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A SECOND FIDDLE FINISHES FIRST
Mervin Hyman
December 07, 1964
For five frustrating years Army could not handle the only team on its schedule that really mattered: Navy. And for the last two of those years, Army's line quarterback, Rollie Stichweh (No. 16 and pronounced, please. Stitch-way), played second fiddle to Navy Quarterback Roger Staubach, (far left), who seemed able to turn every play into a chariot race. Staubach made All-America, won a Heisman Trophy and relegated most of his opposing counterparts to "Who's he?" status.
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December 07, 1964

A Second Fiddle Finishes First

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For five frustrating years Army could not handle the only team on its schedule that really mattered: Navy. And for the last two of those years, Army's line quarterback, Rollie Stichweh (No. 16 and pronounced, please. Stitch-way), played second fiddle to Navy Quarterback Roger Staubach, (far left), who seemed able to turn every play into a chariot race. Staubach made All-America, won a Heisman Trophy and relegated most of his opposing counterparts to "Who's he?" status.

But last Saturday Army and Stichweh settled accounts. Army beat Navy 11-8, and even though a prankish Navy announcer emphasized Stichweh's comparative obscurity by introducing him to the crowd as "Stee-which," the Army quarterback outplayed Staubach as no player had before. Navy Coach Wayne Hardin may not have helped his cause when he told a pep rally crowd what he thought of Army Coach Paul Dietzel: "I've never heard a man talk so much and win so little." The comment brought only a smile from Dietzel—but it was less the smile of a press agent than of a crocodile.

Since early last winter Dietzel had been studying films of the Cotton Bowl game, where Texas almost ate Staubach alive. The lessons were graphic enough. Blitz the agile ends at Staubach while the slow-footed guards and tackles cover the middle. And tackle Staubach high, not allowing him to dance away.

On Navy's second play, Staubach went straight back to pass. But before he could start his jitterbugging, three Army linemen forced the Navy quarterback into a sitting position. That was ignominious enough, but the worst part was he was sitting in his own end zone—a humiliation worth two points to Army.

After that Stichweh had the time of his life, sprinting away from the center and skirting Navy's ends. And when Navy adjusted to that maneuver, he either completed soft, accurate passes or deftly handed off to Halfback John Seymour and Fullback Donald Parcells coming back on beautifully executed counterplays that always seemed to gain yardage when the effect was most devastating. So well did Rollie Stichweh carry out his duties, in fact, that by the game's end it seemed that everybody among the 100,000 in Philadelphia's John F. Kennedy Stadium knew how to pronounce the name—at least as well as Staubach's.

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