Bob Wyczk shook his head.
"Be sure you get the right girl, son," said the old coach. "Be sure she knows what she's getting into. She can be a great help to you in entertaining, serving beer and cheese snacks to visiting coaches in your rumpus room, mothering some of the boys who get homesick, the like of that. But, above all, she's got to be understanding. If she starts riding you for staying out until all hours—on legitimate staff meetings, understand—you're headed for trouble. But I advise you to marry, son. The authorities like for a coach to be married. Some places, it's a must."
"But, sir," said Bob Wyczk, "you never married, did you?"
Coach Blenheim got up and walked over to the window and stooped down to look up at the sky. There was silence for a moment and then the coach straightened up and walked back to the desk, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Finally, speaking very low, he said:
"There was a romance in my life, son. I haven't told anybody about it all through the years. Oh, maybe I've dropped a word or so to Doc Fletcher over a beer, but otherwise this little chapter in my life has been locked in here." He put a hand over his heart.
"This was many years ago," Blenheim went on. "I was 34 years of age, she was a year younger. I met her as a result of a hot tip from one of our bird dog alumni. He called me long distance to report that he had found a prospect in this town back in the Blue Ridge Mountains country who was the greatest natural football player he had ever seen. I had great confidence in this bird dog and so I decided to investigate personally."
He turned to Bob Wyzck and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Son, this boy was the equal of Red Grange. I could hardly believe my eyes. He was a coach's dream—he could do everything. Not too bright, but I didn't worry about that. There was no nonsense about such things in those days."
Blenheim shook his head.
"But the boy wouldn't even listen to me. He said I'd have to talk to his mother. He directed me to a diner where she worked as waitress. Before approaching her, I made inquiries around town and found out that she had been married at age 15 to an encyclopedia salesman whom she had since had declared legally dead."