We hadn't completed four passes that day. But when it's fourth-and-goal from the nine with not much time and you've failed on three running plays, what are you going to do? We didn't have much of a field-goal kicker, either.
We did have a little jump pass. L.M. would take the snap, leap up in the air and try to hit me, cutting across the middle, or Henry Pearson, our right end.
When we came to the set position all I was praying for was that L.M. would throw to Henry.
I guess Victoria knew what we had to do. At the snap I took two steps off the line and cut toward the middle. The linebackers were already falling back so I was able to get underneath them. My next memory was seeing L.M. up in the air with the ball cocked behind his head in his right hand.
He was looking straight at me.
Then I saw the ball aimed at me. I kept waiting for a hand to come out and deflect it, but none did. The next thing I knew, it was cradled in my arms. I instinctively turned upfield.
After that everything kind of turned into slow motion. I caught the ball on about the five. I saw people coming at me, but I somehow evaded them. I remember crossing that broad stripe and punching it into the end zone.
That's the story I told at the letter-sweater presentation, and it went over very well.
The next morning at the motel this young reporter from Brenham's Banner-Press called me and said that he'd gone back in the files and that the game report didn't read anything like that.
I ain't real good in the mornings to begin with, and I believe a call like that would shake up a conservative banker.