 This is Jimmy Powers, ready to bring you another story from the tumult and the shouting. Hello there. Once again, this is yours truly, Jimmy Powers. From his first exposure to football as a Vanderbilt University undergraduate in 1899, Granny Rice never lost touch with the collegiate game. As the Grantland-Rice byline began to emerge around 1910, Granny's impact on the game was constructive. Later in the golden 20s, the Grantland-Rice All-American teams received national attention. In fact, right up to and through his last All-American team in 1953. Granny's All-American selections were about as official as you can get. Well, Granny knew the players and you can bet he knew their coaches. From Walder Camp, father of football at Yale, right on through the moderns of today, such as armies Earl Blake and Oklahoma's Bud Wilkinson, he knew them all. So with a warm salute to the every young spirit of Grantland-Rice, I take up his narrative in first person. Some remarkable broken field runners have flashed across Corn Belt football arenas, but the brightest bolt of kinetic energy was Harold Red Grainge, the Illinois meteor. Picture if you can a tall gray hound of a boy with hair the color of a sunset, the rhythm of a ballet dancer, and two speeds, fast and faster. Red Grainge blazed through Michigan for five touchdowns one afternoon, and an irate Ann Arbor zealots scoffed, all Grainge can do is run. Yes, retorted Bob Zupke, the Illinois proud coach, and all Gallicurgy can do is sing. Who can ever forget Grainge's first Eastern appearance at Pennsylvania's Franklin Field in 1925? The Easterners had been fed up on the fabulous tales of the great redheads exploits, and they came prepared to be disillusioned. The Franklin Field press box groaned with sports writers from as far west as the Mississippi. So what happened? So on the very first play of the game, Grainge took the ball on his own 24-yard line, slithered off tackle like a gigantic fiddler crab, broke suddenly to the outside, swept the Pennsylvania flank, cut back to midfield, and fled for the goal line, not a single hand touched him. Virtually single-handed, Red went on to beat Penn 24-2, scoring four spectacular touchdowns all long range. Grainge had what doctors call psychosomatic perception, that is, the ability to sense the presence of unseen hazards. He could visualize the entire pattern of the field at one glance. Even while he was given one tackler the slip, he could sense the approach of another and was already figuring out ways to elude him. While there are those who say the Pennsylvania game was his greatest afternoon in football, Grainge himself told me that his most terrific game was played against mighty Michigan October 18, 1924. The Illinois players came out on the field without stockings. That just wasn't done in those days. Old hurry-up Yoast and his Michigan captain, Herb Steager, went over to the Illinois and felt everyone's legs. They suspected that they were greased. That's one of Zupke's tricks, said Yoast. Michigan kicked off. Grainge took the ball on his five. Following perfect interference, the Red had reached the 20, the 25, crossed the field, hit the 40, sped past midfield, and kept on going all the way, not a finger touched him. Michigan kicked off again. Once more, the ball plumped into Grainge's arms, but this time he dropped the ball, recovered, and was tackled. Illinois kicked. Michigan charged down to the 25-yard line, tried a field goal, and it was wide. Illinois took over the ball, and on the very first play, Grainge scored on a 75-yard zigzag run after coming dangerously near stepping out of bounds at midfield. In exchange of punts, and Grainge scored again on a 55-yard gallop. A fumble by Steager of Michigan on his own 45 set the stage for Grainge's fourth run to a touchdown three minutes later. Four touchdowns in 12 minutes. I got away on another jaunt good for 30 yards, but failed to score, recall Grainge. It was a hot afternoon, and I was so winded from sprinting that I signaled Bob Zupke to take me out just before the quarter ended. I gained 262 yards in carrying the ball six times. The quarter consumed 45 minutes because of kickoffs. Grainge was back in there in the third quarter. Immediately, he skirted Michigan's left end for 37 yards, then carried the ball over from the 11 after passing for 20. In the fourth period, he passed to Marion Leonard for 20 yards and a touchdown. The final score was 39-14. I was able to score against Michigan because this was the first game in which I cut back on end runs, Red said. I ran toward our strong side behind an unbalanced line. In that first quarter, the Michigan's were thinking more about our bare legs than about the game. Something was wrong with them. We always were expecting them to improve. It was indeed a great afternoon, reflected Grainge, but I would have gone nowhere without the splendid blocking of Earl Britton, Wally McElwain, Jim McMillan, and the rest. Britton was one of the finest interfering backs who ever lived. Against Michigan that day, I saw him go to the ground, taking out the tackler, get up, take out another, and finally erase a third before I was downed or clear. Without a Earl Britton, there never would have been a Red Grainge. For years after Earl Blake returned to Army from Dartmouth in 1941, I would usually return from the Pennsylvania Army game at Philadelphia with Blake and the Army team. Once Pete Dolan of the Old New York Sun and I found ourselves alone with Hickman, then Army's line coach in the private diner before the call for dinner. That was around 1946, the year that Dale Hall and Max Miner were in Army's backfield. We proceeded to replay the pen game. Army had made its customary slow start at Franklin Field but had won handily. Then I asked Hickman about the Navy game two weeks hence. Army had lost Kenna and some ranking players and the Navy game figured to be close. In the midst of the discussion, Hickman suddenly laughed, his 300 pounds almost shaking the car off the tracks and said, Granny, the best way I can put it is this. And he immediately broke into a string of verse delivered with meticulous inflection in a trained, vibrant voice. On and on he went, building up to the climax. Though much has taken much abides and though we are not that strength which in the old days moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are. One equal temper of heroic hearts made weak by time and fate but strong in will to strive, to seek, to find and not to yield. Estimate the number of persons in the world who, without a moment of warning or preparation could deliver letter perfect the last 16 lines of Tennyson's Ulysses. I told that story in my Coloman newspapers throughout the land. A world of sports that had known Herman Hickman only as a collegiate and professional football player and coach had now come to know him as the poet laureate of the Great Smokies and the Phi Beta Kappa and Elocutionist he is. Herman Hickman had had his screen test before that audience of two on the Army diner. But casting back to the patriarchs of football for a moment it was Lonnie Stagg who illustrated the great difference that has come to football. In 1890, he both coached and played. Chicago was to play Illinois. Stagg was heard in practice so Illinois asked him to referee, which he did. Can you imagine Army asking that of Navy's Eddie Erdelatz today if their teams were involved? There was no complaint about Stagg's work as an official. Another thing about Stagg was he couldn't allow any rough language by his players. He demanded clean play and clean language. And here, ladies and gentlemen, is Granny himself from a transcription made in 1947 at a Rose Bowl testimonial luncheon at which Granny paid his tribute to the 92-year-young coach. Alonzo Stagg was an honored guest. Take it away, Granny. Gentlemen, I'm very glad to see that hope, like Lonnie Stagg, still springs eternal. I say him here. It was just 58 years ago, back in 1889, that Walter Camp picked a young follower by the name of Amos Alonzo Stagg as the greatest end in America. For 57 years, he has been one of the greatest coaches this game has ever known and I only wished, I could tell you, the influence he has left. I might say that the reason he's probably lasted 57 years is that this Stagg at Eve never tried to drink his fill. I am going to just finish with just a few lines that I think illustrate Mr. Stagg better than anything else I could say. Only the lion rules the land that is welped in the desert's fire. Only the stallion leads the band with hopes unmarked and mired. The heights for the eagle to preen and dream. Only the game fish swims upstream. Well, that's it for today. Now this is Jimmy Powers transcribed, wishing you all the best of the going that confronts the game fish.