[legendsport]

December 8, 1940: Detroit, MI:

"We have the receipts, sir," an excitable young man told Rollie Barrell.

As Rollie opened his mouth to tell the kid (an intern from Detroit City College named Jack McCarver) for the umpteenth time to just call him "Rollie" (which the lad wouldn't countenance) or at least "Mr. Barrell", Powell Thompson butted-in (as he was wont to do).

"Give me that, kid," he said and grabbed the piece of paper from McCarver's outstretched hand.

Rollie frowned, but he was just the tenant here. For about the one-hundredth time he wished Big Eddie was still around. But Edward Thompson was gone to his heavenly reward and his little brother (both literally and figuratively) was now the owner of Thompson Field, the Thompson Palladium and the Detroit Dynamos baseball team. He was therefore, much to Rollie's chagrin, his landlord and under the lease agreement half of the proceeds from ticket sales were his.

"32,980. Not bad," Thompson said. "Could be better, but this football thing of yours is doing well, Barrell."

"Thanks Powell," Rollie replied. Thompson looked up at him, his eyes slightly narrowed in annoyance. Rollie was momentarily confused, then took a step back. Thompson was short, and as such he didn't like it when taller men (Rollie was six feet tall) "hovered over" him - which apparently meant standing within three feet or so.

The door to the suite opened and Jack Barrell walked in. "Sorry I'm late, Rollie," he told his brother. He turned to Thompson and shook his hand, "Mr. Thompson," he said with a nod. Jack was the coach of the Detroit Olympians hockey club, which also played in a Thompson-owned venue: the Thompson Palladium right across the street.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready for your game?" Rollie asked Jack.

"Naw, I'm just the coach. Not like I have to limber up or anything. Besides," he looked at his watch, "our game doesn't start for another four hours."

Thompson was eyeing young Jack McCarver. "How old are you kid?" he asked.

"Twenty-one, sir," McCarver replied.

"He's a senior at City College," Rollie told Thompson.

"Hmm. That so?" Thompson was still glaring at the kid.

"Yes, sir," McCarver replied warily.

"What are you studying?"

"Business, though I hope to play pro football first," McCarver replied.

Thompson rolled his eyes. "So you're just another jock... fantastic!"

He pointed at Rollie and said, "I want to check these receipts." He turned his pointed finger to McCarver and added, "Let's go, kid. These numbers better be right or I'll kick your tail to Kalamazoo. I don't trust so-called athletes with anything that requires using their noggins."

Thompson grabbed McCarver by the arm and headed for the door. Rollie threw the youungster a look of commiseration.

After the door to the owner's suite banged closed, Jack raised his eyebrows and said, "That guy sure is a laugh, isn't he?"

"You said it brother," Rollie replied.

The two men settled in to watch the game, chatting off and on. Jack was a former pro football player and caught as many of the Maroons games as he could given his duties as the Olympians coach. It still surprised both brothers that they, born in Brooklyn and raised in Georgia, had ended up making their careers in Detroit of all places.

The scoreboard showed 7-0 for the visiting Brooklyn Football Kings over Rollie's Detroit Maroons as the gun sounded to end the first quarter. Rollie explained that the Kings had taken the lead on a 5-yard run by Jackie Herstad. Jack nodded and said, "Herstad runs hard, I like him."

"I'd like him too if he wasn't playing for the opposition," Rollie muttered, making Jack laugh. Making matters worse, the Kings were at the 1-yard line looking for their second touchdown of the game.

This was the AFA Championship Game, and Jack was rooting for his brother's club, but he also enjoyed good, hard play and harbored a soft spot for his former team the Chicago Wildcats. Rollie's club had outlasted the Wildcats to capture the Western Division title and the right to host this title game.

On the first play of the second quarter Brooklyn increased its lead as QB Hal Collett shoved his way into the endzone and then booted the extra point himself to make it 14-0.

"Your boys need a scoring drive," Jack told Rollie. Rollie shook his head and bit back a sharp retort.

Things took a bad turn when the Maroons' Joe Shores fumbled after taking the kickoff out to the 36 yard line, giving the Kings the ball right back. The Detroit defense forced an incompletion on first down, stuffed Russel Hitzeman for a two-yard loss and then Collett missed an open receiver to force fourth down. Hitzemann attempted a 34 yard field goal, but it went wide left and the score remained 14-0.

Rollie breathed a sigh of relief and gave a cheer a moment later when Detroit QB Dewey Burnett hit end Stan Vaught for a 31-yard gain pushing the ball just past midfield.

"I told you that pair would work well together," Jack told his brother. Rollie smiled and nodded.

The Maroons pushed the ball to the Kings' 29 yard line. On 4th and 3, Maroons coach Frank Yurik elected to go for it. Jack muttered something under his breath that sounded like he thought this was risky and Rollie also didn't like it. Burnett took the snap, dropped back and tossed the ball deep towards Vaught. The throw went long and a collective groan went up across the ballpark. Rollie shook his head and heard Jack mutter a word that would have earned him a stern look from Alice Barrell.

Neither team did much, though the Detroit defense did intercept Collett twice before halftime (one of them by Dewey Burnett). The score remained 14-0 at halftime. Jack McCarver appeared in the suite during halftime as a Coast Guard band played "Yankee Doodle" on the field. He told them that Thompson had left after verifyng that the ticket sales totals were accurate. "I don't like that guy," McCarver told the Barrells who both nodded and chuckled.

The Kings added a field goal to their tally in the third quarter while their defense continued to blank the Maroons. It was 17-0 as the final period started and Rollie was growing ever more resigned to losing the championship game at home.

Brooklyn pushed their lead to 23-0 early in the final stanza. "Well, right now, I'd love to see my boys at least avoid the shutout," Rollie told his brother. The normally accurate Burnett was just... off. To Rollie's eyes he was missing more receivers in this game than he normally did in a month of games. Finally, with 3:44 left to play, Burnett hit Morris Huffamn for a nine-yard score to put Detroit on the board. The defense forced a three & out but Burnett was interecepted by Don Ludwigs with 1:50 to play and that sealed any hope of a miraculous comeback. The final was 23-7, Brooklyn.

"I know you're down in the dumps right now, Rollie," Jack said. "But I think you've caught lightning in a bottle. Vaught might be the best end I've ever seen. And Yurik's an arrogant prig, but he knows football. He's going to center the offense around Vaught and he's going to change the game. Your boys will have an excellent shot at winning this thing in the next few years."

Rollie gave a small, sad smile and nodded. He patted Jack on the shoulder and said, "Thanks."

"I'm not blowing smoke, Rollie. That's the unvarnished truth, as Pop would say."

"Maybe," Rollie said. "I just hope we don't end up getting pulled into the war. I'm not sure the league would survive if half our players ended up in the Army, you know?"

"Yeah," Jack said with a frown. "I can relate. Most of my players are Canadians and Canada is already in the war. So far, it hasn't disrupted us much, but that's liable to change with Britain and her Commonwealth standing pretty much alone."

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