From "Out of
When the injured Art Perry (Guard 1949-50) found his left leg encased in
a hip to toe cast, he looked forward to a few days without football
practice. No such luck.
"Leahy saw me limping across campus," recalls Perry. "He
asked me how I was. I said I felt okay."
"That's good, Arthur," cooed the coach. "Because as
scholarship athlete, you have certain responsibilities to fulfill. I shall
expect you at practice this afternoon."
Perry went to practice. "I thought," he says, "just to watch."
Leahy had other ideas. He inquired about the leg again. "Some slight
exercise might be just the tonic to improve your condition, Arthur," he
Perry's mother, meanwhile, was worried and upset. Having just heard of her
son's injury, she had motored to Notre Dame that very day. But Art was
nowhere to be found. His room, the infirmary, the hospital - where could he
be? In desperation, she hurried to football practice. She passed through the
gate of Cartier field and froze. There was her injured boy, in a hip cast,
"My parents were kind of surprised," admits Perry. "They
still talk about it."
* * * * * *
"You can do more recruiting by drying dishes in the kitchen with a
boy's mother than you can with all the promises in the world." Leahy
proved his own quaint theory by getting Ralph Guglielmi enrolled at Notre
Dame after a brief chat with Ralph's grandmother.
After the coach drove away from the Guglielmi home in Grandview, Ohio,
Ralph's grandmother spoke in Italian - she could speak nothing else.
"That's a nice man," she told her grandson, a highly touted high
school quarterback. "You should go to college where he teaches."
"Grandmother," Ralph was confused. "How can you say that? I
saw you talking to Coach Leahy, but he can't speak Italian and you speak no
English. How can you tell he's a nice man?"
Grandmother Guglielmi tapped her temple. "He speaks with his eyes,"
* * * * *
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