One day—I think it was our first league game that year—the Chicago Cardinals were clobbering us. We must have been down 30 points and it was the start of the fourth quarter, and I was sitting on the bench thinking, "Well, at least I'm going to have an easy day from here in." But that admiral was fierce. The Cardinals were just whipping us, but he thought that we was still going to beat 'em. He came over to me and said, "Sam, you better get back in there afore this thing gets out of hand."
Not long after that, Marshall started trying to coach the ball club, himself. We had two-platoon ball by then, and Marshall told the admiral that he had his ball club figured out all wrong—that he ought to have the defensive line being the offensive line and the offensive line ought to be on defense. Marshall told this to the admiral on the train coming home from a game. Marshall said, "Admiral, the next practice I'm coming out there and I want to see it done that way!"
Well, the admiral didn't pay any attention to him at all, and we were out there working one day when here comes Marshall in that big black car of his. He looks at us for a while, then he comes out and stops practice. He says to the admiral, "I thought I told you what to do."
The admiral didn't say a word. He just turned around and walked off the field and got in his car and left. Well, that kind of threw Mr. Marshall, I guess. Meantime, we just stood there. Finally, Marshall told me and a couple of other players—I can't remember who—he told us to get in his car. We were going back to the hotel with Mr. Marshall, and he was really mad. "Why could you let this happen?" he yelled at us. "How could you let that man ruin the ball club?"
We said, " Mr. Marshall, he's the coach. We're just the players."
But Marshall said, "Hell, I hired him as a disciplinarian. I didn't hire him as a coach!"
I thought that was the funniest thing. Oh, that George was wonderful, damn him. In fact, except for having to live in the big city, the whole thing was wonderful.