graduated from Deerfield Academy, after being an all-state player at
Springfield, Mass. Technical High School, 79 colleges offered him scholarships:
all the Big Ten schools, every one of the Ivies, Notre Dame, UCLA. Today, if he
were one step faster he would be a sure bet for the pros; he has size and
power, can pass and punt. But Chet Boulris has never been sorry he picked
Harvard. "What I missed in football," he says, "I feel I have more
than made up for in other ways."
Boulris is a
tough kid who made good. His father is dead, his mother and sister have only
modest means and weren't in favor of Chet's going to college. At Harvard, where
he receives a scholarship—Ivy League scholarships are usually based on
need—Boulris was frequently in trouble throughout his first two years. He was a
borderline student floundering amidst the demands of pre-med and athletics; he
was a rowdy on the field, sometimes a braggart and a wise guy in class. He
didn't have a chip on his shoulder, he had the entire board.
But during his
junior year a marvelous transformation came over Boulris. He buckled down to
his studies and began to make good grades. He has developed exceptional poise
and manners. He is serious and intense, confident and assured.
glasses even when he plays football, because childhood scarlet fever left him
with weak eyes. On kick-offs he has great difficulty picking up the ball in
flight. But when he gets hold of the thing he's awfully hard to stop. Yale
discovered that once again on Saturday.
Dartmouth guard (5 feet 10, 190 pounds)
already a graduate student, Boye considers himself neither a football player
nor an Ivy Leaguer. No one offered him a scholarship when he graduated from
high school, partly because he didn't need it. His father is a partner in a
Wall Street investment house and has a seat on the stock exchange.
plant is so unimpressive," says Boye, who is an exceptional student and
often talks this way, "that when my father took me down to introduce me to
the coaches as a freshman, they asked if I were a halfback."
As for being an
Ivy Leaguer, Boye feels that the expression today means "a tweed bag, a guy
who is stereotyped, and I don't want to be that." There is little danger.
To Bob Boye there are things more important than clothes and clubs—or even
football. At first he wasn't going to play at all this year, and he missed
several weeks of practice. "But when I arrived back at school and saw the
guys out for football, I just had to play. It was an aspect of my life I had to
fulfill. I'd played organized football nine years, and there was a compulsion
to complete it."
Boye will have a
job on Wall Street, too, when he graduates, and he has no worries about his
future. But then he isn't the kind to worry, anyway; Bob has enough
determination and intelligence to make out all right wherever he goes.
Cornell end (6 feet 2, 200 pounds)