"Dorothy," began Biggie.
"Furthermore," the visitor rushed on, reading from the Facts Book, "between 1950 and 1953, your football teams here at Michigan State ran up a 28-game winning streak. Your 1952 team was rated national champion. Your 1953 team beat UCLA in the Rose Bowl."
Biggie turned to his secretary: "Dorothy, am I right about being the only man—living or dead—who was awarded those four citations up there?"
"Well," said Dorothy, pondering, "did Bennie Oosterbaan of Michigan get all four?"
Biggie snapped his fingers. "Forgive me. You're perfectly right, Dorothy. But wait a minute here. I wouldn't forget Bennie unless there was some reason for it. I wouldn't have said I was the only man—living or dead—-unless there was some basis for the statement in fact. Give me a minute here." He paced the office, scanning the team photographs.
The memories crowded in on him. "There's the team," he said, pointing, "that beat UCLA 28-20 in the Rose Bowl game of January 1, 1954. There's Billy Wells. He was something special. He had some problems when he came here and I sort of took a special interest in him. I won't say I was like a father to him, that's not the word, but maybe more like an uncle to whom he could turn for counsel. I got him to mix in more with his teammates and his classmates. And, if you recall, he made that 62-yard run for a touchdown in the Rose Bowl. What people don't know is that Billy ran by the bench after the play and pointed a finger at me and said, 'That was for you, Biggie.' "
Biggie walked along, examining the pictures. '"There's 'Little Dynamite' George Guerre in 1947."
"Say," exclaimed the visitor, "I met George when you and Duffy Daugherty and I were standing outside the Jack Tar Hotel in Lansing before the Rotary Club luncheon. I recall your saying that George played for you, and that although he weighed only 155 he had the legs of a 190-pounder. And then Duffy said, "Yes, George was small, but he was slow.' "
"I give George Guerre credit," said Biggie solemnly, "for keeping me in coaching. Back in 1947 I was rather discouraged and just about ready to quit football entirely. Then a game came along and George Guerre broke a leg. Some time later he was speaking at a Quarterbacks luncheon in Flint. Somebody came up to him and said in a rather sarcastic way, 'What kind of guy is this Biggie Munn anyway?' Well, sir, George—still on crutches, if I remember correctly—looked the fellow right in the eye and said, ' Biggie Munn is the kind of a guy you're glad to break a leg for.' Well, I said to myself, if a coach can win this kind of respect from his players, I'm staying with this game."
Biggie walked back to the four framed citations. He studied them closely. Then, suddenly, he snapped his fingers. "I've got it," he cried, striding back to his desk. " Bennie Oosterbaan did get those same four citations. But here's the difference. Bennie chose to go into the Hall of Fame as a player. I chose to go in as a coach. That's the difference. So my original statement still holds good. I'm the only man to hold these four citations exactly as they appear here. Do you follow me? The only man—living or dead!"