Football
Bishop McCort, 20; Central Cambria, 14
Conemaugh Township, 33; Blacklick Valley, 20

Friday night football

My interest in football began when I was in eighth grade. That year, Ebensburg High School, which was four years shy of becoming Central Cambria, won the Mountain Conference. The excitement over the team's success filtered down to Mundys Corner Grade School and filled most of the boys, including me, with dreams of becoming football players and continuing the winning tradition. Those of you who have read my column in the past know that when it came to playing football, I had many shortcomings, namely pounds, ounces and inches. Nevertheless, not being able to play didn't take away my enthusiasm for the sport or desire to support the team.

Each Friday evening when the team was playing in Ebensburg, several friends and I would walk to Mundys Corner and hitchhike a ride to Ebensburg where we would usually climb over or crawl under the fence to get into the park. (My support wasn't monetary, unless you count the refreshment stand.) Most of the time, we were lucky enough to find a ride home. These Friday night trips to Ebensburg, scary by today's standards, usually went without incident. That is, usually.

One Friday evening as I left the house there was a light chill in the air so I wore a light jacket to keep me warm. During half time, rain began to fall and before the end of the game the rain turned to snow and turned the field white. My friends and I kept our concentration on the game and didn't notice that the people we would count on for rides back to Mundys Corner left before the game ended. After searching in vain for a ride, we made our way up to route 22 and huddled against the snow and cold as we hitched a ride home. After the crowd from the stadium left, very few cars passed by. Back then, 1953 and 1954, not nearly as many cars traveled 22 as do today. We were soaked and froze by the time the father of one of my friends came looking for us. He turned the heat high to warm us, but my teeth were still chattering when I got home.

The wave 

—Sent by Bob Kennedy

Thought for the day

If anyone would like to acquire humility, I can, I think, tell him the first step. The first step is to realize that one is proud. And a biggish step, too. At least, nothing whatever can be done before it. If you think you are not conceited, it means you are very conceited indeed.

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