“Those Who Stay: The 50th Anniversary” is a historical fiction series based on a true story and draws on first-hand interviews with the players and coaches of the 1969 Michigan Football program. It will be ongoing through the 2019 Michigan/Ohio State game.
“Those Who Stay: The 50th Anniversary”
Episode 9
(READ EPISODES 1-3 HERE, READ EPISODE 4 HERE, READ EPISODE 5 HERE, READ EPISODE 6 HERE, READ EPISODE 7 HERE, READ EPISODE 8 HERE
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THOSE WHO STAY – Early Season 1969 – Ep. 9
Don Canham, decent suit and a light, tan overcoat, watched the Tuesday practice from the sideline. There was a spring in everybody’s step after the win over Vanderbilt. All phases of the team – offense, defense and special teams – had played fairly well, especially considering it was the season opener and Bo’s first game at Michigan. Canham wasn’t at all satisfied with the attendance of 70,000+ but it was close to 10,000 more than last year’s per game average. Something to build on, he thought.
“Taylor!! You soft sonofab—, you bounce like a goddamn cork!! Stay inside – right off of Dierdorf’s big butt, you hear me?! Washington is no Vanderbilt. You bounce outside like that and they’ll eat you alive! Run it again!!”
Bo also had some spring in his step. He had to keep the team on track. No one resting on the laurels of a single win. His staff was right there with him – pushing the guys the way they had for the last nine months.
Decades later, Dierdorf would say, “Hanlon thought a facemask was a handle to be used to bring you down to his level so he could make a coaching point.”
And that’s just what Coach Hanlon was doing right now. “You hear that, Dierdorf? Those halfbacks are going to keep it right off your outside cheek!! Fire off the darn ball and get some movement on the guy across from you!”
Hanlon released Dierdorf’s facemask, shooed him over to the huddle and that’s when he saw Lynn Koch hurrying toward him, moving fairly fast across the hard turf in her dress and low heels.
“Millie went into labor, “ she said. “Jane Pilcher took her to the hospital and has the boys.”
Hanlon nods and heads over to Bo who is about to give a play to QB Moorhead.
“Bo, come here.”
Bo turns to Hanlon, “What is it?”
“Come here, I need to talk to you.”
“Goddammit, I’m right here, what is it?”
Hanlon didn’t want to announce such a private thing so publicly but Bo was giving him no choice.
“Millie’s at the hospital. She went into labor.”
Bo takes that in, nods, “Okay. Great!” He turns back to the huddle and Moorhead, “I Right, Strong Right, 24 Power.”
“Bo!” Hanlon yells.
Bo turns back, “What?”
Moorhead and the guys aren’t moving, all eyes on Hanlon.
“She’s in labor.”
“I heard you. That takes awhile, doesn’t it? I’ll go right after practice.”
Lynn jumps in, “This is her fourth child, Bo, it may not take that long.”
Hanlon marches over to Bo gets behind him, grabs his shoulders and starts marching him off the field.
“What the hell are you doing?!”
“You’re going to the hospital right now!”
“Goddamit, Jerry – “
“Don’t you goshdarnit me, Bo – you’re going, right now, period, end of story!!”
“We got it, Coach!” Mandich yells. “Go on, Bo!” says another.
Bo relents and starts to jog so Hanlon doesn’t have to push him. They get to the gate.
“I’m going!“ Bo says. “Now get back there and make sure the off-tackle play doesn’t bounce!”
INT. HOSPITAL ROOM – TWO HOURS LATER
“Jane says you got here just in time.” Millie rests in a hospital bed.
“An hour to spare. Just enough time to light a cigar.”
She smiles…closes her eyes. Bo watches her rest. He looks out the 3rd story window. Michigan Stadium is visible a few miles away. He looks back to his wife.
“You know what I’m seeing?”
“You’re looking out the window at the stadium,” she says, eyes still closed.
“I’m looking at a pretty tough gal, “ he says.
She opens her eyes. He grins at her, “One more and we’d have an offensive line.”
Millie just shakes her head and closes her eyes again, “Go hold him.”
“They won’t let me yet. Kid was just born and he’s already sleeping.”
“He needs rest. So do I.”
And she’s out. Bo watches her sleep. And can’t help but sneaking a peek out the window at the stadium. Finally, he gets up, pats Millie’s hand and heads out.
INT. HOSPITAL – CONTINUOUS
Bo peers through the glass at a dozen or so newborns in basinets, searching for his son.
“Boy or girl?”
Bo turns and there is his fullback, Garvie Craw.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
Garvie smiles, “My wife went into labor this morning.”
“She better have – you missed practice! Congratulations, Craw.” Bo says as he claps him on back, “It’s for real now, isn’t it?”
“Yessir,” Garvie replies with grin.
A Nurse wheels a basinet over to the window where Garvie can get a good look. A pink cardboard sign on it reads: Stephanie.
“She’s beautiful, Craw.”
“Thanks, I agree. Where’s yours?”
Bo searches the basinets, finds what he’s looking for and waves at the nurse, who matter-of-factly wheels the basinet over and places it next to Stephanie.
A blue sign reads: Glenn.
“It’s a family name,” Bo says, unable to take his eyes off of his son.
“Your name is Glenn?” Garvie asks.
“And my father’s name,” Bo replies. “He was a great man, my father. A firefighter. More integrity in his pinky finger than most men have in their entire being. A great father.”
Garvie nods. Watching Bo watch Glenn the III…studying him…Bo’s eyes getting ever-so-slightly watery around the edges. Craw now understands his demanding, relentless coach a little bit better.
“This very well may be the most important thing we do in our lifetimes, Craw.”
“I think so,” Garvie replies.
A long moment as the coach and player, fathers, stare at their newborns.
Finally, Bo breaks the silence, “I don’t know if it’s any indication as to who he will be in this world…but my son has the biggest pair of gonads I have ever seen!”
Craw bursts out laughing.
“You keep your daughter away from my son, Craw!” Bo grins.
EXT. MICHIGAN STADIUM – SEPT. 27, 1969
CRASH!! Garvie Craw barrels his way into the endzone to make it 44-7 Michigan in the fourth quarter.
The extra point made a final score of 45-7, Michigan over Washington. Bo and Garvie shared a special high-five as they ran off the field, disappearing up the tunnel and into the locker room to sing The Victors for the second time in two weeks.
Up in the press box, President Robben Fleming shakes Don Canham’s hand, a tight smile lines his face. “Team looks good,” Fleming says.
“They do,” Canham replies, knowing full well that neither man needs to acknowledge the fact that there were only 49,684 fans in the house.
Fleming nods again. “I look forward to next week – Missouri?”
“That’s right,” Canham says, “They’re a good team. We’ll be ready for ‘em.”
“I hope so,” says Fleming as he’s pulled away to meet some alumni.
INT. YOST FIELDHOUSE – FULL STAFF MEETING ROOM – NIGHT
Gary Moeller and Dick Hunter plop down a half dozen bags of cheeseburgers, fries and shakes. Bo had declared there would be no post-game film-watching party at the house this week. Millie and the baby – they were calling him Shemy – needed to rest.
ABC Sports news played on a TV in the corner. They were interviewing Fred A. Taylor, the head coach of TCU, who’d just gotten beat 62-0 by Woody and Ohio State.
“It seemed like the field was just awash of scarlet and gray. They were everywhere,” Taylor said. “They are the finest college team ever assembled.”
“Turn it off,” Bo says evenly. “Put on the game film.”
“It’s not here yet. The guy said it wouldn’t be ready ‘til eight o’clock because the game started an hour later than Vandy,” Hanlon says.
“I meant the Ohio State game. From last year. I wanna watch the ‘finest college team ever assembled.’” Bo says. He takes a huge bite of his cheeseburger and settles into his chair as Hanlon racks the well-worn film reel. They all know, victory or not, it’s now going to be a long night.
EXT. YOST FIELDHOUSE – NIGHT – FIVE HOURS LATER
Jim Mandich and the gang, all a bit buzzed after celebrating their victory, walk up State Street, heading home.
Mandich pulls up.
“What the hell,” Caldo says, running into the back of him.
They follow Mandich’s eyes through the fence to Yost Fieldhouse. The flickering light of rolling game film comes from the window of the staff meeting room.
“It’s almost one o’clock it the morning. Doesn’t he ever sleep?” asks Caldo.
“Not if he can help it,” replies Baumgartner, memories of The Mile Test all too clear.
“Well, if he’s working, we’re working,” says Mandich.
And before anyone can respond, he lets out a blood-curdling warrior cry and charges up State Street in a full sprint.
“Aw, sonofab—,” Baumgartner says.
“Mad Dog!” Caldo yells. But Mandich is already half a block away.
They have no choice but take off after their friend and captain, knowing not one of them will catch him. The time to celebrate beating Washington is over.
Next up, the No. 9 ranked Missouri Tigers. Their third game in a row at Michigan Stadium.
TWO THUMPS
Two thumps is not good. One thump – the punter kicking the ball – that’s good. But a second thump? That means the opposing team just blocked the punt.
Two thumps is bad, especially on a Bo Schembechler coached team. Bo hated turnovers more than salad and a blocked punt was the type of turnover that set him off twice as much as fumble or an interception.
But two thumps is exactly what was heard when Missouri blocked a Michigan punt. In fact, those two thumps summed up the game as a whole as the Tigers delivered a sound 40-17 butt-kicking of Michigan on their home field.
The blocked punt was just one of five turnovers, including fumbles by the talented sophomore halfback, Billy Taylor, and the generally reliable junior QB Don Moorhead.
“You’re soft, Taylor!” Bo screamed in the team meeting on Sunday evening. “And Moorhead, you’re the goddamn quarterback! If you can’t hold onto the goddamned football you will not play another down for the University of Michigan!!”
Now it was Tuesday. Bo had barely slept a wink. The complete collapse of discipline was unconscionable to him. They had tenth-ranked Purdue coming to town on Saturday and, more important than ranking, it was a Big Ten game. He and the staff had to get the team back on track.
“Gentlemen, Ohio State will not lose a game before they play us. Our goal is to win the Big Ten Championship and sing The Victors in Pasadena. That starts this Saturday with the Boilermakers. They are a tough bunch of sonsab—es and if we are to win this game we must protect the football! We cannot turn the ball over and that includes the goddamn punt team!!”
This was still ringing in sophomore offensive tackle Jim Brandstatter’s ears when, an hour later during practice, as he was charging down the field after getting his block and releasing into punt coverage, he heard two thumps.
“Oh s—,” Brandstatter thought. “Some poor sonuvagun is gonna get his (expletive) handed to him when we get back to the huddle. Bo may kill the guy.”
Then he heard the screaming. The unmistakable bellows of an enraged Bo.
“You sonofab—!! Goddamnit – you SONOFAB–! BRANDSTATTER!!”
“Did he just say my name?” a confused Brandstatter thought as he slowed down. “That’s impossible. I blocked my man, I know I blocked my man.”
As Brandstatter turned around to see what was going on, Bo was only twenty yards from him and sprinting straight at Brandy like he’d been shot out of cannon.
“You sonofab—!!”
“Coach, no, I got my man, I got my –”
Bo covered the last ten yards remarkably fast and – WHAM! – slammed into the 6’3” 250lb. lineman, grabbed the Hanlon Handle and nearly stuck his head through Brandstatter’s facemask.
“You are the worst tackle in the history of intercollegiate football! Get the hell off my field! You will never play a single down of football for Michigan! Not a single down!!!”
Brandstatter didn’t know what to do. Bo was already marching back to the punt team, screaming at them to get someone in his spot. He started to walk toward the tunnel. And then turned it into a jog. This was it, he thought. He’d go to the locker room, change into his street clothes and go back to his dorm room. He’d have to call his parents and tell them he’d lost his scholarship. He’d probably have to move back home and go to the same school his dad and brothers went to: Michigan State. He was 18 years old and it was over. He’d blown his chance. And he didn’t think it was fair.
He was halfway up the tunnel before Jerry Hanlon, his position coach, got to him, grabbed his arm and spun him around.
“Where the hell are you going?” Hanlon asked.
“Home,” Brandstatter said, tears in his eyes.
“No, you’re not – “
“He kicked me off the team, Coach.”
“He fires me every other week, Brandy. I go get a cup of coffee, walk around the block and then go back in the staff room and he’s asking me how we’re going to protect a weak side fire game. Come on. Get your butt back out there, it wasn’t your fault.”
“Does he know that?!” Jim says.
Brandstatter finished practice. In fact, he ended up as an All-Big Ten tackle including playing what Bo later called, ‘one of the best games I’ve ever seen a tackle play’…against none other than Michigan State. After Brandy was done playing, he and Bo became good friends and remained so until Bo’s death in 2006.
Two days after the Double Thump incident, the Thursday before the Purdue game, Bo came up to Brandstatter at training table, “I’ll bet you still think it wasn’t your fault?”
Brandstatter held his ground. “It wasn’t. I got my guy, I know it.”
“Well,” Bo grumbled, “Maybe. But you still took too big a split.”
Brandstatter chuckled to himself as Bo walked away. He knew he’d just gotten a very rare apology.
PURDUE POST-GAME
“Yes, that’s true,” Bo said, answering reporter Joe Fall’s question, “I go see every player in their hotel room the night before the game. But that’s not unusual for a head coach to do, Joe – I hope that’s not your headline.”
“But word is you do something that is a bit unusual – you wheel around a cart and deliver cookies and milk, is that right?” Falls asks.
“I believe in the power of cookies and milk, yes.” Bo replies with a straight face. “I also hand out apples, if there are any mothers listening.”
Chuckles throughout the room, including Bo. He and the team have a lot to be happy about. Behind Jim Mandich’s 10 catches for 156 yards and a touchdown and three interceptions by linebacker Marty Huff, they’d just beaten a very strong No. 10 Purdue team, 30-17.
“Billy Taylor only played one snap today, why?”
“Aw, come on, Jimmy, you know why,” Bo said, his jaw tightening, “He fumbled the football on that one snap, that’s why.”
“How’s Tom Curtis doing?”
“Curtis took a good shot to the helmet there and our trainer, Lindsay McLean, and Dr. O’Connor thought it best to get him over to the hospital to get checked out. Of course, as they were wheeling him off the field, he was calling to Mandich, “Mad Dog, did we win? Did we win??” That tells you what kind of competitor Tom Curtis is. Mandich didn’t have the heart to tell him it was only the second quarter. I think he’s going to be okay. I’m going over to see him as soon as we’re done here.”
“Bo, you have to be feeling good after beating this team.”
“Our kids and the staff worked hard this week. We cleaned up some of the sloppiness and turnovers from the Mizzou game. Yes, it feels good and we have to win Big Ten games if we want to be Big Ten champions. – even you can do that math, Don.”
More chuckles.
“You have Michigan State coming up.”
“That’s right.”
“Ohio State just beat them today, 54-14. Do you feel any pressure to lay it on thick like that? To measure up to your mentor Woody?”
“We’re not playing Ohio State this week. We’re playing Michigan State.”
“I know but – “
“We’ll worry about Ohio State when it’s time to worry about them, which is the last game of the season. Right now, the team, myself and the staff are going to enjoy this win for about sixteen more hours and, then, tomorrow at 7AM we’ll start watching film on Michigan State, who, as you said, we play this week. That’s all I’m thinking about right now and that’s all I want the team thinking about, period.”
Joe Falls again, “Michigan State is your first away game.”
“That’s right,” Bo says.
“Will you be delivering milk and cookies at away games?”
“I will. And apples. But only to my football players, Falls, so don’t even think about it.”
And with that Bo nods goodnight and heads to the hospital to check on senior safety Tom Curtis. A dozen of his teammates are already there, something Bo liked to see. Garvie Craw holds his baby.
Bo pats Curtis on the leg, “Did Mad Dog tell you we won?”
INT. SCHEMBECHLER HOME – AN HOUR LATER
Bo, Jim Young, Gary Moeller, Jerry Hanlon, Dick Hunter, Chuck Stobart, Larry Smith, George Mans and Frank Maloney – the entire staff – all grab a beer or two and a bowl of Millie’s chili and head down to the basement, feeling pretty good.
Ten months ago they were at Miami of Ohio. Half of them had been high school coaches a few years ago. Not a single one of them, including Bo, could’ve imagined they’d be coaching at Michigan, celebrating a victory over an excellent Purdue team and knocking on the door of a Top 10 national ranking.
The beer tastes good and the chili goes down easy as they watch the game film. Bo is relaxed. Happy. The Missouri game may have been a blessing in disguise. A non-conference wake-up call that didn’t cost them a chance at the championship that he had promised those who stayed.
Bo could feel it – this team was coming together.
Next up, their first away game…
…Michigan State.
***
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