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There he stood, looking like King Hal at Agincourt, a slim figure in gold staring at the enemy over the backs of his crouching linemen. "Haaaay, set! Hup-ah-hup-ah-hup-ah . . ." Back snapped the ball, and the crowd sucked in its breath. What would he do? Now he was rolling right and fading back as if to pass. He slithered away from one tackier, straight-armed another. Downfield, three receivers zigged, zagged, looked back, zigged again. Back and forth he dodged, now trapped, now loose. But there was no pass. In a spurt of swivel-hipped speed, he dashed forward. Five yards, ten, past the line of scrimmage, and on to a first down.
Another play: same thing. Only this time he suddenly stopped in his tracks, and threw—a perfect spiral, 17 yds. downfield. Touchdown!
A movie script? A sixth-grader's dream of glory? Not at all. Roger Thomas Staubach, 21, Naval Academy midshipman and college quarterback beyond compare, was playing football against Southern Methodist University in Dallas. And as 37,000 bedazzled fans in the Cotton Bowl screamed wildly—for him, against him, or just from the sheer excitement of it—Quarterback Staubach put on a show that even the most jaded pro-football fan would find breathtaking to behold.
Playing with Magic. In the first quarter, a vicious, blind-side tackle sent Staubach to the bench with a stretched nerve in his left shoulder. Five minutes later, as if nothing had happened, he was ramming through the center of the S.M.U. line for a touchdown. Southern Methodist's speedy backs scored twice before the half. But Staubach kept the Middies ahead—rolling out to his right to set up a touchdown, then rolling out to his left for the two-point conversion. By the half, 31 points were on the scoreboard: Navy 18, S.M.U. 13.
Back came the two teams, and the tension leaped another notch. A jarring tackle sent Staubach sprawling and aggravated his shoulder injury. He seemed oblivious to pain. Calmly, he pitched a TD strike to his left end. Score: Navy 25, S.M.U. 13. Now all Navy needed was a stout defense. But who was playing defensive football? In only two plays, Southern Methodist got that touchdown back on a 45-yd. run by John Roderick, a 168-lb. sprinter who runs the 100 in 9.4 sec. and plays football just to keep in shape for track. Minutes later the Mustangs got another and jumped into the lead, 26-25. Now it was Staubach's turn again. Circling right end, he picked up 11 yds. and ran head first into a herd of Mustangs. Slowly, the tacklers unpiled—and a gasp went up from the stands. There lay Staubach, stunned, on the ground.
The Navy trainer waved smelling salts under Staubach's nose, and the youngster was ready for more. He moved the Middies to the S.M.U. two. A field goal put Navy back ahead, 28-26. And with just 2 min. 52 sec. left in the game, bruised, battered, exhausted, he slumped onto the bench and waited for Navy's defense to run out the clock. Not a chance. In only four plays, S.M.U. traveled 70 yds. for a touchdown. Score: Southern Methodist 32, Navy 28.