Needham High School - Advocate Yearbook (Needham, MA)

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THE ADVOCATE f17J name? Oh yeah, Jarvis. Big fellow, must have weighed two hundred pounds. Fast though, and surprisingly light on his feet for a man of his size. He and Flash were almost tied for scoring honors. Jarvis was good, no question about it, but he was an individual player, not a team man like Flash. And then, too, he was inclined to take advantage of his size to scare the smaller players. Heid been disqualified several times for fighting and for personal fouls. Well, as I say, he and Flash were pretty close in scoring honors. I do1'1't think Flash cared so much for the seorer's cup as he did for this onef' pointing to the trophy before him. MThat game took place twenty-three years ago, but I can still remember it. With the championship and scoring cups at stake, the game drew a big crowd. I can still remember the brightly lit gym, the running, shouting players, the changing scoreboard, and the noisy crowd because I was so impressed that night. You know we don't get many exciting moments in this town, and any event like that is remembered for a long time. Of course, the details are a bit hazy, but I know that Jarvis ran wild in the first half and piled up, Lt big score. There were lots of times when he should have passed, but he wouldn't. lt was all Jarvis and to blazes with Brewster. lt looked bad for Attica, but in the second half Flash ffot froinff and when he ffot Uoinf' D D D7 C D U7 the rest of the 7 team couldnt keep up with him. Well, we gradually crept up on them, until, with one minute to play, Brewster led Attica by one point and Jarvis led Flash by one point. Jarvis was getting pretty nervous and also pretty rough. He certainly wanted that cup, all right. The gym was like a mad- house. I never heard such a racket in all my life. There were just seconds left to play when Flash got a break and dribbled down the floor but Jarvis forced him toward a corner. He stopped and got set to shoot. It was a tough angle shot, but he probably could have sunk it. He was always best in a pinch. I suppose Jarvis thought he was going to shoot, but instead, he passed, or tried to pass to another man left uncovered under the basket. But as he threw it, Jarvis drew back his fist and let fly. I suppose he just lost his head and did it without realizing. He caught Flash right on the point of the chin and he went out like a light-stone cold. Butfeas he threw the ball, it bounced off Jarvis' fist and looped through the basket as neat as you please, just as the bell rang, ending the game. I don't expect you to believe that, but itis the truth. Well, sir, you could have heard a pin drop. The noise stopped just as if a blanket had been dropped over the whole crowd. Everyone just held his breath and gasped. Nobody even moved. The only noise was the ball bouncing up and down underneath the basket. I ran over to where Flash was. There he was, flat on the floor, Jarvis standing over him, stupefied. The middle finger of the right hand was broken between the knuckle and the first joint. He was staring at it with the blankest expression I ever saw on mortal man. I remember how the bone stuck out like a candy cane at the bottom of a Christmas stocking. 1,11 never forget that scene as long as I live. I kneeled beside Flash and was trying to bring him to. Then the crowd started to rumble. It sounded dangerous, so the Brewster team hurried Jarvis off to the dressing room where the crowd couldn't get at him. I think he was almost as unconscious as Flash. He seemed unable to understand what he had done. We took Flash to our dressing room and doused him under a cold shower. He came to all right and all he had was a headache. It was an awful sock, though, he must have been outweighed eighty pounds. HI donit think there were a dozen people in tI1e audience who realized that Attica had won the game. Nobody paid any attention to the ball, they just saw Flash go down. Attica won the championship but Jarvis wo11

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l16j THE ADVOCATE built. He might have been a wrestler or a shot-putter in his younger days. The two glanced at each other, but no sign of recogni- tion passed between them. The big man was evidently a stranger, for like most small-town business men, the other knew everyone in his community. The stranger glanced about the room. nQuite a museum here, he remarked. 44Yes-yes it is,', said the smaller man absently, without looking up. A moment or two elapsed, the stranger wan- dering about the room, the other still gazing at the cup. Suddenly, he seemed to break the trance which held him. Then, as if to atone for the apparent coldness with which he had answered the stranger's remark, he said:- Quite a story behind the winning of this cup. '4That so? said the stranger, stepping up to view it more closely. 'LThere7s a moral to it, too. I used to tell it to my boy when he was in school. He paused, waiting for a sign of concern from the stranger. 4'Sounds II1lCl'CSllIlg,,, said the prospective audience, invitingly. f'Not very familiar here, are you? he began. Then of course you donit know what kind of an athletic record this school has. Well, ruefully, Nit's not very good, in fact this cup represents the only championship that we ever won. I say Gwei because I played on the team that won it. Ohgonly a sub- stitute guardf, he added apologetically, ubut it gave me an intimate knowledge of the team that the ordinary spectator never gotf, We had a crackerjack team that year, and the whole school was all pepped up about it. Weid never had a championship and every- body was looking for us to come through. There were ten teams in the league, each to play the other teams twice on a hon1e-and- home basis. There were some pretty good players in that league, too. A lot of them were later corking good college players. For a small-town league, it certainly put on some mighty fine games. Then, to make it all the more interesting, old John Frothingham put up a cup to be awarded to the highest scorer in the league, in addition to the regular championship cup. Old John was quite a sports fan and basketball was his craze. He died, ohf 'bout twelve years ago, I guess, and he left quite a sum of money to the athletic fund. Here, the speaker stopped to light his pipe. MCan,t talk without in' pipe. uWell, we had a forward named Fred Burns, captain of the team-Tlashi, we called him. Only a little fellow, stood about five- four and weighed, ohfwell,-not more than one-twenty, but could he play basketball! Like a cat on his feet and fast as greased lightnin'. Had a habit of shootin' baskets from the middle of the Hoor. Always cool and calm, never got excited or rattled. Nice teller, too, popular with everybody. No one hgured on his being a high-scorer, though, be- cause the last year he'd been only fair and his size sorta went against him. But after the first two games, which we won by large scores, heid made about forty points. Then everyone began to sit up and take notice. He didn't hog the shots either. He passed when he should and was all all 'round good team man. Every time he got his hands on the ball, it seemed, we scored. Well, we breezed through seventeen of the eighteen games scheduled and lost only one. That was to Brewster, which had been beaten unexpectedly by Hillsboro. That made us tied with Brewster for first place. The outcome of that last game decided the championship. Whenever I think of that game, I think of what a swell story could be made out of it. Regular Horatio Alger set- ting. You know Attica is to Brewster as Harvard is to Yale, and the rivalry was some keen in those days. There was a center who played for Brewster, lesseefwhat was his

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T181 THE ADVOCATE the scoring trophy, topping Flash by three points. He was given credit for the winning basket because he was the last one to touch it before it went through the hoop, even though it scored against his own team and he didn't shoot it. I don't think he got much satisfaction from that cup. Frothingham refused to present it to him publiclyf, Neff said the stranger, speaking for the first time since the story began. 'GI shouldn't think he would. The other man looked at his watch. Whe-w-w-W. Nine-thirty. My wife must be about ready to go home. I know I am, so I'll say good-night. Hope I havenft bored you. With a jaunty wave of his hand which belied his satisfaction of a story well told, he left the room. The big man stood silently for a moment, staring at the shiny cup. Then he looked at his hands. The middle finger of the right hand was bent and stiff, the result of a break many years before. A week later, Fred Burns, Attorney at Law, received at his office a well-wrapped package. Inside was a small, slightly tarnished silver cup. It was inscribed. HIGH SCORING TROPHY Awarded to FRED BURNS HIGHEST SCORER OF THE GREEN VALLEY BASKETBALL LEAGUE 1910 The name in the inscription had been re-engraved. ON ,IIG-SAW PUZZLES Eunice Whitaker, '33 MI really ought to go and finish those dishes.4Let me see, that piece will have a little doo-hickey on one side and a smooth curve on the end. Oh dear, it doesn't fit I- lVfy coat needs a button sewed on, and my skirt-Oh, thatfs the piece! Why, itfs a cat! Now wherefs his tail? There, that piece is the right color. Does it go there? No! Oh dear.-I'll have to draw hot dish-water, ittll be stone cold by now. Well, I'll just put one more piece in. Now, this piece ought to be easy to find. Square corners-long finger sticking out-where IS that piece?-I mustnft sit here any longer. With all my homework to do after I get the dishes-Hooray! Thatls it! Now a flat piece goes on here-- So on, ad infinitum. This is the sort of thing that is wrecking homes, ruining schol- astic records, sending book and magazine publishers into bankruptcy, and driving us out into the world buttonless. The inevit- able 'fevening of bridgew is now a thing of the past, and the 'fjig-saw puzzle partyw takes its place. Even over the radio, we are in- formed that if we send one label from a one- quart can of a certain paint, the 'fOld Paint- erf, will send us his attractive jig-saw puzzle in jig time. If conditions continue to go the way they are tending now, I have visions of Rem- brandts and Corots cut up into fascinating whirligigs and protruding toes, and even our beloved Senior pictures dissected and spread out upon card tables before distraught puzzle fiends. TO GUY LOMBARDO Clare Slurtevant, '33 A burst of chords of harmonizing tones- And Guy has started. Then, precise and clear Well-rounded notes of trumpets reach the ear, And soft, beneath the melody there moans The low and mellow croon of saxophones. In pauses at the ends of strains we hear The piano's tinkling trillsg and from the rear The low and lazy humming fiddle drones. The whole is such a perfect strain of notes I wonder how some people can refuse To hear, or hearing, do not comprehend The beauty of the tune which smoothly floats Out to the eager listening throng who lose Themselves, immersed in musicfs rhythmic blend.