When Cleve Clark, a Georgia football letterman 1953-55, died last week, his service became a reunion of the fifties-era players who labored under the practice-field intensity of Wallace Butts.

Throughout their post campus lives, these former players have often gathered to reminisce about their Spartan life under their beloved coach. Butts was a taskmaster and a perfectionist. He required a boot-camp regimen, which served him well in his heyday of the forties, but probably worked against him as mores and attitudes changed late in his career.

Butts, however, remained steadfast in his belief that those who practiced the hardest would be the most likely to succeed in the fourth quarter, when games are often won or lost. With abundant talent, he triumphed more often than not, but the risk, without deep talent, is that games can be lost on the practice field.

Those Wally’s boys of the fifties never considered it important to debate Butts’s coaching philosophy. They revered their coach, and they considered it a badge of honor to be a Wally alumnus. Today, whenever they congregate for any reason, even if it is a social gathering of three or four, the conversation usually turns to the days on the practice field and the colorful vernacular of their coach.

They forever reflect back to a practice session when the humdrum of the daily routine was spiced by a comment by the colorful Butts, whose verbiage made them stifle a mouthful of laughter. Nobody laughed until afterwards when they were certain they were out of earshot of their coach.

His style would be akin to a platoon leader wisecracking with mortar fire enveloping his battlefield unit. Coach Butts was a clever, funny man with caustic wit. His verbal ability to graphically define a practice-field shortcoming is legend among his former players.

The fifties were not the best of times for Butts whose teams, after winning three SEC titles and two national championships in the

forties, struggled throughout the next decade of his career until 1959 when his underdog team claimed a fourth SEC title.

Although there was not a frequency of high moments for those struggling teams, something took place that has served their roster members well. The bonding that came about is heartwarming. There was no dissention, contempt, or disharmony when they played—and nothing of the sort has hung over in their after years. There is a brotherly love that has strengthened their friendship with the passing of time.

None of them had greater affection for Coach Butts than Cleve

Clark, although when the 5-7 Butts dashed over to chastise the 6-5

Clark, they were the classic odd couple. Cleve admitted that, although he towered over his coach, he was deathly afraid of him. All of Wally’s boys felt the same way.

When he arrived on campus from Albany, Georgia, Cleve unpacked for life under the Little Round Man, as Butts was known, with the awareness that there were many in his hometown who told him he was not tough enough to survive his tutelage. He was determined to show them. He succeeded.

In every athlete’s career, there is a singular and unforgettable moment. Cleve’s came in the 1955 Georgia-Vanderbilt game between the hedges. Vandy got out front 13-0, but the Dogs came back to win 14-13. Cleve caught an eleven yard pass for Georgia’s first score and made a critical third-down catch in the drive to win the game.

When his heart gave out on him last week, and he moved on to that great Gridiron in the sky, in all probability he would have agreed that his greatest achievement was being one of Wally’s boys.