RSSRobert E. Peary Football ’71-‘72
May 26
Glory Days athlete, football, Glory Days, high school football, Robert E. Peary High School No Comments
A new football season, and with it came hope that I might make the varsity squad. Although I had acquainted myself well the previous season on the junior varsity squad, it had not, in anyway, paved a way for me on such a talented, traditionally rich, powerful team.
I felt once again, as in my sophomore year, inadequate. Even if I could make the squad, it was rare for many juniors to even start. The defense that I aspired to had man-beasts coming back as seniors—the likes of John Cornett, Bear Robinson, the Butcher brothers, just to name a few.
All seemed like grown men to me, but to my credit I had filled out since my sophomore year. I had put on more weight; I believe about 190 pounds now—up 15 pounds from the previous year—and 6 feet tall.
As summer 2-a-day practices began, I was, to my surprise, put to a new position from last year: Defensive End. Coach Williams (a cool, smooth coach who always carried a 9-iron golf club around) was to be my coach.
During the middle of one particular practice, he pulled me aside and informed me as to his desires of how I could help the team. My speed and reckless-abandon hitting style had to be more controlled if I was to be his right defensive end. He conveyed to me his belief in me to do the job IF, throughout the coming weeks, I would meet these expectations.
With this I had hope to make the squad.
During the coming weeks, I gave over 100% in drills and scrimmage. The control of my high-octane motor became more controlled. In a 6-2 defensive, 6 down lineman and 2 linebackers, I was the last man to contain sweeps.
I could not afford to be sealed off. My job was to contain and turn everything ‘in’ if I could not make the tackle; or as a last resort, string it out to the sideline.
It slowly came. My new assignment came easy, but my intense nature in some scrimmages left me looking foolish more times than I care to remember. Many times I was grabbed by the facemask, both by coach and John Cornet (our captain), and chewed out.
John was one of our two linebackers. He was less than 6 feet tall, but pushed over 220 pounds. Bear, the other linebacker, was well over 6 feet and 235 pounds. Both devastating hitters and I aspired to their abilities. I wanted their approval—that would mean more than the coaches somehow.
As the season approached and summer wound down, the last cut was posted next to Coaches office. I held back as the hopefuls of the previous year clamored to see their name.
I remember our quarterback John Chase from the J.V. squad didn’t even look at the posting. He was the number one back up to Steve Matheson and would be playing safety on defense (he played both ways). I should also say, starting off defense, John was a most gifted athlete about 6’3”, 220 lbs., played all the major sports and started. He played quarterback in football, catcher in baseball and, I believe, the forward position in basketball.
I moved forward as the group found, or did not find as the case may be, their name. Dean Cokas, pulling away, told me I made it and that he had too. I smacked his shoulder and remember not believing him somehow. I had to see my name for myself.
As I scanned the positions, I saw ‘Defense’. There it was! My name! I remember wanting to cry, but didn’t. I also saw I was to be a starter at defensive end.
Unbeknownst to me, Coach Williams had been observing the hopefuls, golf club in hand, in the doorway. As I backed away, giving a audible sigh, I looked over at Coach, he smiled and gave me a ‘well-done’ wink. The he disappeared back into his office.
Water filled my eyes so I went into the bathroom stall to compose myself.
After the dust had settled, only a few juniors, as in past years, were starters. John Chase, Dean Cokas (who the previous year played beside me) at gap guard. At least he would see a lot of time. Jan Zlotnick, a fast, strong tailback and I believe Snyder at center. There might be another, but 37 years ago haze it a little.
We were a formidable looking team, vastly talented, big, even for today’s standards, in 4A/5A schools.
As the season progressed, we were the dominant team except for maybe Richard Montgomery High School, which always fielded good teams in Montgomery County. The Washington Post ranked the Washington, D.C. area schools of Northern Virginia, Southern Maryland teams throughout the season.
We were one, two or three every week.
If you remember the movie “Remember the Titans”, an integrated High School in Virginia, T.C. Williams was that High School and we vied with them that year for #1—the year so famously portrayed on film.
As the last game of season came, it had been mad clear that the championship would be the winner the Peary vs. Montgomery contest.[i] I should say here, Maryland did not have State Championship playoffs then, at least in Football. We were vying for Montgomery County Champions, our Super Bowl.
The week in preparation that would determine the champions, I was acutely aware of the meaning of what was at stake—Championship runs don’t come often. You can be a contender often as Peary was, but for me this was my chance.
Richard Montgomery High had a big, formidable team, much like ours, but they had a back named Summerall—big, powerful, bruising running back—at what I would guess 220 lbs. or more with tree trunk legs. We had to shut him down to be successful.
We knew we could contain the passing game with our D-backs, Chase, Forienger and the others. Even our body pounding linebackers were so very good in covering pass plays.
Through the week we prepared. I watched Summerall on film. God, he looked like an offensive guard! Once he got the speed up, which I must say was in the blink of an eye, he reminds me now of a running back that played for Cal. University last year and will be drafted this year.
My whole focus was Summerall. They liked to run the sweep, which would bring me into great importance: contain him inside or string it out to the sideline till pursuit could close in.
He had a propensity to break off his protection and ‘cowboy’ it and make his own path of destruction. Summerall could also be destructive inside. Although I had no doubt Bear and John were more than a match he had seen before. I remember thinking they would be outside testing the ends on the upcoming Saturday.
As Saturday came round, it was a gorgeous fall afternoon. The bronze cast day that only autumn brings, 60-70 degrees. Game time: 2:00PM.
The guess-timate was 8,000 fans—seats maxed out. The crowd spilled over the hill on the home side of the field. This was Montgomery’s turf, the outskirts of the county seat—Rockville, Maryland. People spread 2-3 deep around the fencing. Being used to loud, large crowds, this was unlike I had been apart of before.
The bus ride to Richard Montgomery High School was only about 15-20 minutes, most of it on Viers Mill Rd. across Rockville Pike Rd. where the battle was to be contended.
During the Civil War a great army had come this way, perhaps on the very ground yet to be battled out that afternoon. The confederacy under General Stuart had flanked the union army and come between Washington, D.C. and the main fighting force, which had been shadowing Robert E. Lee in the Shenandoah Mountains. Stuart, though, had collected booty and such, and then proceeded north to link up via north of Gettysburg to fight an epic battle days later.
On this autumn day, it was two high schools.
We arrived with the usual silence on the bus, which was tradition. As soon as the bus left Peary, quiet was observed and time to contemplate one’s job and conviction of carrying it out.
As I disembarked the bus, I could see the pregame activities, the respective teams, fans, banners, bands. It was something to behold, even in my memory I’ve never been apart of something since.
We disappeared into the locker-room to put our gear on and have a last minute meeting.
I was not nervous, but strangely calm. Previous games I was good and nervous wanting to get that first good hit in. To get my game attitude adjusted. I did not doubt myself for the first time in high school football.
During pregame warm-ups, I saw what was around me for the first time. Previous pregame warm-ups, I never looked into the stands, only the football field. It was awe-inspiring. I felt chills. I thought, this is it, one game, one struggle, nothing would I leave on the field as far as effort.
The game, as a spectator, was boring I’m guessing. It was a supreme struggle between the 30-yard lines for the most part. I was hammered like never before. I yielded, but never broke. Summerall knocked me senseless at least twice.
He drove his knee into the side of my helmet as I strung him out to the sideline and out of bounds. The other time I slammed into him thinking I got lower then he, but he bested me and drove over the top. I heard the crash of his helmet square in the facemask.
I do not know how but as he ran over me I got an ankle and stopped a sure long gainer. As I foggily got up off the turf, I was smacked excitedly by Bear Robinson and heard him congratulating my effort. Summerall had caused the bottom of my facemask, Dick Butkus style—my favorite NFL player of all time) to contort in the shape of a ‘U’.
Bear and Cornet had shut them down inside. The D-backs had done their job. Our offense had struggled against their defense. The day had come down to a blocked field goal. We blocked their point after their touch down.
Score: 7-6, Robert E. Peary High. We were champions. I was a champion, one of my shining moments in the sun. The long cast autumn day at conclusion was glorious. I remember there was a photo taken that was in the paper and the yearbook. I’m sorry to say I do not remember his name, but he was an offensive guard wearing our navy blue jersey with red and white stripes around the bicep, white helmet with the husky emblazed on the side. He held the helmet high with one hand and gesturing with the other, #1.
I was a part of something special, something 2 years before, I never thought I would have been able to achieve. My daddy believed in me. Coach Williams believed in me. Now John Cornet and Bear Robinson now believed in me.
As life moved on, we fell to #2-3 as a team in the D.C. area, but in my heart and mind we were #1.
It was an experience, my first experience really played out in full, in human’s need to have belief in one another to accomplish a common goal.
To those of that year, it’s a gift I cherish to this day. I see your faces clearly at each position and all the supportive players who were cast. Each of you gave me a gift that now is even more special than ever. My life, such as it is, is mostly reflection of days past. Because of you and the dedication that year, it is a warm shining moment of pride in days of constant battle.
Thank you 1971-72 Huskies!
[i] Peary’s defense allowed less than 27 points that year, 1971-72.
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