I Flunked Latin

I Flunked Latin

I played football in high school. I am not being conceited when I say that I was the best player on our team. And I had the most potential of any of our players to eventually become a professional, but I had to go to college first. I received full-ride scholarship offers from six different colleges universities; New Mexico, Arizona State, Texas El Paso, South Dakota, Monmouth College, and my choice, Yale. In the spring of 1970 while I was still a Junior, the head football coach had come out to visit me. He invited me to visit Yale in the fall.

I traveled to Yale in New Haven, Connecticut with my father during the fall of my Senior year and attended the Yale Homecoming Football Game against Harvard . To say that I loved Yale would be an understatement. The first thing I saw when I got there was how laid back and cool all the people were. I thought Ivy League schools were for the snooty rich, but these people were my kind of people; jeans, t-shirts, and sneakers! When we arrived at the motel there was a huge buffet and a gathering of all the alums. What a spread!

What really sold me was the half-time show at the game the next day. I don't even remember who won. Harvard's Marching Band was first up. They were flawless and precise in their red uniforms trimmed in white. They looked just like the band at the end of The Music Man and their music was perfect. The announcer even pointed out that their big bass drum was the largest in the world. It had to be ten feet tall with a huge red capital H on the skins on each side. They finished their set and marched off the field. As they did, I noticed a motley group of people carrying instruments gathering together in the end zone to my right. It was a cool day so all of them had jackets of many different types, all were wearing jeans and most were wearing sneakers.

The announcer said, "And now the Yale Precision Marching Band!" They all burst out running from the end zone in seeming disarray. They bumped into each other, some falling down as they reached midfield and formed an uneven Y. They played very well but after each song when they rearranged themselves, they did it by just running randomly to their new spots. During the last song, out came three guys dressed in what looked like Harvard Band costumes. One was a drum major marching with a high step and waving a big baton, twirling it every few steps. Behind him was another guy pulling a kids wagon with a big bass drum with a big red H on it. Following, the third guy had a big drum stick. It looked like a giant Q-tip. When they got to the middle of the band, in unison with the music, they smashed the drum to bits. The Yale fans jumped to their feet laughing, screaming, and cheering. It was wild! "Oh yeah! I'm gonna love this place!" I thought to myself.

I never had to study in high school to get a C, so I didn't. Most, if not all, of the material that would be on the test was covered by the teachers during class time and my memory was very good. Just by memory alone, without the aid of study, I could pass the tests. I thought that all I would need to get through school was to get C's, so that's what I got, except in Math and Biology which I loved and paid better attention. At the end of the first semester of my Senior year I had a 2.5 GPA.

Sometime in the first week of the last semester, I was called to the Athletic Director's office. When I got there my football coach handed me the phone telling me it was the Yale coach. I took the handset, put it to my ear and said, "Hello?" The words that followed shattered me. My grades were not good enough to get into Yale. My entrance test scores were great but I needed a 3.0 GPA. I said, "Thank you." And handed the phone back to my coach who hung it up. Without a word, I went back to class. At least I had been smart enough to apply to backup schools even though I had thought that Yale was a lock.

Spring semester of Senior year I only had to take half the normal credits because I had taken an extra class here and there in previous semesters. And I didn't have any required courses left, just electives. I thought it would be cool to take Latin because so many English words are based on it and for some reason I thought it would be cool. I was sure that, just like all the other classes, I could get by with a C. Well, to my surprise, when the final grades came out I got an F. I had gotten a C on the midterm and the final, so the F had to be a mistake!

I went to the teacher and pleaded my case. She explained to me that I had only turned in five of the ten required homework assignments and therefore I FAILED! GREAT! I can't go to Yale and I am not even going to graduate! This class was not offered in summer school! I would have to retake it in the fall which meant I was not going to college at all! I thought fast. "Please, I have to go to college in the fall." I told her the Yale story and begged for some way to resolve this. She agreed that if I made up the homework right then and there she would change my grade to a D. I sat in the library with the textbook for six hours and did the work. I got my D. I graduated.

Where did I go after I graduated? Tune in later for another installment...

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