We wrote about Lou Little yesterday. Today's may make more sense if you read it. If you didn't get yesterday's email, respond to this one and I'll send it to you.

Stories about Coach Lou Little are stuff of legend and apparently Little did nothing to discourage these legends from growing.

For some context, Lou Little was a college football coach but also a Manhattan celebrity. The future College Football Hall of Famer coached Columbia from 1930 to 1956 during the final stage of the Lions football heyday and relevance on the national scene.

The Lions won the 1934 Rose Bowl, which was the last time any current Ivy League school has even played in the postseason—bowl games or playoffs.

Yankees slugger Lou Gehrig famously starred on the gridiron for the Lions just before Little's time. Little coached the great Sid Luckman and many others, including precocious halfback Jack Kerouac, during his time at Columbia.

Along with being featured, as "Lu Libble" in a Kerouac novel, Little haunted the Manhattan nightlife and was a popular speaker across the city. A star.

But from 1924 to 1929 Little was in the nation's capital coaching Georgetown—now traditionally considered a "basketball school"—when it was a regional, if not national, football power.

This story is about Little's time at Georgetown.

While he was at Georgetown, Little coached a particular young man who had been a good, but not great high school player, but a legitimate athlete nonetheless. He got into Georgetown because his grades were great and he was Catholic. Little had been courting the Catholic talent from everywhere, particularly the Midwest—Chicago and Detroit, specifically—to keep up with the Eastern football powers of the day.

This boy made the football team, mainly because Coach Little didn't like to cut players. He began his freshman year as the 14th-string halfback, yet he went to practice every day—and, in fact, never missed a practice in 4 years… until the last week of his career, that is, but we'll get to that in due time.

This kid worked hard. He was persistent. He had a great attitude. He was a great teammate.

Yet he never got to play in a game as a freshman. See, at the college level, he wasn't big enough, fast enough, strong enough, or skilled enough. It's tough to get playing time with all that going against you.

Sophomore year came and went. He had gone to practice every day. Arrived early, stayed late. Again, he never got into a game.

Same thing junior year. No playing time.

At the end of the year awards banquet, Coach Little went up to his halfback, now about 9th on the depth chart, and said, "Don't think I haven't noticed all the things you do for this team. You're like the emotional glue that holds this team together."

"Thanks Coach."

"If you come out for this team again next fall," Little said. "I promise that you're going to get into a game your senior season."

Well, that's all this fellow had to hear. He started training for fall camp the next day.

Senior season came and the Hoyas played their first 8 games. The boy never got in.

The last game of the season was on the road, playing the University of Detroit. Well, this current 6th-stringer senior was from Detroit and his parents were going to be at this game, the final one of his collegiate career, even though he'd still yet to see the field.

"It's a dream come true," thought the boy. "Coach said I can play my senior year. I'll get in for this one. He's the kind of man to keep his promises. What an honor to play in front of my family and home town. Can't wait…"

After practice on Monday, a few days before the Hoyas were to board the train to Detroit, Coach Little received a telegram. Little then summoned a Jesuit priest to meet the boy at the residence hall.

"Son, I hate to tell you this," said Fr. Sullivan, "but your father had a heart attack. He's in critical condition, and you have to hop on that train tonight and get back to your family in Detroit."

The boy packed up his suitcase and went back to the Motor City on the train. When his mom picked him up at the depot, he looked at her. He knew his dad had already passed away. The entire family was devastated.

The Georgetown team arrived from Washington on Thursday night. Coach Little and his coaching staff paid a visit to the boy's home Friday morning. Before they left to get back to the team hotel, Coach said, "Son, is there anything in the world I could do for you?"

"Well, Coach, I won't be able to be at the game tomorrow," the boy said. "But do you think you and the fellas could say a prayer for my dad before the game?"

Coach Little promised they would. The boy stayed with his family that night.

The next morning, three hours before kickoff, Coach Little was in the coaches office in the visitor's locker room and hears a knock. The boy appears in front of him in full uniform, leather helmet and all.

"Son, what in the world are you doing here?"

"Coach, I just wanted to make sure you said that prayer for my dad."

"Not yet. The team hasn't gotten here yet, but, yes, that's our first order of business. We even said a Rosary for him yesterday after practice. Son, is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Coach, you have to start me. You promised I'd get into a game. But I want to start today."

"Son, you've never been a starter. Never played, even. This is the biggest game of the season. It's Detroit! We can't take that type of risk today—you, me, or the team."

"Just one play, coach. Put me in to start the game and pull me out if I'm no good. I have to do this for my father."

Little was overcome with sympathy. How could he not start this kid? So the coach relented and put him in on the kickoff coverage to start the game.

This boy flew down the field and creamed the kickoff return man who fumbled. Georgetown recovered at Detroit's own 12-yard line.

"Well, what the heck," Coach Little said to his head assistant. "Send him in. Left halfback."

On the first play from scrimmage, Georgetown ran a toss sweep to the right side with … the left halfback who … reached paydirt, untouched.

"Stay in," Coach Little told the boy. The next series, this kid was a man on fire. He barreled through the middle for a 6-yard gain, a 14-yard off-tackle jaunt, an 8-yard reception out of the backfield. Couldn't be stopped.

By the end of the afternoon, this boy racked up 24 carries for 217 yards and 4 touchdowns!

When the game ended, it was a triumph. His teammates hoisted him on their shoulders and carried him off the field. When he got back to the locker room, all the sportswriters hovered around his locker.

What a story!

But first, the boy went into Coach Little's office, simply to thank him for the opportunity. Coach Little was sitting at his desk, weeping. He had his face in his hands. Tears streamed down his cheeks like a river.

"What's wrong with you Coach? We won! We won!"

"Son, that's not the point! The point is that I've had you on this team for 4 years and I never realized you could play like this! You've got to tell me what got into you today?"

"Coach, it's not you. It's me."

"Well, what is it? What got into you?"

"Coach, did you ever meet my dad?"

"No, son, I'm afraid I never did. I'm sorry about that."

"Well, you see Coach, the reason you never met my dad and the reason I played so well today are really the same reason?"

"What's that, son?"

"You see, Coach… my dad was blind … and today was the first day he could ever see me play."

What's your reason why?

As always,

Brian

P.S. — If you're having a hard time figuring out your "why" and you're still serious about it, we can help.