The Rivalry Read Online Free PDF Page A

buses.
    Kelleher nudged Stevie. “So?”
    “Oh yeah,” Stevie said. “This is going to be fun.”
    They ate in the mess hall, which was huge and filled with a sea of gray uniforms. People kept stopping to say hello to Cantelupe and Noto, who were obviously still well known at their alma mater. Cadets kept walking by the table saying, “Good evening, sir,” to everyone in sight. The food wasn’t very good, but there was plenty of it, which worked for Stevie.
    While they ate, Kelleher asked Cantelupe and Noto to give Stevie some background on Army football.
    “It started in 1890, when a cadet named Dennis Michie got some guys together and challenged Navy to a game,” Noto said. “Football was a new sport back then, a lot different than today.…”
    “Anthony, can we fast-forward a little?” Kelleher said. “We really haven’t got time for one hundred and twenty years of history.”
    Cantelupe jumped in. “You know how Anthony is: ask him how Roger Goodell’s feeling and he’ll tell you the life history of the NFL.”
    “Funny,” Noto said, but he was smiling.
    “I think what Stevie should know is how Army football—actually football at Army, Navy, and Air Force—is different than at civilian schools.”
    “Civilian schools?” Stevie asked.
    Cantelupe nodded. “Basically any other college you can name. You’re from Philadelphia, right? Villanova, Temple, Penn, they’re all civilian schools.
    “Every single student at Army, Navy, and Air Force is on a full scholarship—paid for by the government,” he continued. “And in return, every one of them will go into the military for five years when they graduate.”
    “Five years?” Stevie said.
    “Uh-huh,” Cantelupe said. “That’s why you won’t see a lot of NFL prospects on these teams. Five years in the military after college will pretty much end your chances ofplaying in the pros. Roger Staubach was the major exception to that rule. He fought in Vietnam in the sixties before he played for the Cowboys. There have been a few others, but not many.”
    Noto picked up from there. “That doesn’t mean the academies don’t care about football or try to recruit players. They do. In fact, unlike the civilian schools, they don’t have scholarship limits. A civilian school can only have eighty-five players on football scholarships at any one time. The academies can recruit as many guys as they want—as long as they can get into school academically. Most years, about a hundred plebes will show up for the first day of football practice. Four years later, if there are twenty or twenty-five of them still playing, that’s a lot.
    “Recruiting’s tough, because you have to find a kid who can not only play football but also make it at the academy. If a student comes here and hates the military life or can’t cut it in class, he’ll be gone. So one of the keys to success for the academies is having a low attrition rate—the fewer players you lose, especially the first two years when they have plenty of opportunity to transfer, the better off you’ll be. This team has twenty-three seniors. Last year’s only had nine. It makes a big difference.”
    Stevie was digging into some ice cream as Cantelupe and Noto continued their lesson when he heard a voice from above saying, “May I have the attention of the corps?”
    Stevie looked up and saw a cadet standing on a platform in the middle of the room.
    Seeing his puzzled look, Noto said, “That’s called thepoop deck. It’s where announcements are made at the end of meals and where visitors are introduced.”
    Sure enough, the cadet welcomed Cantelupe and Noto back, to big cheers from the student body. Then the announcer went on. “As everyone knows, tomorrow’s game will be televised by ESPN.” More cheering broke out.
    “These guys will cheer for just about anything, won’t they?” Kelleher said, smiling.
    “They don’t get much chance most days,” Cantelupe said.
    “We’d like to