Behind the Line: A Story of College Life and Football
CHAPTER XV
AND TELLS OF A DREAM
Mills's face lighted up, and he stretched forth an eager hand.
"Good for you, Burr! Let's see it. Hold on, though; sit down here firstand give me those sticks. There we are. Now fire ahead."
"If you don't mind, I'd like to tell you all about it first, before Ishow you the diagram," said Sydney, his eyes dancing.
"All right; let's hear it," replied the head coach smiling.
"Well," began Sydney, "it's been a puzzler. After I'd seen the secondplaying tackle-back I about gave up hopes of ever finding a--anantidote."
"'Antidote's' good," commented Mills laughingly.
"I tried all sorts of notions," continued Sydney, "and spoiled wholereams of paper drawing diagrams. But it was all nonsense. I had theright idea, though, all the time; I realized that if that tandem wasgoing to be stopped it would have to be stopped before it hitour line."
Mills nodded.
"I had the idea, as I say, but I couldn't apply it. And that's the waythings stood last night when I went to bed. I had sat up until aftereleven and had used up all the paper I had, and so when I got into bed Isaw diagrams all over the place and had an awful time to get to sleep.But at last I did. And then I dreamed.
"And in the dream I was playing football. That's the first time I everplayed it, and I guess it'll be the last. I was all done up in sweatersand things until I couldn't do much more than move my arms and head. Itseemed that we were in 9 Grace Hall, only there was grass instead offloor, and it was all marked out like a gridiron. And everybody wasthere, I guess; the President and the Dean, and you and Mr. Jones, andMr. Preston and--and my mother. It was awfully funny about my mother.She kept sewing more sweaters on to me all the time, because, as shesaid, the more I had on the less likely I was to get hurt. And Devoe wasthere, and he was saying that it wasn't fair; that the football rulesdistinctly said that players should wear only one sweater. But nobodypaid any attention to him. And after a bit, when I was so covered withsweaters that I was round, like a big ball, the Dean whistled and we gotinto line--that is," said Sydney doubtfully, "it was sort of like aline. There was the President and Neil Fletcher and I on one side, andall the others, at least thirty of them, on the other. It didn't seemquite fair, but I didn't like to object for fear they'd say Iwas afraid."
"Well, you _did_ have the nightmare," said Mills. "Then what?"
"The other side got into a bunch, and I knew they were playingtackle-back, although of course they weren't really; they just all stoodtogether. And I didn't see any ball, either. Then some one yelled 'Smash'em up!' and they started for us. At that Neil--at least I think it wasNeil--and Prexy--I mean the President--took hold of me, lifted me uplike a bag of potatoes, and hurled me right at the other crowd. I wentflying through the air, turning round and round and round, till Ithought I'd never stop. Then there was an awful bump, I yelled 'Down!'at the top of my lungs--and woke up. I was on the floor."
Mills laughed, and Sydney took breath.
"At first I didn't know what had happened. Then I remembered the dream,and all on a sudden, like a flash of lightning, it occurred to me that_that_ was the way to stop tackle-back!"
"That? What?" asked Mills, looking puzzled.
"Why, the bag of potatoes act," laughed Sydney. "I jumped up, lightedthe gas, got pencil and paper and went back to bed and worked it out.And here it is."
He drew a carefully folded slip of paper from his pocket and handed itacross to Mills. The diagram, just as the head coach received it, isreproduced here.
Mills studied it for a minute in silence; once he grunted; once helooked wonderingly up at Sydney. In the end he laid it beside him onthe desk.
"I think you've got it, Burr," he said quietly, "I think you've got it,my boy. If this works out the way it should, your nightmare will be theluckiest thing that's happened at Erskine for several years. Draw yourchair up here--I beg your pardon; I forgot. I'll do the moving myself."He placed his own chair beside Sydney's and handed the diagram tohim. "Now just go over this, will you; tell me just what your idea is."
Sydney, still excited over the night's happenings, drew a ready pencilfrom his pocket, and began rather breathlessly:
"I've placed the Robinson players in the positions that our second teamoccupies for the tackle-tandem. Full-back, left tackle, and right half,one behind the other, back of their guard-tackle hole. Now, as the ballgoes into play their tandem starts. Quarter passes the ball to tackle,or maybe right half, and they plunge through our line. That's what theywould do if we couldn't stop them, isn't it?"
"They would, indeed," answered Mills grimly. "About ten yards throughour line!"
"Well, now we place our left half in our line between our guard andtackle, and put our full-back behind him, making a tandem of our own.Quarter stands almost back of guard, and the other half over here. Whenthe ball is put in play our tandem starts at a jump and hits theopposing tandem just at the moment their quarter passes the ball totheir runner. In other words, we get through on to them before they canget under way. Our quarter and right half follow up, and, unless I'maway off on my calculations, that tackle-tandem is going to stop on itsown side of the line."
Sydney paused and awaited Mills's opinion. The latter was silent amoment. Then--
"Of course," he said, "you've thought of what's going to happen to thatleft half?"
"Yes," answered Sydney, "I have. He's going to get most horribly bangedup. But he's going to stop the play."
"Yes, I think he is--if he lives," said Mills with a grim smile. "Theonly objection that occurs to me this moment is this: Have we the rightto place any player in a position like this where the punishment iscertain to be terrific, if not absolutely dangerous?"
"I've thought of that, too," answered Sydney readily. "And I don'tbelieve we--er--you have."
"Well, then I think our play's dished at the start."
"Why, not a bit, sir. Call the players up, explain the thing to them,and tell them you want a man for that position."
"Ah, ask for volunteers, eh?"
"Yes, sir. And you'll have just as many, I'll bet, as there are men!"
Mills smiled.
"Well, it's a desperate remedy, but I believe it's the only one, andwe'll see what can be done. By the way, I observe that you've taken lefthalf for the victim?"
"Yes, sir; that's Neil Fletcher. He's the fellow for it, I think."
"But I thought he was a friend of yours," laughed Mills.
"So he is; that's why I want him to get it; he won't ask anythingbetter. And he's got the weight and the speed. The fellow thatundertakes it has got to be mighty quick, and he's got to have weightand plenty of grit. And that's Neil."
"Yes, I think so too. But I don't want him to get used up and not beable to kick, for we'll need a field-goal before the game is over, ifI'm not greatly mistaken. However, we can find a man for that place,I've no doubt. For that matter, we must find two at least, for one willnever last the game through."
"I suppose not. I--I wish I had a chance at it," said Sydney longingly.
"I wish you had," said Mills. "I think you'd stand all the punishmentRobinson would give you. But don't feel badly that you can't play; aslong as you can teach the rest of us the game you've got honor enough."
Sydney flushed with pleasure, and Mills took up the diagram again.
"Guard and tackle will have their work cut out for them," he said. "AndI'm not sure that left end can't be brought into it, too. There's onegood feature about Robinson's formation, and that is we can imaginewhere it's coming as long as it's a tandem. If we stop them they'll haveto try the ends, and I don't think they'll make much there. Well, we'llgive this a try to-morrow, and see how it works. By the way, Burr," hewent on, "you can get about pretty well on your crutches, can't you?"
"Yes," Sydney answered.
"Good. Then what's to prevent you from coming out to the field in theafternoons and giving us a hand with this? Do you think you could affordthe time?"
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Sydney's eyes dropped; he didn't want Mills to see how near the tearswere to his eyes.
"I can afford the time all right," he answered in a voice that, despitehis efforts, was not quite steady, "if you really think I can be ofany use."
Perhaps Mills guessed the other's pleasure, for he smiled gently as heanswered:
"I don't think; I'm certain. You know this play better than I do; it'syours; you know how you want it to go. You come out and look after theplay; we'll attend to the players. And then, if we find a weak place init, we can all get together and remedy it. But you oughtn't to try andwheel yourself out there and back every day. You tell me what time youcan be ready each afternoon and I'll see that there's a buggywaiting for you."
"Oh, no, really!" Sydney protested. "I'd rather not! I can get to thefield and back easily, without getting at all tired; in fact, I need theexercise."
"Well, if you're certain of that," answered the coach. "But any timeyou change your mind, or the weather's bad, let me know. If you can, I'dlike you to come around here again this evening. I'll have Devoe and thecoaches here, and we'll talk this--this 'antidote' over again.Well, good-by."
Sydney swung himself to the door, followed by Mills, and got into histricycle.
"About eight this evening, if you can make it, Burr," said Mills."Good-by." He stood at the door and watched the other as he trundledslowly down the street.
"Poor chap!" he muttered. And then: "Still, I'm not so sure that he's anobject of pity. If he hasn't any legs worth mentioning, the Almightymade it up to him by giving him a whole lot of brains. If he can't getabout like the rest of us he's a great deal more contented, I believe,and if he can't play football he can show others how to. And," he added,as he returned to his desk, "unless I'm mistaken, he's done it to-day.Now to mail this list and then for the 'antidote'!"
That night in Mills's room the assembled coaches and captain talked overSydney's play, discussed it from start to finish, objected, explained,argued, tore it to pieces and put it together again, and in the endindorsed it. And Sydney, silent save when called on for an explanationof some feature of his discovery, sat with his crutches beside his chairand listened to many complimentary remarks; and at ten o'clock went backto Walton and bed, only to lie awake until long after the town-clockhad struck midnight, excited and happy.
Had you been at Erskine at any time during the following two weeks andhad managed to get behind the fence, you would have witnessed a verybusy scene. Day after day the varsity and the second fought like thebitterest enemies; day after day the little army of coaches shouted andfumed, pleaded and scolded; and day after day a youth on crutchesfollowed the struggling, panting lines, instructing and criticizing, andhappier than he had been at any time in his memory.
For the "antidote," as they had come to call it, had been tried and hadvindicated its inventor's faith in it. Every afternoon the second teamhammered the varsity line with the tackle-tandem, and almost every timethe varsity stopped it and piled it up in confusion. The call forvolunteers for the thankless position at the front of the little tandemof two had resulted just as Sydney had predicted. Every candidate forvarsity honors had begged for it, and some half dozen or more had beentried. But in the end the choice had narrowed down to Neil, Paul,Gillam, and Mason, and these it was that day after day bore the brunt ofthe attack, emerging from each pile-up beaten, breathless, scarred, buthappy and triumphant. Two weeks is short time in which to teach a newplay, but Mills and the others went bravely and confidently to work, andit seemed that success was to justify the attempt; for three daysbefore the Robinson game the varsity had at last attained perfection inthe new play, and the coaches dared at last to hope for victory.
But meanwhile other things, pleasant and unpleasant, had happened, andwe must return to the day which had witnessed the inception of SydneyBurr's "antidote."