[legendsport]

Akron, OH: October 19, 1919:

Sunday afternoons... Joe Barrell truly did love Sunday afternoons. No blue laws to prevent playing games on Sunday, unlike the east coast states which banned football on Sundays and forced the teams to play on Saturday. Joe had played on Saturdays of course - that's when the college teams played. And though he missed the comraderie of his collegiate days, he did not miss having to go to class.

His Akron Triangles club had been given a new moniker: the Chiefs. They started the season red-hot, winning their first game on October 5th by a score of 47-0 over a club from Toledo. Joe had scored three times in that game. The next week the Chiefs hosted a club from Columbus, the state capital of Ohio. They put up a good fight, ultmately losing by a 13-0 score with Joe again scoring, though only once. Now they were hosting a team from Pitcairn. Joe wasn't exactly sure where that was (he had heard it was somewhere in Pennsylvania), but he looked forward to what he and his team mates considered their final "tune-up" game before back-to-back games with Massillon and Canton, two of the top teams in the area.

Edna had found a sitter for the kids and was among the somewhat small, but vocal crowd on hand at Akron's Redstone Field. The Chiefs had yet to play a road game, and of the ten contests they'd scheduled, seven of them were at home. They'd likely do some barnstorming too - it was a good way to supplement their incomes and while many, including Joe, had full-time positions with Mid-Ohio Rubber, more money was still better than less money.

The air had cooled, as fall settled over Ohio. Joe, though born in Brooklyn, had spent too much time in the south and was still adjusting to the fall - and especially winter - weather here in Ohio. Edna, a Southern girl herself, was wearing a coat and scarf, and her hand when she waved it at Joe, was wearing a knitted glove.

Joe played in the backfield on offense, mixing it up depending on the play - sometimes at halfback, sometimes at full back and sometimes at quarterback. At six feet and a solid 200 pounds of muscle, he was one of the larger players on his team. Even the linemen weren't much larger than Joe. His raw athleticism made him a very effective runner, and his strength made him difficult to tackle. With just over one season of pro football under his belt, he was already acknowledged as one of the better players in Ohio.

"Joe! You hear about the trade?" shouted Park Donaldson, a talented guard who often opened up holes for Joe.

Joe frowned and replied, "What? Who got traded?"

"Max Morris. Cleveland traded him to St. Louis," Park replied, pronouncing the city as "Saint Louie."

"Baseball? Who cares?" Joe replied. He was fully in game mode and wanted only to think about football.

Park grinned. "Well... with your dad, I figured you followed the sport."

Joe shrugged and said, "Not really. I've got a herd of brothers back home who are probably chattering all about it though."

Park said, "Fair enough." Then he scowled and shouted, "You ready!?!"

Joe grinned back and growled, "Of course!"

Across the way, the Pitcairn players viewed the Akron club with, in Joe's eyes, some serious concern. "They look like rabbits staring at a pack of wolves," Joe told Park.

The referee called the captains to midfield, for the coin toss. Joe and Park were captains and after a brief introduction, a couple of handshakes and a winning coin toss, they prepared to take the opening kickoff.

For Joe, playing football was a way to get all his frustrations out of his system. When he had been boxing, Cooter Daniels had taught him to imagine that the opponent was a true enemy - someone who had slighted him, or hurt someone he cared about. After Cooter had discovered Joe and Edna's relationship, he had Joe imagining the opponent as someone trying to steal his girl. Joe had used that to generate real hostility towards his opponent on several occasions. He knew this was important - Joe was, in general, a pleasant person and though he was more than comfortable with violence, pushing him to the point of employing it had become more difficult as he matured.

Cooter's methods, perhaps unsurprisingly, translated well to the football field. Looking over the line at the Pitcairn defenders on the first play of the game, Joe imagined them trying to get at his wife and children, and built some anger. He had to be careful with this though - football was a rough, physical sport, but it was not boxing. He couldn't outright slug an opponent. Sometimes in the pile things could get nasty. He'd been bitten and someone tried to poke him in the eye (he bit the guy's finger), but few actual punches had been thrown. The referee would throw you out if he caught you fighting. So Joe channeled his anger.

On the first play, Joe took the handoff, Park pulled and Joe followed him, then burst around him, stiff-armed a would-be tackler and broke into the secondary. Pitcairn had some speed, but Joe was both fast and strong. He lowered his shoulder as one of the defensive backs tried to get in his way. He bowled right over the guy, muttered "sorry bub" and broke into a full sprint that ended in the end zone for a touchdown.

There were several more big plays and Joe also handed out some punishment on the defensive side, where he played just behind the line and mauled would-be ball carriers with near impunity. In the end it was a blowout 48-0 victory for Akron.

Walking off the field, muddy, sore and tired, Joe spotted Edna in the stands and blew her a kiss.

After the game, as he and Edna walked towards the tram stop, a man ran across the road to intercept them. Joe, still keyed up, tensed and stepped in front of Edna protectively.

"Hey! You're Joe Barrell, right?" the guy asked breathlessly. That short run across the street had obviously winded him.

"I am," Joe replied.

"I'm Dick Green. I run a club back in New York. We could use a player of your, uh, skills."

"I'm already under contract, Mr. Green," Joe replied with a smile.

"Whatever they're paying you... we'll double it," Green said.

"Double?" Joe asked.

Edna stepped forward. "Isn't it against the rules to try to steal another team's player?" she asked.

Green scowled. "There's no league here, lady. We're all independent operators."

Joe growled, "Watch how you speak to my wife, bub."

Green raised his hands and said, "Sorry, Joe. I will admit that your wife isn't completely wrong. It is frowned upon, but as I said, there is no governing body. It's every team for itself - and every man for himself, you know?"

Joe frowned. "I don't know. I don't like going back on my word."

Green spread his arms out wide and said, "Just picture it, Joe. Stepping out onto the green grass of Bigsby Oval... 50,000 fans screaming your name in the greatest city in the world! Akron's got nothin' on New York, Joe!"

Joe grinned - he liked this guy's sense of the theatrical. "Bigsby Oval, huh?"

Green winked and said, "You bet. Sam Bigsby's one of the partners in the club."

Edna rolled her eyes and grabbed Joe's hand. "Come on, we'll miss the trolley."

Green pressed a card into Joe's hand. "Just think about it ok? I'll be at the Dew Drop Inn until after next week's game."

The Dew Drop Inn? Joe nearly laughed at the guy.

"OK, Mr. Green. I'll think about it," he said.

As they walked on, Edna asked, "You're not really going to consider this are you?"

Joe shrugged, "It's a lot of money. But my parents always taught us to live up to our promises. A contract is a promise made legal, is what my Pop would say. So..." he trailed off, a troubled look on his face. Double? That would sure help support Edna and the kids... And 50,000 New Yorkers chanting his name?...