Remember the Rose Bowl: part one, Stanford vs. SMU, 1936

On New Years’ Day 1936 the SMU Mustangs represented the Southwest Conference 2,000 miles from home in the Rose Bowl — the first Texas school to do so, and the last for seventy years. To their opponent, Stanford, the Pasadena showcase was nothing new. The appearance was the sixth in school history and third consecutive. Having lost the previous two Rose Bowl Games to Columbia in 1934 and then an Alabama squad in 1935 that featured a young end named Paul Bryant, the Indians were in no mood to let SMU take the laurels.

Under third-year head coach Claude Thornhill, Stanford had stormed to Pasadena as 8-1 Pacific Coast Champion with only a one-point loss at UCLA blemishing the record. Thornhill had played for Glenn Scobey Warner at Pitt and later followed his mentor out west to learn the coaching trade. By the time Warner left Stanford following the 1932 season for Temple, the final destination of his forty-four year coaching career, he had led the Indians to three Rose Bowls and established the school as the West Coast’s football power. He had done so with technically sound, tried-and-tested methods that even by the 1930s were already seen by many as somewhat old fashioned. But then, a veteran coach who had graduated Cornell in 1894 and was known by the nickname “Pop” was hardly likely to embrace much new wave thinking. His successor, a former lineman sarcastically nicknamed “Tiny” on account of his hulking stature, unsurprisingly upheld all of his predecessor’s methodology. Behind the straight-ahead running of all-America fullback Bobby Grayson and a bruising line led by Jim Moscrip, another all-America at left end, Stanford’s “vow boys” had pounded their way to the only three-year run of successive conference titles in school history. The freshman class of 1932 acquired their name after vowing together that they would never receive the kind of thumping at the hands of the hated USC Trojans which the varsity took that year. And they never did, going a perfect 3-0 against USC.

Facing Stanford that clear, sunny January 1st was a team that provided both a mirror image and a stark juxtaposition. The top-ranked, unbeaten Ponies were also at the height of their program’s historical powers. And SMU also featured two all-America selections — left halfback Bobby Wilson and powerful left guard J. C. Wetsel. Like Stanford, SMU had only recently parted ways with a legendary coach. After three conference championships in thirteen seasons and an 84-44-23 record Ray Morrison had returned home to coach his alma mater, Vanderbilt, the preceding year. Morrison’s successor, Madison “Matty” Bell would achieve a 79-40-8 mark through twelve seasons, including a perfect 12-0 regular season his first year. Bell, a Fort Worth native, had played for tiny Centre College in Kentucky, and had coached at TCU and then Texas A&M prior to taking the SMU job. Bell led his team past his former employer TCU and its great star Slingin’ Sammy Baugh in a 20-14 thriller to clinch the Rose Bowl berth. Both TCU and SMU employed offensive styles that the New York Times called:

“…the wide open style of play that has been increasingly adopted in all sections except the west coast.”

True to form the Rose Bowl unfolded as a battle of old versus new school, each team continuing the approach that had carried them so far. Stanford attempted only five forward passes, completing just 2-for-43. Two were intercepted. In contrast the Indians ground out a relatively productive 113 yards on the ground, and elected to punt fifteen times. As was not uncommon in football through the 1930s, many of Stanford’s punts were surprise “quick kicks” on first down designed to pin the opponent deep when no return man could run the ball back. With senior quarterback and Pasadena native Bill Paulman punting for a forty-yard average and the larger Stanford line successfully hurrying the SMU pass-attack, the quick kick strategy proved remarkably effective. Using field position and conservative play Stanford outlast SMU for a final score of 7-0. And that despite being outgained by a margin of seventy-one passing yards and nine Pony first downs to just six for the Indians.

A surprise kick actually set up the game’s only score late in the first quarter. At midfield on first down Paulman pinned SMU on their five-yard line. The Ponies could not escape and kicked back. Their punting would be second-rate all day. Quarterback John Sprague and halfback John Finley shared eleven punts for just a thirty-four yard average. When Finley kicked the ball out of his endzone in the first quarter he was horrified to see halfback James Coffis return it fifteen precious yards. Working from the Pony forty-two Stanford took advantage with an uncharacteristic play when Grayson threw a twenty-three yard completion to Coffis. After two rushes for no gain Grayson burst around right end for seventeen yards. On the next play a reverse to left halfback Bob “Bones” Hamilton carried Stanford to the one-yard line, from whence Paulman stepped home running free as a fake hand-off to Hamilton motioned the SMU line to the wrong direction.

Despite having gained a touchdown with relatively creative play Thornhill decided to withdraw into more cautious tactics for the remaining three quarter, seeking to preserve the Indians’ one-score lead. SMU passed the ball thirty times, an amazing number for the era. Unfortunately the Stanford line successfully penetrated the Pony backfield with enough regularity to disrupt the SMU air-attack. The Ponies never managed to complete passes with sufficient consistency to throw keep drives moving. Occasional short gains were peppered with enough incompletions that while SMU’s tactics impressed the predominantly West Coast crowd, they availed little. Finley, Wilson, and Sprague combined for only 11-of-30 passing. Worst of all, they were picked off a crippling six times — usually at decisive moments which allowed Stanford to “bend but not break” on defense before the phrase had been coined.

Stanford defenders breaking up SMU's usually reliable passing attack

Faced with a physical team that was disrupting its preferred style of play, the SMU offense was forced into trickery to gain its only realistic scoring opportunity. On the next Stanford possession after Paulman’s touchdown Hamilton attempted a rare pass only to be picked off by Sprague. Feeling unable to run into the traffic in front Sprague quickly threw a lateral to Wilson, setting up a short return by the all-American. The Ponies then ran a double-lateral hook and ladder to the Stanford five-yard line. Finley began the play with a forward pass to Harry Shuford, who tossed a short lateral to Wilson. The halfback then rifled a bullet-like second lateral back across to Finley who was darting out of the backfield. He almost reached the endzone before Stanford defensive backs ran him down. Unfortunately for SMU, the shorter field then returned the advantage to Stanford's bigger frontline. Wilson was hit for no gain on the next play, fumbled and center Wes Muller recovered for the Indians.

SMU ended the half with another frenetic burst of offense. Pinned at their own five, Wilson and Finley fired off a series of short passes to reach halfway before time expired. The promising end to the first half proved chimerical. After the break SMU managed little on offense. The Stanford line wore SMU down, holding the Mustangs to just eighty-five total team yards rushing, and coming up with crucial interceptions. In the end a seven point lead proved plenty, and Stanford actually came closest to a second score of the game when a twenty-seven yard field goal try from Moscrip [set up by an interception of Wilson, naturally] drifted wide in the third quarter.

The great 1935 SMU Mustangs

Bell’s team, the rapturously received SMU marching band, and the quaintly dressed Texas boosters all returned the 2,000 miles home with nothing. The one fanatic who hitch-hiked the entire way must have felt particularly disappointed. Doubtless, however, he never regretted making the trip. Not only has SMU never returned to Pasadena, but until the BCS era they remained the only Texas school to have made the trip. Not until Oklahoma crushed Washington State 34-14 on New Years’ Day 2003 did another former Southwest Conference member play in the “Granddaddy” [OU was a charter member of the SWC in 1915 but remained only until 1919]. Two years later the University of Texas played a thriller against fellow historical heavyweight Michigan, running out a one-point winner in a 38-37 final. Texas returned the following year to upset USC behind the incredible Vince Young, coming back late to win 41-38.

This year, on January 1st 2011 the TCU Horned Frogs became only the third Texas school to play in Pasadena, and the only one besides UT to be crowned champion. Senior quarterback Andy Dalton succeeded where even Slingin’ Sammy had failed in 1935, leading the Frogs to college football’s most prestigious bowl game. He also succeeded where Bob Wilson had failed, leading his team past a bulkier Wisconsin squad to a thrilling 21-19 win. Like SMU, the Horned Frogs will almost certainly never be asked to return. But like the Dallas man who loved his 1935 Ponies enough to thumb his way to California and back, no one in Fort Worth cares. The little guys from the old Southwest Conference had their day in the sun.


[Sources: New York Times; Fort Worth Star-Telegram]

Wally Triplett and the 1948 Cotton Bowl

Many of the athletes in American sports history that blazed brave trails through seemingly impregnable race barriers demonstrated almost super human singleness of mind and tenacity. Think of indomitable Jackie Robinson or resolute Jim Brown. But the first black player to break the college football color line in a former confederate state did not fit that mold. Wallace “Wally” Triplett lettered at Penn State from 1946 to 1948. He was one of three black members of the 1947 Nittany Lions that played in the Cotton Bowl, and went on to become the first black NFL draftee. Triplett refused to accept discrimination, resisting bigoted treatment directed his way whenever he could. But much the history Triplett made seems almost to have happened around him, often because of the ease with which he made friends.

The fifth of six football playing sons in a family from La Mott, Pennsylvania, Triplett’s talents produced numbers in his High School career that attracted attention. In those days of limited and expensive travel many programs scouted distant players from printed reports. When Wally received a letter from the University of Miami offering a football scholarship for the fall of 1945 he wondered if the coaches even knew he was black. La Mott was not an all-black community and such a factual oversight was plausible. Not wanting to court controversy Triplett wrote to Miami informing the football office of his racial status. Miami responded by immediately rescinding the scholarship offer. Triplett headed instead to University Park on an academic scholarship with a letter of introduction from his High School coach to Penn State coach Bob Higgins. Triplett earned a place on the team and fortuitously became a sophomore starter in 1946 when Halfback Joe Tepsic signed a baseball contract with the Brooklyn Dodgers. He did not explicitly set out to carve new pathways for integration and technically was not even Penn State’s first black player.

Dave Alston, the son of a black minister and valedictorian of his High School class, had removed any reluctance coach Higgins felt regarding his race with a standout season at Tailback on the 1941 freshman team. Alston’s athleticism matched his disarming charm – he reputedly ran the 100 yard dash in 10 seconds. Higgins excitedly compared him to Jim Thorpe and eagerly awaited the 1942 season. Coming off a 7-2 record in 1941, Higgins’ best in his eleven-year tenure, the Nittany Lions looked poised to finally shrug the mediocrity that defined their teams during the 1930s. But fate intervened on August 15th 1942 when Alston died from complications arising from a routine appendectomy. The tragedy over shadowed a 6-1-1 season and left Penn State still awaiting its first black varsity letterman.

Another black athlete, lineman Dennis Hoggard, joined Triplett on the 1946 Nittany Lion varsity team. But before the season even began race issues appeared threateningly on the horizon. Penn State scheduled a season finale at the University of Miami - the very school that had denied Triplett a scholarship on the grounds of his race. Like all southern schools at that time, Miami would not allow northern teams to travel with their black members. Higgins wanted to leave his black players at home and retain the fixture but the school newspaper began agitating feeling on campus against accepting southern bigotry. Higgins decided to put the matter to a team vote. Triplett and Hoggard were surprised and thrilled when their teammates voted to forego the trip, even at the cost of a potential banner victory. Triplett had become very popular and Penn State did not suffer the de facto segregation within its football team witnessed at other northern schools of the era. Triplett's 1947 roomemate, a white lineman named Sam Tamburo, became his closest friend on the team. The Nittany Lions competed ferociously and verbally berated one another on the practice field, but off it a smooth and easy team dynamic evolved in which race rarely factored.

Penn State reaped the reward of their sacrifice a year later when their unity of spirit led the Lions to a 9-0 1947 regular season, including some crushing shut-out wins. Penn State topped Syracuse 40-0 at homecoming in October, holding the Orangemen to a ridiculous NCAA record minus 47 total yards offense! The team clearly deserved a bowl invitation, but race again threatened to intervene. With the Rose Bowl selecting undefeated Big Ten champion Michigan, the best location seemed to be the Dallas-based Cotton Bowl. The Southwest Conference remained segregated and conference rules stated that black athletes could not participate in any game without the consent of both schools involved. An invite would therefore require the blessing of the host team, SMU.

The Nittany Lions had already publically demonstrated their solidarity, making known the fact that they would not travel without their black players. The team waited while the Cotton Bowl and SMU considered the merits of inviting the best available opponent against the possibility of volatile racial controversy. From somewhere the players caught wind of rumors that SMU officials wanted to meet with Penn State counterparts to discuss the matter, but the Nittany Lions felt there was nothing to discuss. Triplett remembers senior guard and captain Steve Suhey exclaiming to teammates:

“We are Penn State. There will be no meetings.”

According to Triplett, this statement evolved into the now famous “We are Penn State” cheer – one of the great spectacles of the college football landscape.

Eventually the Cotton Bowl invited Penn State, black players and all. Because no Dallas hotel would accommodate the racially integrated team the Nittany Lions stayed at a nearby Navy base. But the team was able to enjoy some of the flavor of Texas life. Heading back to the base on the team bus one night several players spotted a busy nightclub and shouted their desire to go inside. Team manager David “Red” Baron spoke with the owner, who realized his establishment could only benefit from the prestigious visitors. Triplett later recalled the man grabbing his elbow as he entered and saying:

“We aint never had no niggers in here, but you come on.”

It proved an enjoyable night, but a cautious Triplett nervously avoided talking with the white girls that flocked around the team.

When the game finally arrived it provided a spectacle more than justifying the risk of inviting an integrated northern guest. SMU’s all-American and future Heisman Trophy quarterback Doak Walker led his Mustangs on an early surge, jumping out to a 13-0 lead mid-way through the second quarter, but Penn State soon clawed their way back. Underrated quarterback Elwood Petchel led a drive culminating in a 38-yard TD strike just before halftime, but time enough remained to require a touchdown-saving tackle from Triplett on the kick return. The second half was all Penn State as SMU gained only 24 yards rushing and 15 passing.

Petchel tied the game in the third quarter when Triplett, convinced he could get open on a corner route, pleaded for a fade to the end zone. His confidence proved well founded. Triplett brought the ball safely into his chest, becoming the first black player to score a major college touchdown in a former Confederate state.

Although a missed extra point left the game an unsatisfying 13-13 tie, even a win would not have delivered Penn State a national title. Notre Dame and Michigan (who trounced USC 49-0 in the Rose Bowl) both had more favored teams. Regardless, the Nittany Lions were a great team in their own right. More importantly, they demonstrated the solidarity, bravery and principle that define football at its very best.

Wally Triplett has always spoken highly of his time at Penn State, but those years were by no means easy. Even in State College, far from the codified “Jim Crow” laws that defined southern society, blacks on campus were not fully integrated and felt the sting of isolation. Unable to room in the regular dormitories in his first years at the school, Triplett lived downtown in “Lincoln Hall” - a black boarding house named after the great emancipator. Triplett refused to calmly accept racist treatment. On one occasion he trapped a professor who consistently gave him failing grades by submitting a paper written for him by a local doctor. The assignment promptly received an F. Backed by hard evidence, an official protest led the administration to later release the professor. But Triplett did not harbor bitterness. Later in life he recalled the era as a different time. Many people faced discrimination, and many took stands against it. He only viewed himself with humility as one amongst the many, a man who accomplished firsts more by the chance of timing than his own personal greatness.



No doubt if Triplett had not made the Penn State team and earned the trust, respect and loyalty of his team mates, some other black player would eventually have broken the Cotton Bowl color line. But that is irrelevant. Wallace Triplett did accomplish those firsts. He was a great athlete and a brave and upstanding man. The Nittany Lions deserve the plaudits of history for the stand the team took years before such actions became fashionable at even the most progressive non-southern institutions.

(Sources: GoPSU.com; Scripps News on Dave Alston; Lauren Boyer, Centre Daily Times; Jordan Hyman, Game of My Life; Access Granted, video; WPSU In Motion)

Mr Slingin' Samuel Baugh

We lack a definitive, scientific way to determine the best college football player of all time. So, in the interest of fairness and in order to settle a futile dispute, let’s just declare me the final arbiter and agree that it is clearly Sam Baugh.

Baugh died on December 17th, 2008 aged 94. Here in Fort Worth Baugh is a legend and revered local hero. He is also celebrated by those with a good knowledge of NFL history. Any one familiar with his career is in no doubt that his name belongs in any footballing pantheon of national notoriety. In everything he did on the field, Baugh stood out. But off it he was humility incarnate. He never brazenly promoted himself. It even took the providential intervention of the football gods to bring Baugh’s talent to light at all. Growing up in the central Texas town of Temple the odds did not favor him. Clearly the only genuine star on a woeful middle school team, his coach saw nothing to lose in moving him from end to the backfield before he was either old or big enough to be there. Fortunately his father found work with the Santa Fe Railroad and packed the family off to tiny Sweetwater in west Texas. Playing on much better teams Baugh reached the State High School playoffs twice. But it was as an inspired third baseman that he attracted the attention of Texas Christian University’s baseball coach, Dutch Meyer.

Baugh headed to Fort Worth to play baseball in 1933 with many predicting a big league future. Mercifully, the gods intervened again. Francis Schmidt, after quietly putting together impressive football teams that won two Southwest Conference titles in four years, earned an irresistible job offer from Big Ten giant Ohio State. TCU moved Dutch Meyer over to football as Schmidt’s replacement. One of Meyer’s first acts, and either his most farsighted or fortuitous, was to convince Baugh to follow him. Meyer liked Baugh’s arm, his accuracy and his attitude and saw the young athlete as the key to his system. Perhaps Meyer’s love of baseball gave him a unique perspective on football. For whatever reason, he saw potential in the passing game that his peers did not. He instituted a pass-oriented short yardage system not unlike the more recent not-so-revolutionary ‘West Coast offense.’ With Baugh’s prodigious skill at the heart of operations Meyer’s Horned Frog teams went 29-7-2 in his first three seasons, winning the 1936 Sugar Bowl and 1938 Cotton Bowl. Baugh made the Camp All-America team twice and compiled 3,384 yards and 39 touchdowns. Texas Tech routinely posts such numbers today in their non-conference slate vs. Sun Belt scrub teams alone, but in the mid 1930s such stats literally boggled the mind.

Baugh’s career at TCU provided countless highlights, including a national championship effort at the second annual Sugar Bowl on New Year’s Day, 1936. The Horned Frogs ground out a bruising win over LSU by the spectacularly old-school margin of 3-2 (recently displayed for modern audiences by Auburn and Miss. State). On an oppressively rainy January day Baugh punted the water-logged football 14 times for a 45 yard average. But for all his wins with all their air of herculean perfection, Baugh’s TCU fame remains inextricably tied to a fateful home loss against cross-town rivals SMU on Nov 30th 1935. That day Baugh garnered highly deserved praise in the national press. But when in the end he came up short, showing himself mortal.

With the Great Depression showing no sign of abating, folks in North Texas needed something to cheer about. Regardless of the hard times, around 40,000 found the spare change to buy tickets that by kick-off were selling for the prohibitively princely sum of $1.65. No one doubted the value of their purchase as two star-studded teams presented the best of Southwest Conference football to the nation. With Meyer’s Frogs tied for first in the AP poll and Matt Bell’s Mustangs in fourth, both perfect at 10-0, big names headed to Cowtown from every corner. Fort Worth was then an obscure outpost, barely on the map half a century. The Southwest Conference was in its twentieth season but still languished far behind the Ivy League, Big Ten and Pacific Coast Conference in prestige and media attention. But with a Rose Bowl bid at stake New York Sun sports reporter Grantland Rice, a college football legend in his own right, refused to miss the spectacle. Texas football did not disappoint. Rice called the show: “one of the greatest games ever played in the sixty year history of our nation’s finest college sport.”

Led by SMU’s own All-American half-back Bobby Wilson, the Mustangs jumped out to an early 14-0 lead on 73 and 80 yard drives. TCU quickly pulled themselves out of their early slump. Baugh was far from the only star on the team. All American center Darrell Lester and All Conference back Jimmy Lawrence were only two of the other Frogs earning accolades of their own. But the team had only one undisputed leader and darling. Baugh did everything he could to find the win, throwing for 180 yards and a touchdown on 17 of 44 passes. Drops accounted for 8 of his incompletions. Baugh blamed himself, claiming that he threw too hard in an effort to defeat SMU’s tight coverage. Wilson later magnanimously insisted that his opponent’s passes had been manifestly catchable.

The game winning score came out of punt-formation on a fourth down heave from the TCU 37 yard line with seven minutes remaining in the fourth quarter. In those days an incomplete pass to the end zone counted for a touchback, so with nothing to lose SMU called pass and Bob Finley lofted the ball down field. In addition to his outstanding offensive play and consistent half-century punting Baugh was also a standout defensive back. He knew the pass was coming and was the closest TCU man to the action when who else but the irrepressible Wilson made a twisting catch, falling backwards over the goal line. The helpless Baugh could only watch aghast. He responded by driving TCU down the field before stalling at the 30. On the ensuing SMU drive Wilson gifted Baugh one last chance by fumbling at the Frog 18. TCU reached the opposing 25 yard line as the clock expired, leaving Baugh within sniffing distance of goal in a crushing 20-14 upset. No. 45 could do many things, but not bend time.

Grantland Rice, with his usual propensity to over-dramatize, captured the game’s frantic final moments, writing that Baugh’s “passing attack was eating up ground when the whistle blew with SMU supporters almost in a panic against the deathly machine gun fire.” Boston Globe writer Bill Cunningham summed up Baugh’s immense talent in a folksier fashion, penning words now immortal to every TCU fan: “Mr. Slingin’ Samuel Baugh can chunk that cabbage. He throws that plaything in all modes and tenses, short or long, high or low, hard or soft.”

Yes sir, Sammy Baugh could do it all; but not that day. Rice and sports writers of his ilk have always looked to make immortals of a few men. In reality, the appeal of our best athletes is surely that they are only men like us. Humility remains Baugh’s noblest and most admirable characteristic.

Baugh played for the Washington Redskins from 1937 until 1952. I won’t sully the pages of this blog with too much pro-football talk - If you want that, see the New York Times obituary – but a brief look at the NFL’s records pages speaks volumes for Baugh’s lasting impact on the game. He ranks first or second in multiple categories including most seasons leading the league in punting, passing, completions, completion percentage, pass attempts, yards gained, and lowest percentage of passes intercepted. He holds the NFL record for average gain per completion in a single game. His career average yards per punt is the NFL’s second highest and his single season average the highest. When the sun sets for its final time Baugh will still be the only player to have thrown four touchdowns and intercepted four passes in the same game (unsurprisingly achieved against the Detroit Lions – 1943). Most impressively, Baugh is the only name that appears consistently on the NFL’s all time record lists predating the 1960s. His athletic accomplishments stand up to rigorous comparison with the best of today’s game. Off the field, he surpassed them all.

Baugh spent years at the top of the professional game in the nation’s capital, but he remained a small town Texan to his core. He spent as much time as possible with his wife and children on their land in Rotan, Texas and retired there to peaceful quietude as soon as his playing days were done. Baugh was no recluse though. He unabashedly expressed due confidence in his ability, for humility is certainly not self deprecation. Probably the two most famous Baugh stories capture this contrast most acutely.

In Baugh's first Redskins practice head Coach Ray Flaherty approached his highly touted QB and said:

“They tell me you’re quite the passer.”

“I reckon I can throw a little bit,” Baugh answered.

“Show me,” Flaherty challenged. “Hit that receiver in the eye.”

Baugh came back like a flash:

“Which eye?”

For all his tongue-in-cheek assuredness, Baugh never demonstrated the self-congratulatory egotism that mars the modern game. He never signed any balls in the end zone with sharpies hidden in his sock for the purpose. He never swaggered, brayed, crowed, or strutted. Baugh did not win the second annual Heisman trophy, probably because the Southwest Conference in 1935 did not command enough national respect. That honor went to Yale end Larry Kelly, a man who notoriously lacked Baugh’s down-home graciousness. Baugh established the SWC as a recognized power, blazing the trail for another Horned Frog, Davey O’Brian, to earn the league’s first Heisman in 1938. Acknowledging Baugh’s accomplishments the SWC invited Baugh to a dinner for all its Heisman winners in 1995, the league’s valedictory year. Asked by Fort Worth Star Telegram writer Whit Canning how he felt sitting beside the likes of Doak Walker, Earl Campbell and Andre Ware, Baugh replied with a wry but serious smile:

“I feel like the bastard at a family reunion.”

Can anyone imagine Terrell Owens saying that?

(Sources: Dan Jenkins, Greatest moments in TCU football history; Fort Worth Star Telegram obit; New York Times obit; NFL.com; Redskins tribute; Boston Globe and New York Sun)