1954 Esks Grey Cup Waterboy remembers his role in the win
From today's Toronto Star - John McTavish looks back at how his prowess at ping-pong helped him end up at the Eskies bench that 27th of November 1954.
http://www.thestar.com/printArticle/279459
Classic ending to a boyhood fantasy
As a 12-year-old, John McTavish saw Cup history, pail in hand
November 24, 2007
John McTavish
Special to The Star
In 1954, the Edmonton Eskimos began their Grey Cup dynasty. I was their water boy. Here's how it happened.
I was 12 years old in 1954 and living in Toronto. My holidays that summer began with a visit to my grandmother, who lived in Kitchener.
My first night there, Gramma looked up from her newspaper and announced that the Edmonton Eskimos were in town. "Why don't you take your bike tomorrow and ride out to St. Jerome's College?" she said. "That's where the team is staying. Maybe you can meet the players and get some autographs."
It sounded like a plan. So the next morning I peddled my bike along King St., Kitchener's main drag, eventually reaching the far southern end of the city where St. Jerome's was then located.
I wandered around the campus for a while. Sure enough, there were guys walking around with the mammoth physiques of football players. I wandered into an activity room and found more guys playing the one game in the world I was specially gifted in – ping-pong.
Eventually most of the guys drifted off, leaving a friendly fellow who introduced himself as Rollie Miles. Rollie was keen to continue playing table tennis, and delighted to discover that, young as I was, I was a worthy opponent. In fact, I often sent him sprawling with a patented slam that sliced the rocketing ball to the outside.
I didn't realize I was playing with one of the greatest football players in CFL history. Rollie was just a friendly guy who laughed a lot and didn't mind getting beaten in ping-pong by a kid with a wicked slam.
Rollie explained that the Eskimos were in town to play an exhibition game against their farm team, the Kitchener-Waterloo Dutchmen. I asked if they might need a water boy for the occasion. He suggested I speak to the equipment manager, a stocky, red-haired man named, if memory serves, Ted Allard.
Mr. Allard agreed to take me on if I would run joe jobs for him during the week. I was delighted and happily ran my buns off for the man from that moment on.
It's hard to imagine this sort of thing happening today. But back in 1954, flying from Edmonton to Toronto seemed, I guess, like flying to Tibet or Timbuktu. In any event, the team hadn't brought a water boy along.
So there I was, on Saturday night, on the sidelines, pail in hand, a bona fide CFL water boy. The Eskimos trounced the Kitchener farm team.
After the game, Mr. Allard told me I could help again if they made it back for the Grey Cup. The championship game in those antiquated days was always played in Toronto's Varsity Stadium.
I thanked him and spent the fall keeping an eye on the Eskimos' fortunes. When they qualified for the semifinal I wrote Mr. Allard and reminded him of my desire to help.
The Eskimos won the semifinal, but the much-anticipated letter didn't come, didn't come ... and suddenly there it was: "Meet me at Varsity Stadium in front of Gate 12 at 10:30 Saturday morning."
That's how 12-year-old Johnny McTavish came to be standing beside the Eskimos' bench for the thrilling 1954 Grey Cup classic.
The game itself pitted Edmonton against Montreal. Nobody gave the Eskimos a ghost of a chance. After all, Montreal's roster that year boasted such legendary names as Sam (The Rifle) Etcheverry, Red O'Quinn, Herbie Trawick, Pat Abbruzzi, Hal Patterson and future NFL superstar Alex Webster.
The Eskimos, however, were a more formidable team than easterners realized. This was the last year before the interlocking schedule, and so no one east of Winnipeg had seen Edmonton's revolutionary new split-T offence.
Or laid eyes on Edmonton's emerging superstars, players like Jackie Parker, Bernie Faloney, Normie Kwong, Johnny Bright and Miles.
Still, Montreal was the stronger team that year. By halftime it was a miracle that Edmonton wasn't behind by more than an unconverted touchdown.
I remember taking my bucket and water mug to the players along the bench (this was long before the days of Gatorade), and occasionally running out on the field during timeouts. One timeout in particular remains especially vivid.
Miles, my old ping-pong partner, had received the ball on a reverse pattern and was attempting to pass. He kept zigzagging, getting deeper and deeper into trouble. Just when it looked like Rollie was going to be tackled for a horrendous loss, he released the ball – a completed pass!
I remember arriving at Rollie's side during the ensuing timeout, giving that all-important cup of water to my exhausted hero.
I also remember Pop Ivy's understated speech during halftime. The Edmonton coach complimented the team on sticking with their game plan and executing it so well. Pop then quietly encouraged the players to play the same way in the second half – and hope for a break.
The break came with less than three minutes to go. Montreal was still ahead by an unconverted touchdown, but had the ball on Edmonton's 22-yard line. They could run out the clock, kick a field goal, maybe even score another touchdown
It didn't look good for Edmonton. But then Montreal's quarterback, Etcheverry, threw a pitchout to Chuck Hunsinger, who looked like he was going to be hit for a sizeable loss.
No one quite knows what happened next. Did Hunsinger throw the ball away in disgust, thinking the ball was already dead? Did he attempt a pass, in which case the ball almost certainly would have been ruled dead? Or did a monster tackle on the part of big Rollin Prather cause a king-sized fumble?
Over 50 years later, people will still argue these questions. What is indisputable is that the ball squirted way out to the side and Jackie Parker scooped it up and was gone.
Etcheverry had a chance of cutting Parker off at the angle. But Ol' Spaghetti Legs, playing with a painful chipped foot bone, remembered reading in the newspaper that the Montreal quarterback wasn't particularly fast – and kept running.
Parker's 92-yard touchdown tied the game.
Eagle Keys, playing in the second half with a broken leg (honest), limped in to hike the ball for the convert. The new score – Edmonton 26, Montreal 25 – held despite a furious last-minute Alouette surge.
In the dressing room afterwards, I remember the howls of pain emanating from the showers – guys who had been playing hurt with a broken arm, broken leg, broken ribs.
Mr. Allard and I were among the last to leave the dressing room. After everything had been packed away, Ted gave me one of the team footballs. I still have the ball, and occasionally toss it around with my son.
And wonder how the guys are doing.
John McTavish, a retired United Church minister, lives in Huntsville. The 1954 Grey Cup was his last professional football appearance.
http://www.thestar.com/printArticle/279459
Classic ending to a boyhood fantasy
As a 12-year-old, John McTavish saw Cup history, pail in hand
November 24, 2007
John McTavish
Special to The Star
In 1954, the Edmonton Eskimos began their Grey Cup dynasty. I was their water boy. Here's how it happened.
I was 12 years old in 1954 and living in Toronto. My holidays that summer began with a visit to my grandmother, who lived in Kitchener.
My first night there, Gramma looked up from her newspaper and announced that the Edmonton Eskimos were in town. "Why don't you take your bike tomorrow and ride out to St. Jerome's College?" she said. "That's where the team is staying. Maybe you can meet the players and get some autographs."
It sounded like a plan. So the next morning I peddled my bike along King St., Kitchener's main drag, eventually reaching the far southern end of the city where St. Jerome's was then located.
I wandered around the campus for a while. Sure enough, there were guys walking around with the mammoth physiques of football players. I wandered into an activity room and found more guys playing the one game in the world I was specially gifted in – ping-pong.
Eventually most of the guys drifted off, leaving a friendly fellow who introduced himself as Rollie Miles. Rollie was keen to continue playing table tennis, and delighted to discover that, young as I was, I was a worthy opponent. In fact, I often sent him sprawling with a patented slam that sliced the rocketing ball to the outside.
I didn't realize I was playing with one of the greatest football players in CFL history. Rollie was just a friendly guy who laughed a lot and didn't mind getting beaten in ping-pong by a kid with a wicked slam.
Rollie explained that the Eskimos were in town to play an exhibition game against their farm team, the Kitchener-Waterloo Dutchmen. I asked if they might need a water boy for the occasion. He suggested I speak to the equipment manager, a stocky, red-haired man named, if memory serves, Ted Allard.
Mr. Allard agreed to take me on if I would run joe jobs for him during the week. I was delighted and happily ran my buns off for the man from that moment on.
It's hard to imagine this sort of thing happening today. But back in 1954, flying from Edmonton to Toronto seemed, I guess, like flying to Tibet or Timbuktu. In any event, the team hadn't brought a water boy along.
So there I was, on Saturday night, on the sidelines, pail in hand, a bona fide CFL water boy. The Eskimos trounced the Kitchener farm team.
After the game, Mr. Allard told me I could help again if they made it back for the Grey Cup. The championship game in those antiquated days was always played in Toronto's Varsity Stadium.
I thanked him and spent the fall keeping an eye on the Eskimos' fortunes. When they qualified for the semifinal I wrote Mr. Allard and reminded him of my desire to help.
The Eskimos won the semifinal, but the much-anticipated letter didn't come, didn't come ... and suddenly there it was: "Meet me at Varsity Stadium in front of Gate 12 at 10:30 Saturday morning."
That's how 12-year-old Johnny McTavish came to be standing beside the Eskimos' bench for the thrilling 1954 Grey Cup classic.
The game itself pitted Edmonton against Montreal. Nobody gave the Eskimos a ghost of a chance. After all, Montreal's roster that year boasted such legendary names as Sam (The Rifle) Etcheverry, Red O'Quinn, Herbie Trawick, Pat Abbruzzi, Hal Patterson and future NFL superstar Alex Webster.
The Eskimos, however, were a more formidable team than easterners realized. This was the last year before the interlocking schedule, and so no one east of Winnipeg had seen Edmonton's revolutionary new split-T offence.
Or laid eyes on Edmonton's emerging superstars, players like Jackie Parker, Bernie Faloney, Normie Kwong, Johnny Bright and Miles.
Still, Montreal was the stronger team that year. By halftime it was a miracle that Edmonton wasn't behind by more than an unconverted touchdown.
I remember taking my bucket and water mug to the players along the bench (this was long before the days of Gatorade), and occasionally running out on the field during timeouts. One timeout in particular remains especially vivid.
Miles, my old ping-pong partner, had received the ball on a reverse pattern and was attempting to pass. He kept zigzagging, getting deeper and deeper into trouble. Just when it looked like Rollie was going to be tackled for a horrendous loss, he released the ball – a completed pass!
I remember arriving at Rollie's side during the ensuing timeout, giving that all-important cup of water to my exhausted hero.
I also remember Pop Ivy's understated speech during halftime. The Edmonton coach complimented the team on sticking with their game plan and executing it so well. Pop then quietly encouraged the players to play the same way in the second half – and hope for a break.
The break came with less than three minutes to go. Montreal was still ahead by an unconverted touchdown, but had the ball on Edmonton's 22-yard line. They could run out the clock, kick a field goal, maybe even score another touchdown
It didn't look good for Edmonton. But then Montreal's quarterback, Etcheverry, threw a pitchout to Chuck Hunsinger, who looked like he was going to be hit for a sizeable loss.
No one quite knows what happened next. Did Hunsinger throw the ball away in disgust, thinking the ball was already dead? Did he attempt a pass, in which case the ball almost certainly would have been ruled dead? Or did a monster tackle on the part of big Rollin Prather cause a king-sized fumble?
Over 50 years later, people will still argue these questions. What is indisputable is that the ball squirted way out to the side and Jackie Parker scooped it up and was gone.
Etcheverry had a chance of cutting Parker off at the angle. But Ol' Spaghetti Legs, playing with a painful chipped foot bone, remembered reading in the newspaper that the Montreal quarterback wasn't particularly fast – and kept running.
Parker's 92-yard touchdown tied the game.
Eagle Keys, playing in the second half with a broken leg (honest), limped in to hike the ball for the convert. The new score – Edmonton 26, Montreal 25 – held despite a furious last-minute Alouette surge.
In the dressing room afterwards, I remember the howls of pain emanating from the showers – guys who had been playing hurt with a broken arm, broken leg, broken ribs.
Mr. Allard and I were among the last to leave the dressing room. After everything had been packed away, Ted gave me one of the team footballs. I still have the ball, and occasionally toss it around with my son.
And wonder how the guys are doing.
John McTavish, a retired United Church minister, lives in Huntsville. The 1954 Grey Cup was his last professional football appearance.
)
I'm fortunate that I didn't have as much bad ice as you - which is a bit of a surprise considering some of the free poured coke and rums I got at the bar. 
If the GC comes here for the 100th edition, they'll have to make sure that they get permission to set last call at 4.
Comment