FOOTBALL WITH BREWER
Dan didn’t have to ask Payson’s permission to accompany the team to
Brewer on the ninth, for when the list was posted his name was on it.
Williams was still on the injured list and it was thought advisable to
take a full set of substitute ends along. Minturn was to take Williams’
place, Dickenson was to play at right end as usual and Vinton and
Norton, of the Second, were to substitute. When the carriages left the
gymnasium at half-past twelve on Saturday afternoon there were eighteen
players and substitutes aboard. Then there was Payson, Andy Ryan, Paddy
Forbes, the rubber, and Stevie. Stevie was Mr. Stephen Parke Austin,
A.B., instructor in chemistry, a man of twenty-four so recently off his
college football field that he was still an enthusiastic follower of
the game. The school rules required that when the team played away from
home it should be accompanied by one of the faculty, and to Mr. Austin
this office usually fell. The fellows all liked Stevie, and were always
pleased when he occupied the position of “chaperone.”
In the Square at Greenburg the expedition alighted and cooled their
heels until the special car made its appearance. There were plenty
of stores handy and so the fellows spent money riotously for sweet
chocolate and chewing gum. There was a popular demand for peanuts but
Andy wouldn’t allow its gratification. The special car finally put in
its appearance and they fought their way inside. There were plenty
of seats for all, but that didn’t prevent them from indulging in a
small-sized riot. Andy smiled approvingly. He liked to see the team
cut up a bit; it proved that they had plenty of spirit. Dan found
himself between big Hadlock, the left guard, and Clapp, the substitute
quarter-back who was to start to-day’s game. Clapp was a First Class
youth of about eighteen years of age, short and sturdy and a trifle too
stout for an ideal quarter. He had been a substitute for three years,
never having attained a proficiency entitling him to first place.
To-day he looked worried and nervous, and Dan wished that Payson would
change his mind and let Loring start the game.
Their route lay through a picturesque chain of little villages, the
approach to each one of them being the signal for frantic cheering from
the car. At a few minutes before two o’clock they drew up in the center
of Brewer, a manufacturing town of some fifteen thousand inhabitants,
and changed to a big coach in which they finished their journey,
arriving at the athletic field at twenty minutes after two. The game
was scheduled for three o’clock, and so there was plenty of time in
which to change their clothes in the little draughty shed that did duty
for dressing room and to limber up afterwards. When they went out on
the field at a quarter to three the small, tumble-down stand was packed
and the gridiron was surrounded two or three deep. Near the center of
the field a parcel of some thirty or forty Yardley Hall boys, who had
journeyed over by train, broke into the “long cheer.” A chorus of hoots
and jeers answered it.
There was ten minutes of practice, in the midst of which the Brewer
team trotted out and were wildly acclaimed by the spectators. They were
a heavy, husky lot of fellows, their ages ranging from seventeen to
twenty-five. Dan, who had retired to the side-line with Loring, Hill,
Gerard, Capes, Smith and Norton, saw Payson approach and shake hands
with a big, raw-boned, red-cheeked Irishman who was evidently McMannis,
the Brewer coach and trainer. Then the officials, one a Brewer man and
one from a neighboring city, walked onto the field. Mr. Austin was to
combine, by mutual consent, the duties of field judge and lineman.
A Yardley boy named Pearson held one end of the chain and a big,
stupid-looking Brewer mill-hand held the other. Colton won the toss and
selected the north goal and the kick-off fell to Brewer. At a minute or
two after three the game began.
There was a slow, steady wind blowing from the north-east and overhead
was a dull gray sky that threatened snow. The thermometer was hovering
around thirty-four and the big gray blankets in which Dan and the other
substitutes had enveloped themselves felt very grateful. Payson wore a
long frieze ulster of tobacco brown, a loose and generous garment that
made him look like a giant. Andy, in his loudly-striped trousers and
blue sweater, his legs well apart, stood guard over the water pail and
his canvas bag. There was a moment of nervous tension, while the Brewer
punter teed the ball, that even the substitutes felt. At the other
end of the field Yardley had spread out for the kick-off and Colton’s
voice came cheerily through the frosty air. Then the whistle blew and
up soared the ball. Down the field charged the Brewer men in their
red-and-white shirts and stockings. The ball settled after a high,
short flight into the arms of Hadlock and he made the best of ten yards
before he was downed.
Yardley’s line up at the beginning of the game was this: Left End,
Minturn; Left Tackle, Folwell; Left Guard, Hadlock; Center, Berwick;
Right Guard, Colton; Right Tackle, Mitchell; Right End, Dickenson;
Quarter-back, Clapp; Left Half-back, Capes; Right Half-back, Connor;
Full-back, Kapenhysen. There were four second-string men in the
line-up, although there were many who believed that Connor, who had
taken Capes’ place at left half-back, was the better man of the two and
would secure the position before the season was over. At left end there
was not much to choose between the absent Williams and the present
Minturn; neither of them was equal to Dickenson. Berwick at center was
distinctly inferior to Hill, while Clapp was not at all in the same
class with Loring.
For the first few minutes the ball changed hands constantly, Yardley
winning the advantage of territory on every exchange of punts. Brewer
was weak in this feature and Kapenhysen was quite at his best to-day.
Finally, with the ball on Brewer’s twenty-five yard line, Clapp tried
a quarter-back run and lost four yards by it, Minturn failing to block
his man.
“Why didn’t he try Dickenson’s end?” growled Loring on the side-line.
“He had all the room he wanted, the silly ass!”
Then, just when Brewer was expecting it, a forward pass was tried
and spoiled, the ball going to Brewer. Tired of being out-punted, the
red-and-white settled down to the game they knew best and plugged away
at the Yardley line for short gains. Twice they barely made first down,
and then Berwick suddenly weakened and the Brewer backs piled through
him for ten yards or more.
In the center of the field a fumble gave Yardley the ball again and
Clapp copied Brewer’s tactics. Kapenhysen made a short gain through
left tackle and Connor, on a quick plunge at center, captured first
down. Back to the thirty yard line went Yardley. Then Clapp engineered
for a position in front of goal and sent Capes around right end. But
Brewer was looking for this play, naturally enough, and Capes, fight as
hard as he might, was downed back of his line. It was third down and
Kapenhysen fell back for a try at placement. But Berwick passed high
and the ball just tipped the full-back’s fingers and went rolling off
up the field. Connor was quickly after it, but the Brewer right end got
by Minturn, shouldered Connor aside and fell on the ball with half the
field on top of him. On the side line Loring and Hill and the others
were muttering uncomplimentary things. Payson seemed quite unmoved
by the catastrophe, although for some time past he had been scowling
darkly. Brewer plunged away at the blue line again and found lots
of room between guard and guard. Colton and Hadlock played their own
positions and Berwick’s, but Brewer’s attack was savage and soon the
red-and-white was on Yardley’s twenty-five yards and directly in front
of her goal.
“I think I can see about four points coming to Brewer,” observed Smith
to Dan. But Dan shook his head.
“They won’t kick,” he said. “It isn’t their game. It’ll be a fake,
perhaps a forward pass but more likely a half-back run.”
And so it proved. Brewer formed as though for a placement kick, but the
ball slanted off to the right half-back and he went skimming around the
line. It was Minturn’s end again, and Minturn was caught napping. Five
yards, ten yards sped the runner, the field trailing after him. Then
Kapenhysen got him well over toward the side-line and it was first down
once more for Brewer with less than fifteen yards to go. Brewer tried
the center again, but this time Colton and Hadlock were desperate and
the attack was piled up for no gain. Then, on a cross-buck, Brewer’s
right-half attempted Yardley’s right end. But it was Dickenson this
time and not Minturn that he had to fool, and Dickenson refused to be
fooled. It was third down with eight yards to go.
“Well, it’s kick this time, all right,” said Smith. Payson, who had
paused nearby heard and turned his head, listening absently, his mind
on the next play.
“Bet you a nickel,” answered Dan. “They haven’t got a fellow who can
make a drop or kick from placement, or they’d have tried it before
when they were right in front. Now they’ve got a nasty angle and I bet
they’ll try a trick.”
Payson looked around at Dan.
“That’s right, Vinton,” he said. “But what kind of a trick, eh?”
Dan hesitated a moment, studying the situation. Then, “Fake kick
through center, sir,” answered Dan confidently. “That’s their sort
of game, sir. They know Berwick’s easy and they’ll slash a half-back
through there with the others behind him.”
Payson considered. On the field Brewer had drawn aside for a
consultation, one of her men having called for time.
“They need eight yards for a first,” muttered Payson, “and about
thirteen for a touchdown. Loring!”
Loring pushed forward and there was a brief exchange of words, ending
with Loring’s “Let me go in, sir!” which Dan overheard. But Payson
shook his head.
“Not yet,” he answered. “Vinton!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Go in for Minturn. Look sharp now! And if you have any suggestions--”
He pulled himself up. “Use your brains,” he added.
[Illustration: “‘Go in for Minturn.... Use your brains,’ he added.”]
Smith was already pulling Dan’s sweater over his head, and Dan’s heart
was thumping wildly. Then, with Loring’s pat on the shoulder speeding
him forward, he sped out onto the field. Already the teams were lining
up.
“All right, Brewer?” asked the referee.
“All right,” was the answer.
“All right, Yardley?”
“Wait!” cried Dan.
“Go ahead and play ball!” objected the Brewer captain.
“Substitute for left-end, sir,” panted Dan to the referee.
“Yes, with instructions,” jeered a Brewer lineman. “Send him off, Mr.
Referee; there’s nothing the matter with the left-end they’ve got in
now!”
“All right,” said the referee and Dan stepped over to Colton.
“Look out for a fake kick with a plunge at center, Colton,” he
whispered. “That’s what they’re up to.”
“I don’t think so,” Colton answered doubtfully.
“That’s their game, though,” answered Dan. “Payson sent me in and--”
“All right. Yes, you’re off, Minturn. No, no, run along like a good
chap.”
Minturn, scowling and resentful, took his departure.
“All ready now, Yardley?” asked the referee.
“All ready,” answered Colton. He gave a meaning glance at Hadlock. The
whistle blew. Dan passed the word to Capes as he went to his place at
left-end. There was a moment of indecision on the part of the Brewer
quarter. Then came the signals. Brewer was formed as for a drop-kick
at goal, the left-half standing back with outstretched hands and the
other backs ranged on either side as though to guard him. Back flew
the ball from center but it went on a side pass to right-half. Full
plunged forward and right half thrust the ball into his arms as he went
by and shot into the center of Yardley’s line. But Yardley had closed
up even as the ball was put in play, and instead of the open formation
usually found opposing a try at goal, with the forwards standing up
ready to break through and block, the Brewer full-back smashed into a
stone-wall, Berwick, Colton and Hadlock playing low and shutting the
line tight at the center. Although Brewer’s backs and tackles hurled
themselves behind their full-back and although presently the Yardley
line wavered under the attack and gave ground, two yards was the extent
of Brewer’s gain and the ball went to the Blue.
Kapenhysen fell back under his goal-posts and punted to the forty
yard-line. Once more Brewer started her march down the field, but this
time the advance was notably slower and more uncertain. Her players
were beginning to feel the pace and were longing for the sound of
the whistle. Two tries at the left of the opponents’ line netted her
six yards. Then a quarter-back kick was tried and Dan spoiled it by
piling the opposing end onto the turf. Connor captured the ball. Clapp
sent Capes around his own end for two yards, around the other end for
six and hurled Kapenhysen into the line for three more. Brewer was
weakening and her line gave time and again for short gains. Yardley
began a triumphal march up the field, tearing off five and once fifteen
yards around the ends and getting gains of two and three yards through
the left side of the red-and-white line. But there was a long way to
go and while the ball was still thirty yards from the goal line the
whistle blew and the half was over.