TOBY AT QUARTER
The outcome of the Forest Hill game was a favorite topic of discussion
during the next few days. Although Yardley had won in the last four
minutes, by means of a well-earned touchdown following a forward pass,
the general opinion was that the Blue had been largely outplayed by
a lighter but much faster eleven. Of course, reverses were to be
expected, but after Yardley’s showing in the Tyron game it did seem
that she should have done better against a “small school team” like
Forest Hill. On the other hand, the local football historians reminded
that some six seasons ago, Forest Hill had actually won from Yardley, 5
to 3, and that it was no uncommon thing for the smaller school to score
against the Blue.
Rumors of changes in the line-up spread, and it was whispered that all
was not serene between captain and coach. Arnold was decidedly glum
that Saturday evening, and, although the usual excursion to Greenburg
in search of moving picture thrills was made, he was no great addition
to the company. Afterwards, when they were preparing for bed, Toby told
him that he was foolish to let football worry him so. “Any one might
think you were captain of the eleven instead of Fanning,” said Toby.
“You act――――”
“I wish I was――were――was――――”
“‘Were’ will do. Why do you wish you was――were?”
“Because I’d drop two or three of the ‘dead-ones’ and have a team
instead of a bunch of stars!”
Toby weighed that in silence. Finally: “Who are the ‘dead-ones’?” he
asked.
Arnold shook his head. “Guess I oughtn’t to talk about it,” he
muttered. “It’s not my business.”
“Right you are! Just remember that. If it’s not your business, don’t
worry about it.”
“That’s easy enough to say,” Arnold grumbled. After a moment he said
explosively, dropping a shoe to the floor in emphasis: “Why Mr. Lyle
doesn’t jump in and fire a couple of those fellows is what gets me! If
he hasn’t got the backbone to stand up against Tom he oughtn’t to be
coach.”
“Oh, well, the season’s young yet,” answered Toby easily. “Maybe Mr.
Lyle is sort of ‘watchful waiting.’ I’m thinking of going to sleep.
When you get through holding your foot in your hand and making faces
you might put out the light. It works quite easily. You just turn the
thingumbob there. Don’t blow it out, please, because――――”
“Because it might stop your chatter! All right. Good-night.”
The rumored changes in the First Team line-up didn’t materialize,
however; at least not during the following week. Arnold reported that
things were going better and gave credit to Mr. Lyle, who, it seemed,
had delivered a few well-chosen words on Monday, before practice. “He’s
really got some of the loafers at work,” said Arnold. “Even Stone is
showing a little animation!”
“Stone being one of the ‘dead-ones’?”
“Well, he hasn’t looked very much alive until this week,” answered
Arnold. “I dare say we’ll get our gait by Saturday. They say Brown and
Young’s is a tough bunch of scrappers. I hope they are. We need to go
up against something that has a wallop!”
“You did that very thing yesterday,” said Toby.
“You’re not far off, at that,” agreed the other. “Your team put up a
mighty pretty scrap. If you’d been half as good on defense as you were
on attack――――”
“Oh, well, I noticed that we held you fellows twice inside our thirty.
Hold your horses. We’ll be beating you badly by the end of the month!”
“Rather fancy yourself, don’t you?” jeered Arnold. “By the way, was
that your friend Tubbs who played left end for you in the last half?”
“Tubb is the gentleman’s name. What did you think of him?”
“Why, he acted like a crazy Indian! He made me nervous looking at him,
and hearing him!”
Toby laughed. “That’s his style, Arn. It’s psychological, you see. He
distracts the attention of the opponent from the game. All that jumping
and up and down and running around and talking is just to get your
goat!”
“Well, he came near getting it, all right! He made as much row as a
Broadwood shortstop with the bases full and two down! But he seemed
to me to be playing a pretty good game, just the same. He was into
everything!”
“Beech says he’s a comer, Arn. If he could only get over the idea that
he’s being imposed on by every one he’d get on a heap better.”
“He’s a chronic sorehead and kicker, I suppose. I’ve met one or two
like him. Maybe he will get over it in time. How’s that other protégé
of yours, the tennis fiend?”
“Ramsey? I don’t see much of him nowadays. But I know that he’s got in
with a fairly decent lot of chaps and looks about fifty per cent better
than he did. I told you about his freezing me one night when I went to
see him? Had both windows wide open and told me he couldn’t get along
without plenty of fresh air. Bet you anything he’d never slept with a
window open in his life until Muscles got at him! You know, I think I
can take a bit of credit for the――the rejuvenation of friend Ramsey!”
“Well, that’s some word, but I dare say you’re right. Now all you’ve
got to do is make Mr. Tubbs over and you’re through.”
“Tubb is a hard-boiled one, Arn, and I haven’t much hope of him. If
I liked him a bit better I suppose I’d take more interest in his
career――――”
“I wish you’d stop talking like a blooming dictionary,” groaned Arnold.
“Now dry up and let me take a fall out of this math.”
That week saw two changes in the Second Team. Sid Creel displaced
Watson at center and George Tubb was shifted from B Team to A. He and
Mawson were used impartially and in the four games that the Second
played against the First that week there appeared to be little choice
between them. The same could be as truthfully said of Toby and Roy
Frick. Sometimes one started the game and sometimes the other, but each
had an equal chance. Toby had his shortcomings and so did his rival,
Toby’s concerning individual play and Frick’s generalship. Or, perhaps,
leadership would be a better word to use. Somehow, or so it seemed
to those whose business it was to note such things, the Second Team
showed more life and aggressiveness when Toby’s shrill voice called
the signals. For Toby’s voice _was_ shrill when he played quarter,
though at other times it was an ordinary tenor of middle register, with
a pleasant touch of Long Island fog in it. But that first day, when
unexpectedly called on to act as quarter-back, Toby’s nervousness had
sent his voice several notes up the scale, and for some reason it had
never come down again so long as he was giving signals. Arnold likened
it to the yelping of a fox terrier one day, and on the next occasion
Toby tried hard to bring it back to normal, with the result that it
sounded as hoarse as a frog with a bad cold, and no one could hear him!
But at individual playing of the position, Roy Frick was better. Frick
was a tricky runner and frequently squirmed outside tackles for needed
gains. And he was a dependable punter. Possibly Toby would have showed
up better beside Frick at this time if he had had more faith in his own
ability, but he was chary of trusting to his own efforts to advance the
ball. On catching punts and running them in, he was not much behind his
rival, and at punting he was fast catching up with him. But there was
no doubt that from the spectator’s point of view Frick was the man for
the job.
There had been no resumption of hostilities between the two. Toby was
willing to forgive and forget, although he secretly disliked Frick for
the latter’s overbearing manner. For his part, Frick had evidently
neither forgiven nor forgotten, but he seemed satisfied to let the
matter rest as it was. Toby had an idea that the other frequently
ridiculed his playing, for sometimes he caught looks of stifled
amusement on the faces of Frick’s cronies. As, however, they were
seldom on the bench at the same time and, being in different classes
and having different circles of friends, scarcely ever encountered each
other off the football field, there was little chance for a clash. At
training table Frick sat four places from Toby on the same side of the
board; and, anyway, at table personal animosities would not be allowed
to flourish. Save for an occasional Sunday, Coach Burtis was always in
his place at the head, and he had a watchful eye and a careful ear.
On Friday, contrary to custom, the Second Team was led across to the
other gridiron for a twelve-minute bout with the First. The First had
not pleased Coach Lyle since the Forest Hill game, and the morrow’s
contest, with Brown and Young’s School would demand all the Blue had.
Toby was sent in at quarter. He noted two changes in the First Team’s
line. Casement was playing right guard in place of Snow and Candee was
at center in Simpson’s stead. Coach Burtis had instructed him to give
the First’s center and right side the brunt of the line attack, and
Toby understood now that the substitutes there were to be put to the
test. He wondered if either of them suspected and whether their own
coach had instigated the ordeal. He felt a bit sorry for Snow, who was
rather light for a guard, and hoped he wouldn’t get used too roughly.
There was no kick-off to-day. Instead, Second was given the ball
in the middle of the field. Coaches and trainers hovered about
like hawks around a chicken yard, and there was much exhorting and
last-moment instructing. First Team had been keyed up to the minute,
and faces showed strain and poised bodies tension. Toby had Nelson,
Lippman, and Crawford behind him, and it was Lippman he chose for
that first attack. His voice yelped, Farquhar, left tackle, trotted
over to the right of the line, the signal came, and Lippman, seizing
the ball at a hand-pass, smashed ahead. Crawford and Toby piled in
behind. The First Team line buckled and snapped back again. Jim Rose,
big and pink-cheeked, roared defiance. “Second down! Nine!” shouted
the referee. Toby grabbed an arm and pulled Lippman out of the pile.
Already he was shouting new signals. Again Farquhar shifted, again
Lippman took the pass. But this time he shot obliquely to the left,
the whole back-field behind him, and plunged at Snow. Through he went,
fighting, squirming, turning! two yards――three――four――Then the rout was
stayed. A faint “Down” and the blowing of the whistle came together.
Toby arose from some one’s unquiet legs and added another note to his
voice:
“That’s the stuff, Second! That’s working! Come on, now! Let’s get ’em
again! Signal!”
“Five to go!” cried the referee, skipping away.
“Hold that side! Hold that side!” shouted Fanning.
“That was on you, Snow!” Mr. Lyle’s voice was ice-cold. “Don’t let them
do it again!”
“Come on, Yardley! Throw ’em back!” called Curran, up-field. “Watch for
a forward, there, Ted!”
Again Second smashed at the First’s right guard and center, and again
the latter yielded. But Crawford had made only a yard and a half, and
now it was fourth down and the forty-yard line was still a good ten
feet distant. Grover Beech pulled Toby’s head down and whispered, and
Toby gave back a doubtful glance. But Beech’s word was law so long
as it didn’t transgress the coach’s instructions, and Toby yielded.
“Farquhar back!” he called. “Hold that line, Second!” Farquhar trotted
to a kicking position and Nelson slipped into the line. First scented
a fake, but covered her field nevertheless. Then the ball shot back to
Lippman and he set out around his end, Toby leading. For a moment the
play looked good, for First had drawn her back-field away, but Sanford
eluded Connell and sent Toby sprawling and Roover got Lippman two
yards short of the distance.
First made two at the Second’s left and then kicked. Crawford misjudged
the ball badly on his twenty-five yards and it went over his head. Toby
fell on it on his fifteen, and two First Team men fell on him. Second
plugged the center again for two, and again for one. Then, on a delayed
pass, Crawford squirmed through Snow for eight yards and first down.
What a scolding there was then! Coach Lyle fairly raised welts. Some
one called for time, and Toby, still short of breath from being sat on
by the First Team ends, was very glad. Beech led him back.
“Watch Stone,” he said. “He’s coming away in on those plays. Slip one
through outside him, Tucker. There’s a fine hole there!”
Toby nodded. “Got to bang the center, though, Beech. Coach’s orders.
I’ll try it, though, first time they tighten.”
Toby shifted his line to the left, and First massed to meet the attack.
Lippman failed at center, Candee standing like a rock. On a fake-kick,
Crawford struck the line hard, but made less than a yard. Crawford
gained three through Snow. Farquhar dropped back and Lippman dashed
outside Stone and reeled off six yards before he was stopped. With one
to go on fourth down, Toby elected to punt, and Farquhar dropped the
pigskin on the First’s thirty-yard line. Roover brought it back to near
the center of the field before Beech pulled him down.
First worked a neat forward-pass that netted seventeen yards and then
smashed through center for five more. Second held twice and First
booted over the line. On the twenty-five Toby returned to the attack on
Snow and Candee and gained six in three downs. A fake-kick resulted in
a fumble and the pigskin went to First on the opponent’s twenty-two.
There was no holding the First Team then and she scored in seven plays,
Snowden landing the ball near the corner of the field. The punt-out was
not allowed and the teams went back to the fifty. Coach Lyle took pity
on Snow and that much-mauled youth was removed in favor of Casement.
For the Second, Stover and White came on for Lippman and Crawford,
and George Tubb for Mawson. Again the kick-off was barred and Second
given the ball. Toby tried the new right guard with no gain, got Stover
around left for three, failed once more at center and himself punted to
First’s twenty. First kicked on second down, Snowden getting nearly
fifty yards. Stover caught and dodged back for ten. From the forty,
Tubb swung around back and gained midfield on a fine run around the
enemy’s left end. Then Toby fumbled and Rose captured the ball for the
First. Another forward pass, Curran to Halliday, took the First to the
Second’s twenty-four, and from there the First battered her way across
for the second score. Before she got it, however, Toby retired groggily
and Frick took his place. Toby had ill-advisedly allowed Snowden to sit
on his stomach. Frick’s labor was soon over, however, for the First
Team’s second touchdown practically ended the game.