Facing his first freshman football scrimmage without his pair of thick glasses, the burly Amherst guard could scarcely see. He didn't need to. Flailing arms, elbows and fists, he hurled himself at every vague shape that moved, and he made the tackle on almost every play. After 20 minutes of watching the myopic terror at work, the coach pulled him out of the scrimmage and gently reprimanded him: "It's only a game, boy."
To Stanley Woodward, football was never just a game. It was one of life's major pastimes, worthy of his undivided...
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