Washington Post Staff Writer
Monday, October 2, 1939; Page 18

Somebody, who is doubtless Ray Flaherty, has done a job on the Redskins. The militant, hard-hitting gang which held the champion New York Giants to a scoreless tie yesterday was unrecognizable as the same bungling, impotent club that, in its last affair with the same Giants, was overrun, 36 to 0.

To say that the Redskins held the Giants to a tie isn't putting it exactly correctly. The Giants were the club that was on the defensive yesterday and forced to dig in mightily to ward off Washington touchdowns. The Redskins had the bit in their teeth. As the game was played, the 2-to-1 odds on the Giants were absurd. The New York line that was supposed to be the best in professional football was shoved around and cuffed about; Ed Danowski, the league's best forward passer last season, either didn't dare or was never in a position to pass, and Tuffy Leemans was handled like just another football player by the Redskins.

The transformation of the Redskins was no less remarkable. They came out of the Pacific Northwest, hardened and vengeful. The Turk Edwards of yesterday was the Edwards of 1937 — big, bruising, alert. Big Jim Barber's flying block that removed two tacklers from the path of Frank Filchock's 40-yard punt return smacked of the Redskins of championship days.

Giants Couldn't Get Up a Gallop
Mud is the great leveler in football, but it was no stickier, no more treacherous for the Giants than for the Redskins yesterday. And the Giants couldn't get up a gallop after the first quarter. On a dry field it might have been a different story, but indications were yesterday that on a dry field the Redskins would have whaled the tar out of the league champions.

Ray Flaherty apparently has uncovered something very nice, also, in Jim Meade, Mrayland's Jarrin' Jim. Meade's first act was to slam a 61-yard punt nicely out of bounds deep in the Giants' territory in the first quarter. He barged through the line on another occasion to smear Leemans for a 9-yard loss, and shoed a love for carrying the ball on the few chances he had. Late in the fourth period, though, he punted, directly into the hands of Safety Man Danowski, a typical college-boy trick, and he will doubtless hear from Coach Flaherty on that score.

And there was evidence, too, that the Redskins will do all right with Bob Mastersone at one of the ends this season. The green Masterson of last season apparently has vanished and in his place there is a clever diagnostician of enemy plays. Masterson's end was never turned for a gain yesterday and he was embarrassing the Giants all afternoon with his unwanted presence in their backfield.

There may have been more than a pang of regret on the Redskins' bench and in the upstairs box of G.P. Marshall on at least two occasions yesterday. There may have been a yearning for the presence of Tillie Manton, the fellow they summarily fired last month because they didn't like the way he blocked, ran the ball or backed up the line. But he could place-kick, and thus earn his keep.

Manton Might Have Won the Game
He may not have place-kicked a field goal in the mud yesterday, — such as Ken Strong missed twice — but Masterson, who attemped the Redskins' only placement, never has been accused of being in the same class with Manton as a kicker. Manton, we are reminded, once place-kicked 25 consecutive goals in the pro league without a miss, and three points off his toe yesterday would have won the ball game.

Any charge that the pros are mere mercenaries of the gridiron and don't play the game with the same zest as the college boys was pretty well refuted yesterday. Ernie Pinckert and Del Isola certainly weren't thinking purely of their pay envelopes in the first quarter when they hauled off and slugged each other lustily. And Referee Bill Halloran lost no time in thumbing them both out of the game.

That crowd of 26,341 which turned out for the ball game in weather fit only for sea monsters was a striking commentary on the tremendous grip pro football has gained on the Capital. It is, distinctly, the man on the street's kind of football, minus the ivy and college loyalty, but with a proper appreciation for good, tough whacking as long as it is kept clean.

Washington's long-time reputation as a poor football town was apparently undeserved all of these years. It wasn't a poor football town, it simply wouldn't concern itself on any large scale with unattractive schedules of local college teams. It was ripe for a concern like the Redskins who came here with a good football team and play their games in the world's toughest league.

The pro league is no place for the little guy, although there have been exceptions. The Giants' line yesterday averaged 220 pounds, the Redskins' a bit more. Coach Steve Owens, of the Giants, was a 240-pounder when he played football. He's uninterested in anything less than moderate behemoth for his line.

Before the game, Owens was discussing a highly-touted lineman from New Mexico, where he acquired Halfback Eddie Miller. "They told me this Joe Yurcic would make us a great tackle," said Owens, "so we signed him. Why, he was just a little fellow. He didn't weigh a pound over 205, so we let him go."