You gotta love those "straight on" kickers from the bygone era. I wonder if any exist, anywhere, now days? In high school, 48 years ago, we had a kicker who somehow tied a shoe string from his front cleat to to the back of his foot. Not sure what that accomplished but it seemed to work decent enough. Maybe some of the old timers around here might know.
Stickles!
“What happened was this," he said. "We took a time-out. It was fourth down and we had about eight to go for the first. I was resting and Bronk Nagurski—I think it was Bronk—came into the game. He comes up to me and he says, 'Coach says kick a field goal.' He gave me the kicking tee, then he says, 'Coach says keep your head down.' I didn't feel nervous or anything, even after missing the third conversion—the one that would have tied the score. I was just overconfident on that one. Well, the ball comes back, and Williams sets it up nice and fast and I boot it. The angle was good and the ball just made the right side of the crossbar by about three or four feet. Thing that bothered me was I didn't think those goal posts were wide enough. No kidding, looked real narrow. Somebody goofed."
Stickles, a bull-like 6-foot 4-inch, 220 pounder, held his head back and pressed a handkerchief to his nose. He talked to the ceiling. "Caught an elbow. Won't stop bleeding."
Presently he lowered his gaze.
"It's a funny thing, me kicking that field goal. First place, I never kicked one before. Second place, it was that boot that beat Army and I almost went to West Point. Yep, Coach Blaik had me up there several times looking the place over. I wanted to go there, too. I grew up about 20 miles away and I always liked the Point. They wouldn't take me, though. I couldn't pass the physical. Bad eyes, they said. Well, I guess I could see pretty good today, huh?"
His father, Montfort Sr., stalked in. They shook hands. "When I saw you were going to try the field goal," he said, "I said to your mother, he's going to be a hero or a bum."