Left Guard Gilbert

  CHAPTER IV

  THE FIRST GAME

  DON sat on the bench and watched the game with Thacher School. With himwere nearly a dozen other substitutes, but they, unlike Don, were infootball togs and might, in fact probably would, get into the gamesooner or later. There was no such luck for Don so long as his handremained swathed in bandages, and he was silently bewailing his luck. Athis right sat Danny Moore, chin in hand and elbow in palm, viewing thecontest from half-closed eyes. The trainer was small and red of hair andvery freckled, and he was thoroughly Irish and, in the manner of hisrace, mightily proud of it. Also, he was a clever little man and a goodtrainer.

  An attempted forward pass by the visitors grounded and the horn squawkedthe end of the first period. Danny turned his beady green eyes on Don."Likely you're wishin' yourself out there with the rest of 'em, boy," hesaid questioningly.

  Don nodded, smiled his slow smile and shook his head. "I guess I won'tget into it for a week yet. Doc says this hand has got to do a lot ofhealing first. He has a fine time every day pulling and cutting the oldskin off it. Guess he enjoys it so much he will hate to have it heal. Ishould think, Danny, that if I had a heavy glove, sort of padded in thepalm, I might play a little."

  "Sure, I'll fix you up something real nate," replied Danny readily."Nate an' scientific, d'ye see? An' so soon as the Doc says the word youcome to me an' I'll be having it ready for you."

  "Will you? Thanks, Danny. That's great! I would like to get back topractice again. I'm afraid I'll be as stiff and stale as anything if Istay out much longer."

  "Go easy on your eating, lad, and it'll take you no time at all to catchup with the rest of 'em. Spread this hand for me while I see the shapeof it. What happened to your finger there?"

  "I broke it when I was a little kid, playing baseball."

  "Sure, whoever set it for you must have been cross-eyed," said thetrainer, drily. "'Tis a bum job he did."

  "Yes, it's a little crooked, but it works all right."

  "You'd have hard work gettin' your engagement ring over that lump, I'mthinking. It's a fortunate thing you're not a girl, d'ye mind."

  Don laughed. "Engagement rings go on the other hand, don't they, Danny?"

  "Faith, I don't know. Bad luck to him, he's done it again!"

  "Who? What?" asked Don startledly.

  "Jim Morton. That's twice today he's spilled most of the water from thepail. Well, I'll have to go an' fill it, I suppose."

  Danny went off to get the water bucket and the teams lined up again nearthe visitors' twenty-five yard line. Coach Robey had put in a somewhatpatched-up team today. Captain Edwards was at left end, Clint Thayer atleft tackle, Gafferty at left guard, Peters at centre, Pryme at rightguard, Crewe at right tackle, Lee at right end, Carmine at quarter, St.Clair and Gordon at half and Martin at full. It was not the best line-uppossible, but it was so far handling the situation fairlysatisfactorily. The practice of the last two days had developed one ortwo strains and proved more than one of the first-choice fellows farbelow condition. Tim Otis was out for a day or two with a twisted kneeand Tom Hall with a lame shoulder. Thursby had developed an erraticstreak the day before and was nursing his chagrin further along thebench. Holt, the best right end, was in trouble with the faculty, andRollins, full-back, had pulled a tendon in his ankle. A full team ofsecond- and third-string players were having signal work on the practicegridiron.

  In the stands a fairly good-sized gathering of onlookers was applaudinglistlessly at such infrequent times as the maroon-and-grey team gave itany excuse. Thus far, however, exciting episodes had been scarce. Theweather, which was enervatingly warm, affected both elevens and theplaying was sluggish and far from brilliant. The Brimfield backs, withthe exception of Carmine, who was always on edge, conducted themselvesas if they were at a rehearsal, accepting the ball in an indifferentmanner and half-heartedly plunging at the opposing line or joggingaround the ends. As the first half drew to a close both goal lines werestill unthreatened and from all indications would remain so for the restof the contest. A slight thrill was developed, though, just before thesecond period came to an end when a Thacher half-back managed to getaway outside Crewe and romped half the length of the field before he waslaid low by Carmine. After that there was an exchange of punts and theteams trotted off to the gymnasium.

  Don left the bench with the others, but did not follow them to thedressing room. Instead, he strolled down the running track and across tothe practice field, where Tim was superintending the signal practice.Don joined him and followed the panting, perspiring players down thefield. Tim's conversation was rather difficult to follow, since hecontinually interrupted himself to instruct or admonish the toilers.

  "I feel like a slave-driver, pushing these poor chaps around in thisheat. How's the game going? No score? We must be playing pretty punk, Iguess. What sort of a team has--Jones, you missed your starting signalagain. For the love of mud, keep your ears open!--Thacher must be as badas we are. Who's playing in my place? Gordon? Is he doing anything?--Trythem on that again, McPhee, will you? Robbins, you're supposed to blockhard on that and not let your man through until the runner's got intothe line.--I could have played today all right, but that idiot, Danny,wouldn't let me. My knee's perfectly all right."

  "Then why do you limp?" asked Don innocently.

  "Force of habit," said Tim. "What time is it?"

  Don consulted his silver watch and announced a quarter to four.

  "Thank goodness! That'll do, fellows. You'd better get your showersbefore you try to see that game. If Danny catches you over there the wayyou are he will just about scalp you! By the way, McPhee, you saw what Imeant about that end-around play, didn't you? You can't afford to slowup the play by waiting for your end to get to you. He's got to be inposition to take the pass at the right second. Otherwise they'll comethrough on you and stop him behind the line. There ought to beabsolutely no pause between Smith's pass to you and your pass toCompton, or whoever the end is. You get the ball, turn quick, toss it tothe end and fall in behind him. It ought to be almost one motion. Ofcourse, I know you fellows were pretty well fagged today, but you don'twant to let your ends think they can take their time on that play, oldman, for it's got to be fast or it's no earthly good. Thus endeth thelesson. Come on, Don, and we'll go over and add the dignity of ourpresence to that little affair."

  They reached the bench just as the two teams trotted back andBrimfield's supporters raised a faint cheer. Don imagined that there wasa little more vim in the way the maroon-and-grey warriors went into thefield for the second half and the results proved him right.

  It was the home team's kick-off, and after Captain Edwards, in theabsence of Hall, had sped the ball down to Thacher's twenty yards and aThacher player had sped it back to the thirty, Brimfield settled down tobusiness. Probably Coach Robey's remarks in the interim had beensufficiently caustic to get under the skin. At all events Brimfieldforced Thacher to punt on third down and then almost blocked the kick.As it was, the ball hurtled out of bounds near the middle of the fieldand became Brimfield's on her forty-eight. Two plunges netted fiveyards, and then St. Clair, returning to form, ripped his way past tackleon the left and fought over two white lines before he was halted. Gordonand Martin made it first down in three tries and Carmine worked the leftend for four more. Thacher stiffened then, however, and after twoineffectual plunges St. Clair punted and Brimfield caught on her goalline and ran back a dozen yards, Lee, right end, missing his tacklebadly and Steve Edwards being neatly blocked off. But Thacher found thegoing even harder than her opponent had and in a moment she, too, wasforced to punt.

  This time it was St. Clair who caught and who, eluding both Thacherends, ran straight along the side line until he was upset near theenemy's thirty-five yards. As he went down he managed to get one footover the line and the referee paced in fifteen yards, set the ball toearth and waved toward the Thacher goal.

  Martin faked a forward pass and the ball went to Gordon for a try atright tackle. Thayer and
Gafferty opened a fine hole there and Gordonromped through and made eight before the Thacher secondary defencebrought him down. Martin completed the distance through centre. From thetwenty-four yards to the ten the ball went, progress, however, becomingslower as the attack neared the goal. On a shift that brought Thayer tothe right side of the line, St. Clair got around the short end for threeand Martin added two more, leaving the pigskin on the five-yard line. Itwas third down and Martin went back to kick. But after a moment'shesitation Carmine changed his signals and the ends stole out toward theside lines. Thacher proceeded to arrange her forces to intercept aforward pass and again Carmine switched. The ends crept back and Martinretired to the fifteen-yard line and patted the turf. Carmine knelt infront of him and eyed the goal. Then the signals came again, and withthem the ball, and it was Martin who caught it and not Carmine. Twosteps to the right, a quick heave, a frenzied shouting from thedefenders of the goal, a confused jostling, and Captain Edwards, onefoot over the line, reached his arms into the air, pulled down thehurtling pigskin, tore away from one of the enemy, lunged forward andwent down under a mass of bodies, but well over the goal line.

  Brimfield found her enthusiasm then, and her voice, and cheered loudlyand long, only ceasing when Carmine walked out with the ball under hisarm and flung himself to the turf opposite the right hand goal post.Thursby, hustled in by Coach Robey, measured distance and direction,stepped forward and, as the line of Thacher warriors swept forward withupstretched hands, swung his toe against the ball and sent it neatlyacross the bar.

  With the score seven to nothing against her, Thacher returned to thefray with a fine determination, but, when the teams had changed placesafter the kick-off and the last period had begun, she speedily foundthat victory was not to be her portion. Mr. Robey sent in nearly a newteam during that last ten minutes and the substitutes, fresh and eager,went at it hammer-and-tongs. Thacher enlisted fresh material, too, butit couldn't stop the onslaught that soon took the ball down the field towithin close scoring distance of her goal. That Brimfield did not addanother touchdown was only because her line, overanxious, was twicefound off-side and penalised. Even then the ball went at last to withinsix inches of the goal line and it was only after the nimble referee haddug into the pile-up like a terrier scratching for a bone in an ash-heapthat the fact was determined that Thacher had saved her bacon by thewidth of the ball. She kicked out of danger from behind her goal andafter two plays the final whistle blew.

  It was a very hot and very weary crowd of fellows who thronged thedressing room in the gymnasium five minutes later and, above the swishof water in the showers, shouted back and forth and discussed the gamefrom as many angles as there had been participants. Possibly Brimfieldhad no very good reason for feeling proud of her afternoon's work, forlast year she had defeated Thacher 26 to 3. That game, however, hadtaken place two weeks later in the season, when the Maroon-and-Grey wasbetter off in the matter of experience, and so perhaps was not a faircomparison. At all events, Brimfield liked the way she had "come back"in that third period and liked the way in which the substitutes hadbehaved, and displayed a very evident inclination to pat herself on theback.

  Tim, who had haled Don into the gymnasium on the way back to hall, triedhis best to convince all those who would listen to him that they hadplayed a perfectly punk game and that nothing but the veriest fluke hadaccounted for that score. But they called him a "sore-head" and laughedat him, and even drove him away with flicking towels, and he finallygave it up and consented to accompany Don back to Billings, limping atrifle whenever he thought no one was looking.

  Don missed Tim at supper, for the training tables started that eveningand Tim went off to one of them with his napkin ring and his ownparticular bottle of tomato catsup, leaving his chum feeling forlornly"out of it."