O.K., coach, but it is safe to wager that no one will ever hear of George Bailey, mostly because his name is Tom Bailey. But, then, Peterson never will win any prizes for remembering names. Tom Bailey is a 6'2", 212-pound sophomore, and, at the moment, is Florida State's second-string fullback behind John Pittman, but the moment may not last long. "I know he's never played a varsity game," says Peterson, "but every night I knock on wood and cross my fingers and rub my rabbit's foot and hope that nothing happens to him. He's going to be a magnificent athlete. Think what a boy like that could do to take the pressure off our passing attack."
The offensive line is smaller than Peterson would like, but it lost only Guard Wayne McDuffie through graduation so it is experienced. In this case FSU might trade some of the experience for more weight, especially in the middle. Billy Rhodes, the lone big man at 240, will handle one tackle and Jack Fenwick, 226, the other. Both are better than average. Guards Larry Pendleton, 212, and Stan Walker, 207, are quick enough to make up most of what they give away in poundage. Ted Mosley, a 213-pound senior center, is an excellent pass blocker.' 'The other people only got to our passer 14 times last year," said Peterson. "That's not bad."
Defensively, Florida State is deep at every position, with a fast, proven secondary, strong linebacking—led by Dale McCullers and Chuck Elliott—and a line that is quick; but it, too, is small.
Should his offense falter, and with Sellers that is unlikely, Peterson hopes that he has a good placekicker in Grant Guthrie, a junior who hit nine of 14 field goals and 26 of 27 extra points last year. What Guthrie did not do was get an indicated knee operation, and he is being watched anxiously.
If Sellers stays well, FSU has a chance of winning them all, including its big ones against Florida, Texas A&M and Houston. Even if it does not win, it is going to shake up the crowds. Fifty yards and a cloud of Sellers makes for a rousing offense.
Poor Charlie is on the hot seat and only a thrower can give him a lift
The chair that Charlie McClendon occupies in his paneled office under LSU's Tiger Stadium is leather covered, reclines and has wheels. It is a nice chair, except for the ever-warmer seat that it seems to develop during football season. It has been that way for McClendon ever since he inherited this head coach's chair from Paul Dietzel seven years ago. Dietzel won a national championship for LSU back in 1958, and no one in Louisiana for, lo, these 10 long years has ever felt that anything less than No. 1 was really up to snuff.
It hardly has been fair for LSU boosters to keep the heat on Charlie McClendon's chair year after year, because he has done almost nothing to deserve such treatment. Admittedly, he is not a Dietzel. Paul is tall and blond with a Madison Avenue mien and a GL-70 smile. Charlie is large and blocky, an Arkansas backslapper who gives names like "bushwhacker" to his roving safetyman, and when he decides he wants "something distinctive" for his team he thinks of such things as gold helmets with wild purple tiger stripes slashed across the top—he even may buy them next year.
But perhaps LSU is finally beginning to suspect that Charlie McClendon is building a record that can compare with anybody's. He is 44-17-4 at LSU while facing a schedule that would tire out a tiger. His teams have gone to five bowl games in seven years. His 1962 Tigers upset unbeaten Texas in the Orange Bowl, his 1965 team broke Arkansas's 17-game winning streak and his 1967 squad dumped undefeated Wyoming 20-13 in the Sugar Bowl. But Charlie McClendon is still troubled by the back-chair coaches up there in the LSU stands.