resulting in an occasional bloody or broken nose, or a loosened or displaced tooth.
The Ackley football field had no bleachers, and the fans stood throughout the game behind a strand of wire. There was a cornfield adjacent to the east end zone, and after an extra point attempt, the referee would go into the cornfield in search of the ball. The goal post, over which the ball might or might not have passed (usually not) was wooden.
The last game of the season was always with our arch-rival, Eldora, traditionally played on the afternoon of Armistice Day (now called Veteran’s Day), Nov. 11. In 1946, however, the game was played the afternoon of Nov. 8 in Eldora. It was a gray and chilly day. Our team was moderately good, with five wins and two losses going into the game. Eldora had not done too well, and everybody figured we would beat them. The first half was, however, a disaster for us. We couldn’t do anything right—offensively or defensively—and at halftime we went off the field trailing 13-0.
During the halftime our coach, Gordon R. (Doc) Spears, and his assistant coach, Principal Herb Ritland, stayed away and let us stew in our own juice. And stew we did. Then, just before the half ended, Ritlandcame in, sternly looked us over for what seemed like an eternity, and then asked, ‘Do you want your tea now or later, girls?’ Humiliation perfected!
A more effective halftime inspirational talk no coach ever made. We charged onto the field like Vikings on a pillaging raid. (In fact, we were called The Raiders. Eldora was named The Tigers.) We scored four touchdowns and two extra points in the second half and held Eldora scoreless. In the last couple minutes we were marching for what surely would have been our fifth touchdown. Sam Miller, a senior and team captain, was our right guard. Sam was a tough, boney guy with sharp elbows who tolerated no guff from anybody. I was always happy that he was on our team rather than the other team. The Eldora guard opposite Sam had, throughout the game, been throwing dirt in Sam’s face. As we neared the goal line, Sam kept asking the referee after each play how much time was left. (There was no scoreboard clock.) After about three such queries, the ref said, ‘a little less than one minute, Sam’. Sam said, ‘that’s all I want to know.’
I knew what was coming. I played center and when I snapped the ball for the next play, I immediately looked to my right to observe Sam. He reached across the line, grabbed the Eldora guard’s jersey with his left hand and with his right – pow! Right in the kisser. (As I mentioned, there were no face masks in those days.)
We were, of course, penalized 15 yards and Sam was ejected from the game. He went off the field in this last football game of his life chuckling. The penalty cost us our chance for another touchdown, but no matter—we won 26-13.
Tea was not served.
Judge Harold Vietor was born in Parkersburg, Iowa. His article has been reprinted by permission from the Ackley Heritage Center Newsletter, October 2007.
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