Fryeburg Academy - Academy Bell Yearbook (Fryeburg, ME)

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26 The Academy 7361! spirit at a high pitch. Whenever they fell behind, it was Rickie who kept them in the game, either with a crashing lay-up or a sensational long-shot. To Paul Ramsey, the coach, it was an incredible feat that his boys had ac- complished by qualifying for the sectionals. His surprise turned to amazement when his relatively inexperienced team squeaked through the sectionals and thus earned a berth in the huge state tournament at Butler Field House. To- night, after watching his team defeat powerful Mt. Washington in the last two seconds, he was completely speechless. The 14,000 fans that were jammed into the huge field house, however, were far from speechless, and the place was a bedlam after the most exciting game in state tournament history. Slowly the noise subsided, as a tall, lean man made his way to the microphone to present the awards. He was chairman of the tourna- ment. The attention of the crowd was immediately centered upon him. He pre- sented gold basketballs to each member of the losing team, and each player re- ceived a strong round of applause as his name was called. Then the members of the winning team were awarded wrist watches that would be worn by every boy for many a year. A hush fell over the crowd, for there was one more award to be given-the most valuable player award. This award is the most cherished and sought after in the state basketball competition. It is a huge gold-plated statue of a basketball player and is given to the boy that is most valuable to his team. To win this award a boy must have unusual ability, sportsmanship, and teamwork. A hush fell over the crowd as the chairman held up the trophy and asked Rickie to step forward. Rickie was taken completely by surprise. He ac- cepted the trophy humbly amid the cheers of teammates, opponents, and spec- tators. lt was about fifteen minutes before Rickie made his way down to the locker room. He had been congratulated by everyone within shouting distance of him and numerous pictures were taken of him for the newspapers. As he entered the humid locker room, he was cheered and praised. Rickie sat down on the bench and started to peel off his gold and blue uniform. He was tired and sweaty but very happy. Taking some soap, he stepped into the shower and relaxed as the warm shower beat against his weary body. He became drowsy, and his eyes seemed to close. Suddenly he was jolted. He opened his eyes in amazement and stared unbelievingly at his mother. Come, Rickie, time to get up! Remember, you play Mt. Washington at the field house tonight, and I want you to have a good breakfastf, WILLIAM NIEMAN, '51 THE GREAT MISTAKE THE game was almost over. To Ieff Hamilton it was the end of football as this was the last game he'd ever play. He was a senior at Eaton College, and besides

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The tffcadcnzy Bell 25 of geese in their true V -formation, winging their way toward the far distant southland's ponds and streams. Once, as we poked out around a bend, a half dozen blacks jumped into the air and hit for points upriver in a glistening harmony of white breasts and blackish wings. As the noble birds were wildly beating their wings for more altitude, I was mechanically following the lead drake with my shotgun. As the ducks wheeled over the tree tops directly to the port of us, I realized that they were too far out for my usixteenf' I wasn't disappointed. You wouldn't have been either if you could have witnessed the anxiety of those waterfowls in their struggle to escape the dreaded hunter. Soon we came to the grassy sleuth that was the inlet to the big marsh. As Tom and I stepped carefully ashore on the bank of the tiny inlet, a Hash of brown glory spiraled from beneath our very feet! The dog was immediately at atten- tion, but as for myself, I was too startled to do anything but gaze through the branches where the grouse had disappeared. Old Tom was rather disappointed in me, and said as much in his reproachful expression. We were soon settled snugly in the duck blind with our decoys floating around out in front. The day passed quickly with many flights of duck and geese wing- ing over us. At the end of the day, four ducks had fallen to my gun along with a giant speckled uhonkerf' Old Tom was quite pleased with himself, when we returned to our canoe in the late afternoon. The sun was settling down behind the sugar maples on the river bank as I guided the canoe to a landing in front of our pickup truck parked on the bank. I soon had the canoe and equipment loaded, and Old Tom and I turned back toward the river and the setting sun for one more look. There was never a sight more beautiful than that long V of Canadian Honkers dropping across the face of the sun, as with cupped wings they settled down toward the big marsh and a long, safe night,s rest and feed. I turned away with a glad heart. Never in my life had I seen nature portray herself as gloriously as in that day afield. IAMES R. LACAscE, '52 THE HERO Two seconds before the final buzzer, Rickie found himself holding the ball about forty feet from the basket. Taking a step to the side, he Hung the ball desperately at the hoop. The ball sailed upwards towards the metal hoop and, as the buzzer sounded, dropped cleanly through the cords for the game-winning basket. Delirious teammates and spectators mobbed him, slapping him on the back and congratulating him. Some of the boys grabbed him and hoisted him to their shoulders while others sought out the coach. Rickie felt his heart beat- ing and knew he had experienced the greatest thrill in sports. He was the hero tonight, fighting and hustling throughout the whole game, and keeping team

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The Vfcadcmy 'Bell 27 playing varsity football for two years and being captain third, he had played varsity baseball and basketball. He was an honor student, and well-liked on the campus. This game was the biggest of the year, the play-off between Eaton and David- son colleges for the state title. Both teams were undefeated and were crack foot- ball machines. The players, coaches, and even the managers, had been drilled with exacting precision into living and thinking football. The day was perfect for football, and of the many thousands in the stadium, almost everyone was yelling at the top of his lungs, but the players couldnit hear that. They were obsessed by the thought of winning this all-important game. The score stood 6-6 with the ball resting on the Eaton thirty-five. With only a few minutes of playing time remaining, the quarterback of Eaton decided to pass. The pass went to Ieff out by his left end, but he was hit hard by a would-be tackler and spun around. Somewhat dazed, he kept right on going toward his own goal! His teammates caught him and tried to bring him down, but in vain. He crossed the goal line, and a man from Davidson brought him down. There just wasn't time enough left to undo the terrible damage and Davidson won 8-6. The despair and desolation in the stands was depressing. In the dressing room Ieff, hurriedly taking a shower and dressing, could hear the vicious undercur- rents which were ripping him apart. He could well imagine what the players were saying, and he felt they were justified in saying it. Years had passed since that game, and Ieff had put on weight. He was grey- ing slightly, and he had an air of authority about him. The years had been good to Iefif, and he had risen to great heights in the transportation business. He was very well-to-do. Much of his money he spent on Eaton trying, by giving to his college, to compensate for his terrific blunder in that long-past game. He gave money for the new Held house and stadium and art building. He was President of the Board of Trustees. The year of his twenty-fifth reunion Ielf had returned to his alma mater for the big celebration. As he walked into the large reception hall, he was greeted by many friends and admirers, but his ears caught a remark that filled him with anguish. Someone had just greeted him when another man walked into the room, strolled over to a fellow standing by the wall and asked, Who is that big wheel?,' The reply was, Oh, that,s Ieff Hamilton, you know, the man who lost the game to Davidson twenty-five years agoll' IOHN FREIDAY, '52 WATCH THE BIRDIE AGTILT your head to the left, please. Tuck your right elbow in a little. Now you aren't as sober as all that, are you? How about a nice smile? I promptly pasted a sickly grin on my perspiring face. There was a second's pause before the final