Start of a Tradition

High above the Hudson, Army practiced behind canvas-draped fences, and cadets bellowed fight songs that echoed through West Point's stern, grey buildings. At the Air Force Academy 2,000 miles away in Colorado Springs, the cadets whipped themselves up to such a pitch that they swarmed onto the practice field to shout encouragement at their startled team. For the first time, the new U.S. Air Force Academy was playing the U.S. Military Academy, and right from the start both schools were determined to make the series as memorable as Army-Navy.

The game lived up to its billing. Shrugging off the rain that swept Yankee Stadium, the Air Force recovered an Army fumble, slammed up the middle for a first-period touchdown on a play that crackled with the power of the old flying wedge. But Army slashed back with its customary crisp blocking as All-America Halfback Bob Anderson scored two quick touchdowns, threatened to turn the game into a rout as the half ended.

Then, a long-faced, slight (5 ft. 11 in., 170 lbs.) Air Force second classman from Eureka, Calif, named Richie Mayo took command. Earlier, Quarterback Mayo had been knocked limp by Army linemen, as he desperately retrieved a high center pass and tried to kick on the run. But Mayo got up off the ground, and in the second half, he pulled up the Air Force with him. A daring fourth-down pass put the Air Force on the Army 15. Two plays later, he so artfully faked a hand-off up the middle that the converging Army defense never saw Halfback Mike Quinlan circling left end until it was too late.

With a bare two minutes left, Mayo pulled off the flashiest play of the game: apparently kneeling to hold a field-goal try on fourth down, he carefully kept his knee off the ground, rose to fire a 21-yd. strike to Quinlan to put the Air Force on the Army 21. But when a real field-goal try failed, Mayo and the Air Force had to settle for a 13-13 tie.

"We worked hard as hell and didn't get much for it," sighed Coach Ben Martin, an old Army foe from his days as a Navy letterman (class of '45). But his underdog team had made an auspicious beginning for the threeway, interservice rivalry that could become the most engrossing in college football.

The third service team did not fare so well. Maintaining its streak of bad luck, Navy (2-3-1) was leading Notre Dame (2-3) until a fourth-quarter touchdown tied the score at 22-22. Then, with 32 seconds to go, Notre Dame's massive (6 ft., 225 lbs.) End Monty Stickles tried a field goal from the Navy 33, buried his head in a teammate's chest until he heard the roar of the hometown South Bend crowd that announced he had booted his team to a 25-22 victory in one of the year's memorable battles.

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