A NARROW MARGIN
At half-past five that Friday afternoon the North Bank first and second
teams drew apart from each other, weary and breathless, and heard
gratefully the voice of the trainer: “Get your blankets on, every one
of you, and beat it in! All through, ain’t you, Coach?”
“All through! Every one in on the run!”
On the run, indeed! Jerry, who had played but fifteen minutes of the
long scrimmage, had all he could do to jog, and there were many who
disdained to make the least pretense of obedience. That had been the
hardest day’s work of the season. Usually on the eve of a contest as
important as the Brackett’s game the first-choice fellows were handled,
if not with gloves, at least with consideration. But this afternoon
regulars and substitutes had toiled equally hard, and there were many
murmurs of protest and disgust in the locker room afterwards. Jerry,
tiredly struggling with his shoe laces, overheard a conversation beside
him. It was Furchgott who began it.
“That guy’s crazy,” he confided to Gus Ashley. “How’s he think a
fellow’s going to get through to-morrow’s game if he kills him to-day?”
“You didn’t work much,” answered Ashley. “What’s your kick?”
“I worked a-plenty,” growled the substitute guard. “Anyway, some of you
fellows will be N. G. to-morrow, and it won’t be any one’s fault but
Thorne’s.”
“Reckon we can stand it,” said Ashley cheerfully. “Reckon we’re all
pretty fit, Furchy. After all, the worst’s over. Next week’s just easy
stuff. What did you think of the new play?”
“Oh, all right, I suppose. Funny time to spring new stuff, though.
There’s only four work days left.”
“And about seven work nights,” chuckled the other. “Don’t forget our
jolly little blackboard parties, old son!”
“I know, but just the same you can’t learn four or five new plays and a
new set of signals in a week! He’s crazy, Thorne is.”
“We’ll see a week from to-morrow. Let’s hope for the best, you blamed
croaker. Get up off that towel!”
Jerry watched the two push their way through the throng to the showers.
He wondered if Furchgott was right, if the new play that had been
introduced with what seemed excellent success had been found too late.
Mr. Thorne had worked hard with it and the first team had taken to it
eagerly, and when it had been thrice tried on the second it had worked
well each time. Once Jerry himself had made the pass, and he had
shot the ball over to Ashley for a fine gain of nearly fifteen yards
and had glowed with exultation. Then, two plays later, faking another
forward first, he had dropped the pigskin and punted it high and far
to the confusion of the second team quarter, who, anticipating another
forward pass, had edged down toward the line. Later, Omstead and Gray
had participated in the play, and each time it had caught the opponent
napping and gained territory. It would, reflected Jerry, be too bad if
the play must be discarded for want of time to teach it.
But that fear was laid that evening when the players gathered in
the rowing room in the gymnasium for what Gus Ashley had called a
blackboard party. For Play Number 23 was amongst those that Coach
Thorne gave much attention to and it wasn’t abandoned until every
fellow there understood it thoroughly. “I consider this the best of
the forward-pass plays,” said Mr. Thorne, “and I’ve decided to use it
instead of Number 19. So we have four plays of this kind left: the
ordinary short pass across the center of the line, the forward pass
from end to end, the forward pass from quarter to end, and this forward
pass by half back from ordinary formation. Of the three the last offers
the best protection for the thrower and is consequently to my mind the
more promising. I may tell you, as a matter of interest, that it was
brought to me by one of the players and that I claim no credit for it.
Now does every one understand it? Are there any questions?”
Accusing glances were exchanged by the players, but none acknowledged
the authorship of Play Number 23. Jerry was relieved to find that
Captain Mansfield had not told. It seemed to him that the invention
of a play by one who knew as little football as he did savored of
impertinence! But, of course, the secret didn’t remain a secret
long, and when Jerry reached the gymnasium the next afternoon much
good-natured joshing awaited him. Purves Jordan, however, was not
included among the good-natured ones. Jordan had just about abandoned
hope of getting placed in the Cumbridge game and held Jerry to blame,
and he had nothing flattering to say of the new play. Changing into his
football togs, Jerry could not help overhearing a conversation between
Jordan, Furchgott and Summerfield, although the three were in the next
alcove and a double tier of lockers intervened.
“Who says it’s Benson’s play?” demanded Jordan. “It’s as old as the
hills! All he did was swipe it from somewhere.”
“Well, there aren’t any new plays, for that matter,” said Summerfield.
“But I reckon Benson thinks it’s new. I don’t believe he stole it.
We’ve never used it before, anyway.”
“Well, others have,” said Jordan, and Furchgott threw in a corroborative
“Sure!”
“Where’d you ever see it?” asked Summerfield suspiciously.
“I didn’t say I’d seen it; not played, I mean. But it’s been used lots
of times. Why, it stands to reason that there’s nothing new in having
the half back make a forward pass!”
“No, but there’s something new, maybe, in having him make it in the way
he does in this play. The beauty of it is that Cumbridge won’t know it
is a forward. It looks like a split play with full back taking the ball
around left end.”
“If it fools Cumbridge I’ll eat my hat,” declared Jordan.
“Oh, you’re sore because you didn’t think of it yourself,” laughed the
substitute right half. “Stop knocking, Jordan.”
There was more, perhaps, but Jerry didn’t hear it, for Billy Conger
playfully smote him on the back with his head guard just then and
addressed him as “the Board of Strategy.” “That’s a nice little play of
yours, Jerry,” said Conger. “Didn’t know you were a football general. I
tried that sort of thing last year, but every play I made up had been
discovered by Walter Camp the last year of the Civil War!”
“I reckon maybe this play ain’t new,” said Jerry apologetically. “I
heard a fellow say it ain’t, anyway.”
“It’s new around here, though, so you should worry. If we can get a few
first downs with it, it’s new enough for us.”
Much to his surprise, Jerry started the game that afternoon at left
half. There was a fairly stiff breeze blowing down the field, and North
Bank, winning the toss, yielded the ball and chose the east goal and
what benefit might accrue from the wind. Brackett’s kick-off was short
and the teams lined up for the first scrimmage on the Light Blue’s
twenty-eight. One attempt at the left of center yielded three yards and
then Tub Keller called for a punt. Jerry’s toe sent the pigskin down
to Brackett’s twenty and Mansfield stopped the opposing quarter before
he had dug his cleats twice. Brackett’s made eight yards on three
tries and again punted short. Near her forty-yard line North Bank gave
the ball to Duveen for two tries at the center that yielded but three
yards. Keller circled right end for three more and again Jerry punted.
This time Brackett’s broke through and hurried the kick and the ball
went slicing off to the right and rolled out at the enemy’s thirty-two.
Brackett’s worked back to midfield on three plunges and a forward pass
that caught the Light Blue napping and then punted to the opponent’s
eighteen. Although the kick had distance, it was too fast for the
Brackett’s ends and Butterfield brought it back to the twenty-seven
before he was stopped. Ashley made six around left and Duveen hammered
the line for two more. Jerry found a hole between left guard and tackle
and barely got the distance. Ashley secured four on a crisscross that
sent him close off left tackle, Jerry failed to gain on a straight
buck at the same place and Keller tried a heave to Mansfield over the
center. Mansfield touched the ball but failed to catch it and Jerry
punted on fourth down.
This time the ball sailed nobly to the enemy’s goal line, aided by the
wind, and the enemy back was downed on his thirteen. That was too
close for Brackett’s comfort, and she opened her line and tried two
forwards, the first a double pass that sent the ball well down the
field to a waiting end. Mansfield spoiled that, however, and the ball
grounded. The second attempt went to the other side of the gridiron
and over the head of the catcher. Forced to punt, Brackett’s toed the
ball from just inside her goal line and, by keeping it low, managed to
send it to her forty, where Keller caught and ran back twelve before
he was thrown. Two tries at the line found the enemy invulnerable and
Jerry once more went back to kicking position. This time a short punt
was necessary, for he was standing close to the enemy’s forty-yard
line. The result was all that could have been wished, for the ball came
down in the right-hand corner of the field and Brackett’s half fumbled
it near the five yards, recovered it and was dropped in his tracks
by Butterfield. North Bank was howling for a score, but Brackett’s,
although at bay on her threshold, had possession of the ball. She
made two through Norris and added two more past Hickson and again
punted, this time from behind her goal line. The kicker was anxious,
and anxiety defeated him, for the ball went almost straight in the
air and when it landed it was North Bank’s on the nineteen yards.
Ashley again profited by a crisscross, plunging past left tackle to
the enemy’s fifteen, and Duveen got two more at the right of center.
Then Tub Keller signaled for “21.” Jerry followed Ashley and Duveen
around right end, Keller ran back with the ball, side-stepped a tackle
who had leaked through, and threw across the line to Mansfield. The
captain, although threatened by a frantic quarter back, made the catch
and circled around to the goal, placing the ball squarely between
the posts. And North Bank cheered delightedly. Omstead came in for
the try-at-goal and Jerry yielded his head guard sorrowfully. As he
accepted a blanket from Riordan, Coach Thorne nodded to him from the
end of the bench.
“Good work, Benson,” he called.
Jerry watched Omstead convert the 6 into a 7 and added his cheer to the
others, but he did wish he might have stayed in! The quarter ended a
moment later and the teams changed fields.
There was no more scoring in that half, although, aided by the wind,
Brackett’s twice threatened the Light Blue’s goal. That quarter proved
that the enemy’s line was too strong for North Bank and that on the
other hand, North Bank, from tackle to tackle, was too much for
Brackett’s. Neither team was able to make much headway on straight line
bucking, and plays off tackle, wide runs around the end and forward
passes could alone be relied on to advance either eleven. The half
ended with the ball on North Bank’s seventeen yards in her possession.
Coach Thorne was dissatisfied with the team’s showing and said so
frankly between the halves, and in the third quarter the Light Blue
displayed rather more punch. Yet it was in that quarter that Brackett’s
obtained her only score. For five minutes the ball hovered around
midfield, and then Duveen punted to the enemy’s thirty-two and the
Brackett’s quarter caught and, eluding Mansfield and Hickson very
neatly, scampered along the side line until Keller threw him at North
Bank’s thirty-six. Two attempts at the left of the Light Blue’s line
gained four yards and then Brackett’s pulled off her only really
worth-while forward pass of the day. It was a throw following a double
pass and went more than twenty yards across the field to a waiting half
back. Omstead had put the end out, but the half had eluded him, and,
although Keller, speeding to the scene, nearly spoiled the catch, the
Brackett’s man pulled the ball down and scampered unchallenged to a
touchdown!
As afterwards proved, the wind alone saved the day for North Bank.
The Brackett’s full back kicked from almost in front of the goal, but
lifted the ball too high and an obliging breeze caught it and deposited
it gently inside the crossbar!
Although both teams struggled hard during the rest of that period
and all through the last, no more scoring resulted. Substitutes were
thrown in regardless toward the end on both sides, and every player on
the North Bank bench was used. Jerry started the fourth period, but
gave way to Gray before the last. While he was in he had a taste of
the difficulties of punting into a strong wind, and on one occasion
watched horrifiedly while the pigskin encountered a sudden harder gust
and came to earth less than twenty yards from where it had started.
Twice, though, he managed long kicks by keeping the ball low. Number
21 was the only one of the new plays tried that afternoon, and if
the Cumbridge scouts, of whom three were unconcealedly present, had
expected to profit by the journey they must have felt disappointed.
The final score of 7 to 6 indicated very fairly the comparative merits
of the two teams that day, but brought no particular encouragement to
North Bank. For several days the school was inclined to be pessimistic
regarding the Cumbridge contest, since, two weeks before, the Dark
Blue had beaten Brackett’s by the one-sided score of 19 to 6. Yet by
Wednesday, which day witnessed the final hard practice session of the
year, hope had returned and dismal forebodings were no more in favor.
After all, Cumbridge looked no better on paper than her rival. Although
she had won five games and lost two, while North Bank had won four and
lost three, she had scored fewer points. The Light Blue had run up a
total of 76 against her opponents’ 54, while the Dark Blue had scored
65 to her opponents’ 58. This, and the fact that on Saturday Cumbridge
had made rather a poor showing against a confessedly weak adversary,
were made the most of by North Bank. Cheer meetings were held almost
every night and as the great day approached enthusiasm waxed higher and
higher.
Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday were devoted to perfecting the Light
Blue’s offense and learning the new signals. The four new plays, 21,
22, 23 and 24, were practiced over and over. The title Number 24 had
been given to the variation of 23 that changed that forward-pass play
into an unexpected punt by the left half back. Every night there was a
blackboard drill in the rowing room and by the middle of the week the
eighteen plays that had finally been selected for use against Cumbridge
were well learned. These plays included six straight bucks, two splits,
a crisscross, a delayed pass, three end runs, four forward passes and
one concealed kick. As all but one of these, the latter, could be used
on each side of center, North Bank was to enter the big game with
thirty-five plays.
There was no morning punting work for Jerry that week, for Mr. Thorne
prohibited it tersely. As it was, Jerry went to bed at night with his
head so filled with football that another speck would have cracked it
open. His conversation those days included no subject not intimately
connected with the gridiron and Tom disgustedly told him that he was
no longer a fit associate for sane persons. His studies suffered, you
may be sure, but so did those of some twenty-six other youths, and the
instructors treated him with sorrowful patience and postponed the day
of reckoning. Somewhat to his surprise, Jerry had managed to add twelve
pounds to his weight between the middle of October and the twentieth
of November, and, although the last few days of the season threatened
to take toll of this gain, he promised to emerge from his football
experience many pounds to the good. Sometimes he wondered if his
brain would hold out, but it did, in spite of Tom’s assertions to the
contrary. Tom was outwardly a very unsympathetic companion during that
final week of stress and excitement, but at heart he was rooting hard
for his chum.
The second disbanded on Thursday, after some twenty minutes of kid-glove
opposition to the first, cheered themselves most enthusiastically while
they paraded around the campus and then assembled at the jumping pit to
make a bonfire of all the worn-out football paraphernalia they could lay
their hands on, and, joining hands, circled the pyre madly, to the
delight of the onlookers.
There was no practice on Friday save a short signal drill and an
enlightening talk by Mr. Tibbs on the Cumbridge attack and defense.
Mr. Tibbs had watched the enemy play the preceding Saturday and seemed
to have returned with a very healthy regard for her prowess. Friday,
on the whole, was a hard day to live through. In the evening a brief
blackboard drill was held a half hour earlier that the players might
attend the final cheer meeting. Jerry found this a disconcerting
experience, especially as Fate denied him a seat in the back row on
the platform and he was forced to sit for quite fifteen minutes with a
frozen grin on his face in full view of some one hundred and seventy
shouting maniacs. He was very glad when, to a final thunderous cheer,
he was allowed to escape with his companions and crawl into a bed that
never felt more grateful. At midnight, however, long after Tom had gone
to sleep, he was still staring into the darkness.