i wish to confirm that Marty Linville’s grandmother was indeed a full-blooded Cherokee. Her name was Marquita. After Marty stories, i wish i had met her. This is the second of my stories about my buddy and fellow curmudgeon.

This is one of my favorite stories about Marty. It is a story that could never happen today.

Marty went to Pittsburg State, now a university, to play football. He had been an extremely good quarterback in high school. His coach was an old school football coach named Carnie Smith. Carnie deserved to be called old school. He became the head coach in 1946, two years after i was born. He coached Marty’s father, Big Don Linville.

Don appropriately had the nickname of “Big” as he was huge, about 6-4, 6-5, with hands that would make mine disappear when i shook his hand. He went to Pittsburg State after serving in the Navy during WWII on a submarine. i am still trying to figure out where he could sleep in those cramped quarters. After the war, Don played lineman for the Pittsburgh Steelers for a number of years before becoming a teacher because it paid better. He is a marvel of his own.

Before Marty matriculated, this other guy named Rod Stark went to Pittsburg State and played for Carnie Smith as a lineman (Rod is one of the finest golfers with whom i’ve ever played). Carnie, as i have alluded, was old school: three yards and a pile of dust was the game he coached. Marty was a superb quarterback and started his sophomore year (freshmen weren’t eligible until 1972). Carnie had two rules for his quarterbacks: 1) Do not throw a pass inside your 20 yard line, and 2) Do not throw a pass if you are inside your opponents’ 20 yard line.

In his first game as a starter, Marty threw an 80-plus yard touchdown pass. That was inside his own 20 yard line. Carnie took him out of the rest of that game and the next one. On the third game of the season, the Gorillas had driven down inside the opponents 10 yard line. Marty threw a pass for a touchdown. Coach Carnie sat Marty down for the rest of that game and the next one.

Three yards and a pile of dust. Don’t mess with Carnie.

More than twenty years later, Major Marty Linville reported to the Naval Amphibious School, Cornado. Where he met another Pittsburg State football player, Rod Stark, who, at the time, was the Director of Amphibious Training. They had never met previously. They became friends. Their families became close. Their children grew up together, and Marty and Rod played golf together for forty years. i was lucky to be a tag-a-long for thirty-nine of those years.

i didn’t play for Carnie Smith, but i did play for Stroud Gwynn at Castle Heights Military Academy: single wing. Three yards and a pile of dust.

i wrote a bit about Marty after he passed on July 5. He and i shared war and sea stories for 39 years. These tales were shared with a bunch of other folks most of whom were retired military. There were a few just Marty and i swapped with each other. We went on golf trips together, and we went to a load of Padre baseball games together when i shared season tickets with Jim Hileman. Rod Stark, whom Marty met at the Naval Amphibious School, Coronado before me — Rod was there when Marty reported aboard in 1984; i reported in May 1985. Rod also was a major listener and contributor to our tales. And many others, nearly all golfers, heard a bunch of those yarns as well.

It would be impossible for me to recount them all. However, i decided to honor him with some of the stories by and about him. This is the first of that series.

James Martin Linville was Kansas through and through. His father, Big Don, was a pro football lineman for the Pittsburgh Steelers in the 1940s, quitting to become a teacher because it paid more money. He taught Marty a lot about football and baseball (more about that later).

Marty spent a good deal with his grandmother, a full-blooded Cherokee in Oklahoma. i was always engrossed when Marty talked about life on the reservation.

Like most boys in those days of our youth, we worked in our summers, usually at manual labor jobs. My friends in Lebanon rode bush hog tractors to clean road sides. Marty and Rod rode tractors in Kansas. I laughed when the two of them talked about days in the hot summer Kansas sun ploying the fields, reaping the hay, and hoisting it into the haylofts. When i confessed i never drove a tractor, that i was assigned to be a grave digger by the City of Lebanon staff because i was too small to drive a tractor, Marty would chuckle his famous deep chuckle.

Two of Marty’s stories about high school sports always amused me. Marty was the catcher for the Kansas American Legion team that won the state tournament. i was the second team catcher for my Lebanon Legion team that went to the state tourney but did not win. The kicker is Marty was the catcher for Mike Torrez. Mike went on to be drafted by the Cardinals before winning 20 games for the Baltimore Orioles in their 1975 World Series championship.

Perhaps the best story from Marty’s high school athletics was in track. Marty made it to the finals of the Kansas state high school track meet in the mile.

Marty told me he finished second. Then he confessed he was lapped by the guy who won it. Jim Ryan was that guy. In case you don’t remember, Ryan was the first high school runner to run the mile in under four miles in 1964. i’d say finishing second was just fine.

♦︎ ♦︎ ♦︎

This past Thursday, i was watching the Padres in the middle innings. The Mets pitcher was beind in the count, 3-0, to the phenomenal hitter Luis Arraez. Arraeze watched a straight fastball split the middle of the plate to bring the count to 3-1.

i immediately thought of Marty. For a major league hitter to take a 3-0 pitch never made sense to me. This guy is one of the premier hitters in the majors, and he should hit that fat of a pitch anywhere he wanted to place it. Marty and i would have discussed that for hours…

i miss him.