Irwin on the ball, as usual
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Many grid fans generally experience agony and frustration after a
game is well under way or at the end, but one night in 1956, Orange
Coast College found invading Fullerton sparking an uproar from the
beginning.
The Hornets’ coach, Bud Dawson, came prepared, or so it seemed, to
turn the odds Fullerton’s way soonest. His sizzling case became a
roar over the color of the game ball.
The new OCC coach, Al Irwin, who has long been a man of great
patience and sportsmanship, balked over Dawson’s fussing and
politicking with the game officials.
Dawson first stammered for a yellow ball, then a white ball, then
a gold ball. Any observer could tell that those would fit nicely with
the Fullerton uniform colors relative to deception. They had yellow
pants and white jerseys.
Irwin clearly spelled this out for the officials, who came to
agree with ease. They left it to Irwin to produce the proper ball and
he did -- it was a brown ball with two white stripes.
Dawson was left fuming.
The OCC fans were fuming as well. And, as the game progressed, the
local rooters chose to chant at low points for Fullerton: “Yellow
ball, yellow ball, yellow ball ...”
Dawson was correct about one thing. The championship-bound Pirates
would bowl him over. In fact, about 35-7.
The late Capt. Ray Thorpe was a wonderful old fellow and he worked
for two lovable people: the late Phil and Betty Tozier, who owned
Davey’s Locker. They provided sport fishing runs for untold anglers.
Thorpe’s job was to draw any fair and legitimate publicity he
could for the firm and anglers. We didn’t mind. We’d run abbreviated
stories on the big catches. It always warmed Thorpe and he often
promised he’d show up one day with a big surprise.
And that he did. In fact, just before the old Globe-Herald (and
Pilot) closing time at 5 p.m.
Thorpe eased through the side door with a grand smile and asked us
to step outside. On the sidewalk near the door, he had stacked an
enormous pile of fresh fish that obviously flowed out of his trunk.
And before we could catch our breath, Thorpe was behind the wheel
waving a fond adios.
The next mercurial task was to make like a sprinter and speed from
the newsroom to advertising and from the pressroom to the
administration building with exuberant insistence that no one forget
their fresh fish before leaving the premises. Fortunately, there were
many takers, which brought signs of relief by 5:07 p.m.
*
An amusement returns from the days of the late coach Dick
Spaulding at Harbor High in 1938. Spaulding was relating a yarn about
a powerful student and tackle named Don McClintock. He said it came
to him from a tourist passing by a field in Costa Mesa, where this
student was plowing behind a horse.
Spaulding said, “the tourist stopped and asked McClintock, the big
‘38 tackle, for directions to Newport.
“That way,” Spaulding said McClintock replied, demonstrating how
the tackle held both arms out straight, pointing toward Newport with
a plow.
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