I became a San Francisco Forty Niner on the flip of a coin. After Baltimore had folded, I found myself exactly where I had been three years before as a green-eared kid out of LSU - in the player draft.

The New York Giants had the bonus pick in 1951 - a practice since discontinued, and they selected Kyle Rote, an All-American halfback out of Southern Methodist. It was common knowledge that Rote would be the first man drafted by the pros. The Chicago Bears were next and they chose quarterback Bob Williams out of Notre Dame.

With San Francisco, Green Bay and Washington all having the same dismal 3-9 record the year before, a coin was flipped to determine which club would pick next.

The coin was tossed into the air and 49ers' general manager, Lou (Lucky Lou) Spadia called out "Heads!" Heads it was and Spadia immediately said, "We'll take Y. A. Tittle!"

I liked the owner Tony Morabito from the moment I met him. He was not only a smart businessman - he was also fair. I trusted him. A verbal contract for $13,500 was agreed upon. I was anxious to play football on a new team, in a new atmosphere and with a new administration and coaching staff.

When I returned to Austin, I received a phone call Jim Cason - my old LSU sidekick. While I was playing for the Colts, Jim had been with San Francisco. He was glad to once again be playing on the same team with me - and so was I. He told me that Buck Shaw was a fine coach and that the 49ers had a good ball club.

"Will I get a chance to play out there?" I asked Jim. "Frankie Albert is a San Francisco hero and, frankly, I'm concerned about how much quarterbacking I will do."

"Sure, you'll have a chance to play," he replied encouragingly. "This is a great opportunity for you. Albert's getting old and can't go on forever."

Nearing the end of one practice session, we devoted the remainder of our time to a dummy pass scrimmage - which didn't go well to say the least. Our ends were consistently dropping balls, and our defensive linemen were rushing through before I could pick out my receivers. It was a mess.

Disgusted with it all, I decided to just throw the ball straight up into the air - with no receiver in mind. At first it soared into the atmosphere then hung there a moment and finally floated down towards R. C. Owens who was surrounded by three defensive backs. Just then R. C. leaped into the air and grabbed the ball while the defensive players stood there dumbfounded.

No one was more surprised than me when Owens caught that pass. Just then someone on the sidelines yelled out, "Hey, that's our Alley-Oop play!"

The name caught on and so did the play. For the remainder of the week Owens and I worked on the Alley-Oop pass after regular practice had ended.

The mechanics of the play were not fancy. The concept was simple. I was to throw the ball as high and as far as I could. R. C. would jog down the field, wait for the ball to get about fourteen feet from the ground, and then out jump everybody around him. This former College of Idaho basketball star could really soar through the air. At the height of his jump, he was usually head and shoulders above the defensive backs. The only defense against it was a defensive back who could out leap R. C. - and at that time, no such animal existed within the NFL.

To this day the Rams are and always will be the biggest rival of the 49ers. It was a Northern California/Southern California thing. You had to live here to understand it.

In 1960, San Francisco had lost four of its first eight games, and trailed the Packers by three games in the Western Division race. My own personal situation was much the same and just as depressing. I was 34 years old, was suffering from a groin injury which had failed to respond to treatment, and was collecting splinters from riding the bench behind Brodie.

Each week John and I never knew who would be the starter of the game. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and I believe Brodie felt as uneasy as I did. This tension began to infiltrate into everything we did. The day we played the Packers in Green Bay, Brodie and I were warming up in a pass drill. Even though we didn't always know where he was, we knew that Red Hickey was watching us intently.