There are moments at the office of Parker and Glacken, investment counselors, when Scotty Glacken's mind wanders away from business. "We're not on AstroTurf now," the Georgetown football coach then silently reminds himself.
There are moments when Hoya quarterback Bobby Gerard sits in a chemistry class concentrating on the wishbone offense. "The teacher says to me, 'Mr. Gerard, can you repeat what I just said?' and I say, 'Are you kidding?'"
There are moments when Jim Marchiony, Hoya sports information director, has to laugh. "Our scoreboard isn't up yet so we have a guy with a walkie-talkie following the ref around so we know how much time is left in the press box. I don't know who was on the walkie-talkie last week but I heard it was the ref's son."
This is Division III football, Georgetown style. Like everything else in Georgetown, Hoya football is quaint. The coaches are businessmen, the players are pre-med and the whole program is a wondrously woven winner in bits of blue and gray.
"It is terribly important that Georgetown has a winning football team," say Glacken. "This Catholic game is especially important. We run into Cu coaches at all the watering holes -- they don't have to say anything but we know what they're thinking."
The annual game with Catholic is always the acme of the Georgetown schedule. With both teams being Division III powers this year, Glacken flies out of his Silver Spring office at 3:30 p.m. every day, changing clothes and temperament along the way to Kehoe Field.
"You have to be very well organized when your whole staff owns their own businesses," says Glacken. "It gets a little crazy at 4:20 when you're discussing what to do for a 4:30 practice."
The week's organization starts Sunday afternoon, "the only day we don't have any office conflicts," says Glacken. "We discuss the last game and plan what we'll be doing for the next week.
Many of the conventions of bigtime college football are glossed over at Georgetown. "Yeah, we take a quick look at some game films," says Glacken.
After all, in the dark, all game films look alike. Glacken has better things to do; he knows he can play up to the intelligence of his team.
Gerard, sitting in the training room, close to being in suspended animation with most of his major muscles soaking in ice, smiles about the way the Hoyas get things done. "We don't even have a playbook. We'll come up with a play Thursday and use it Saturday."
Gerard loves talking football. He graphically describes all the options against a very tough Catholic defense. The descriptions are replete with grid-iron jargon. You could almost close your eyes and think you're listening to the quarterback from Ohio State previewing the Rose Bowl.
But then Gerard will say, "I wanted to go to Harvard but I did'nt get in. I got into Williams and Lehigh but decided to come here. I love the football program here. It's not so high pressure. There's probably less pressure here than in high school football."
Gerard looks at his chest. The left side is hairy enough to be mistaken for a cashmere sweater. The right side is clean shaven so Gerard can be taped. "You gotta love football to go through this," he says.
Glacken, who says his team is as good as the players who happen to try out that year, adds, "This is an academic school. I don't give speeches to my team out of the Knute Rockne mentality because these guys are too intelligent and self-motivated. I just try to tell them my feelings about the game."
Gerard laughs again.
"Scotty's a milk guy off the field but when he gets into the game, he goes wild," he says. "He's right there with me on every play. He feels the same things I feel. It's wild to see the other coaches trying to calm Scotty down."
Georgetown is a friendly neighborhood.
Defensive tackle Mike Foster, also hip-deep in ice, also enjoys the serious yet laissez-faire Hoyas.
"It's crazy sometimes . . . you look up in the stands and you know three-quarters of the crowd is getting loaded and not even watching," he says. "But I don't mind. I have friends who play in the Big Ten. They don't really go to college, they just play football. They have to report to their coaches to go the the bathroom. On top of that, some of them never even play."
Foster probably wouldn't play there either. Ed Carroll and Rick Trainer, the right side of the Georgetown defensive line, definitely wouldn't play there. Carroll weighs 175 -- about the same as Gerard, the quarterback who Carroll is responsible for protecting. Trainer, the bulk of the right side, weighs 190.
"They call us the dynamic duo," says Carroll. "Rick and I have been the right side of the line for three years. I hear Catholic's got some big defensive linemen . . . Hmmmmmm."
Gerard and Foster finally emerge from the training room ice buckets at 7 p.m.
"The whole team's a mess by this time of year," says Foster. The mess files out to the library and night classes.
Back in the sports information office, Marchiony tells everyone the Hoyas will be ready for Catholic. He's got all the answers, as any good SID should. Somebody asks him why Catholic beat Duquesne, 36-0, while the Hoyas beat the same squad by only 6-0. Speaking with the intense severity of Hoya football, Marchiony says, "Something was wrong with Duquesne when they played Catholic."