“ONLY THE CAPTAIN!”
The football training table was customarily formed about four days
after the beginning of the term. It was in reality two tables, at which
were gathered some twenty-two of the foremost candidates. Precedent
had established a hard-and-fast dietary, of which such articles as
underdone steaks and chops and roasts of beef formed the fixed basis.
Fresh bread was taboo, as was pastry and most other forms of dessert.
Eggs, certain cereals, milk and fresh vegetables and fruit formed the
balance of the menu. A patented preparation of grain took the place of
coffee. Usually by the time the season drew to an end you got so you
could drink the substitute without making a face. But before that time
you had become heartily sick of the monotony of the food and sighed
deeply for such health-destroying viands as baked macaroni, apple
pie, broiled ham, suet puddings and coffee――especially and constantly
coffee! Even the twice-a-week ice cream, observed enviously by the
neighboring tables, didn’t make up for the breaded veal cutlets or
hot rolls that passed with teasing fragrance but never stopped.
The training table necessitated what practically amounted to the
preparation of two meals in the school kitchen, a fact that doubtless
led the faculty to listen sympathetically to the suggestion of Mr.
Haynes. This suggestion reached the faculty by way of the Committee on
Athletics, popularly called the “Athletic Faculty,” and was submitted
with the committee’s entire approval. The suggestion was no less than
the abolishment of the training table. The first regular faculty
conference was held Thursday evening. Mr. Pierson, assistant instructor
in English and chairman of the Athletic Faculty, laid the matter before
the meeting and read the written argument by the new coach. Subject,
he stated, to the approval of the school faculty, the Committee on
Athletics proposed to give the plan a trial. After a discussion which,
considering the revolutionary character of the proposal, was extremely
brief, the faculty set the seal of its approval; without, you will
observe, consulting Captain Stuart Harven in the least.
In fact Stuart knew nothing of it until Friday forenoon, and then
learned of it in the most haphazard fashion. Wallace Towne, waiting
for H Room to empty so that he might attend a Latin class before he
had quite forgotten all he had learned overnight, caught Stuart in the
corridor of Manning. “See I was in the know about training table, Cap,”
he said. “I’m always there with the inside info. What do you think of
it? No more raw meat to make us savage. No more parched corn playing
coffee. Real food. Great, I say!”
“What are you jabbering about, Wally?” asked Stuart.
“Mean you don’t know?” Wallace looked incredulous. “Why, dearie,
faculty’s abolished the dear old training table! Give you my word! It’s
a thing of the past. Just like the dodo bird and the tandem play and――
All right, ask Jud McColl if you don’t believe me.”
“You’re crazy,” declared Stuart. But his words lacked conviction. “You
can’t build up a football team without a training table!”
“I can’t, no, but Hop Haynes can. Hop’s the Moses that’s going to lead
us through the Red Sea of dish gravy into the Pruneless Land. Say,
that’s good, what? Have to send that to the ‘Bull’!”
(He did, and _The Bulletin_ printed it, slightly elaborated, in the
Caught on the Campus column.)
Stuart reiterated his doubt of Wallace’s sanity and took himself into
Latin class, Wallace, still chuckling over his _bon mot_, following.
Stuart wasn’t easy in his mind, though, in spite of his expressed
contempt for Wallace’s information, and added nothing to his laurels
as a Latin scholar that morning. Oddly enough, Judson McColl was the
first fellow Stuart’s eyes fell on when the class was over. McColl was
Prominence personified. He was President of the recently formed Student
Council, President of Manning Society, Captain of the Hockey Team and,
with Stearns Wilson, represented the student body on the Athletic
Faculty. In spite of all these honors, however, McColl was simple,
likable and approachable. He expressed regretful surprise that Stuart
had been unaware of the proposed abolition of the training table.
“I supposed of course you knew, Stuart,” he said. “Mr. Haynes
introduced the proposal several days ago.”
McColl looked so puzzled that Stuart fancied his dignity in danger.
“Of course I heard something about it,” he replied defensively, “but I
didn’t know it had been brought up. Personally, I think it’s a crazy
scheme, Jud.”
“We-ell, I don’t know.” McColl pursed his lips. “Haynes made out a
strong case, Stuart. Of course, if it doesn’t work we’ll go back to the
old way. We thought there’d be no harm in giving it a trial, eh?”
Stuart shrugged. “Seems to me it would have been fairer to give the
players a voice in the matter,” he said.
“Don’t agree with you there,” replied McColl. “Things like that are up
to the Committee. Anyway, about all the football fellows I’ve talked
with are in favor of it.”
Stuart looked incredulous, but, having no data to base a contrary
assertion on, he let the statement pass unchallenged. Parting from
McColl, he went over to Meigs to unburden his mind to Jack. Jack,
of course would share his indignation. But neither Jack nor Stearns
Wilson, his roommate, was in, and Stuart went across to Lacey and spent
the period before dinner nursing his sense of injury. Neil had a class
and didn’t show up before the midday meal, and Stuart had sufficient
time and solitude to work up a very fair case against Coach Haynes and
the Athletic Faculty. Thinking things over, it struck him as peculiar,
if not suspicious, that Jack, who, since he roomed with Stearns Wilson,
must have known about the training table matter, hadn’t spoken of it to
him. Stuart uneasily wondered if Jack favored the absurd change. McColl
had said that many of the players did. Perhaps Jack was one of them
and, knowing Stuart’s position in the matter, had purposely avoided the
subject. Jack became grouped in Stuart’s mind with those others who had
conspired to bring about an iniquitous change by underhand methods.
He decided to see Coach Haynes immediately after dinner and speak his
mind. After all, Haynes was the chief culprit.
At dinner Stuart broached the matter to Leo Burns and Harry Beeman,
the only members of the squad at his table, and was pained, even
disgusted, to discover that they were heartily in favor of the change.
Beeman, who, as a first-string man and a veteran, should have had more
sense, was eloquent on the merits of the new plan, and Stuart retired
disgruntledly from the subject. The left guard made himself more
obnoxious by taking it for granted that his views were the captain’s.
Stuart’s hike to Coach Haynes’ quarters in the village after dinner
produced no satisfaction, for the coach wasn’t there. He waited
awhile, but Mr. Haynes didn’t come. Having to hurry back to school
under an ardent September sun so as not to be late for a half-past-one
recitation didn’t improve Stuart’s temper any. It was in the gymnasium
at three-thirty that he finally unburdened his mind. His arraignment
wasn’t nearly so harsh as he had intended it should be, for Mr. Haynes
was so palpably sincere in his regrets that Stuart had to pull in his
horns at the very beginning.
“I wouldn’t have had it happen for anything,” declared the coach
earnestly. “I was certain that I had spoken of the matter to you,
Captain Harven. I surely intended to. I went into it with quite a
number of the fellows, I know. So many things have come up the past
week, though, I’ve been so rushed and confused, that probably I failed
to consult you.”
“You certainly did,” replied Stuart stiffly. “And, naturally, I was
rather surprised this morning to learn that the matter had come up and
been decided.”
“I should say so!” Mr. Haynes was evidently grieved. “Of course you
should have been consulted, and I can’t see how I failed to bring it
up to you. You’re quite sure it wasn’t mentioned? There was that long
talk we had in your room one night――――”
“It wasn’t mentioned then, sir, nor at any other time. Perhaps I
wouldn’t mind so much if――if I approved, but I don’t, Mr. Haynes.”
“Really? By jove, I’m sorry to hear that! So many of the fellows
favored it, you see, Harven. No one I spoke to was against giving
the plan a trial. It isn’t an experiment, Harven, although it is new
here. We tried it out my last two years at Fisherville and it worked
splendidly. You couldn’t get one person there to-day to speak in favor
of the training table. We got far better results without it. We didn’t
lose a single game last year, and only one the year before. Three years
ago we lost four out of eight. That tells the story, doesn’t it?”
Stuart frowned, unconvinced. “How can you tell it was that, Mr. Haynes?
You might have done just the same with a training table, I’d say.”
“The condition of the fellows was better, Harven; thirty per cent
better at least. It isn’t rare beefsteak and thick cream and the rest
of the stereotyped training table diet that produces the best results.
I’ve seen teams spoiled by overeating time and again. Loading your
stomach with rich, heavy food is simply folly. It doesn’t make for
strength and energy, Harven. Plain food, plenty of it, but never too
much, is my belief.”
“If the fellows eat around at different tables, how are you going to
see that they eat what they should?”
“You don’t.” Mr. Haynes smiled. “They see to that themselves. It
doesn’t take them long to learn the lesson. Those who prefer to eat
what isn’t good for them to playing football are no loss to us. But
you’ll find there aren’t many such: perhaps one or two in a squad of
forty. It isn’t just a case of being put on honor, Harven; it’s a case
of using your common sense. If you don’t eat wisely you don’t keep
in condition, and if you aren’t in condition you don’t play on the
team. Just as soon as the fellows get that into their heads there’s no
trouble. The fare here is good enough and sufficient enough and varied
enough for any fellow to train on, Harven, and I’ll guarantee to show
you a better-conditioned squad by the first of November than Manning
ever saw here when training tables were used.”
“You couldn’t spoil the crowd we’ve got here this year no matter what
you fed them!” replied Stuart stubbornly.
“Oh, yes, you could! You’d only have to feed them on underdone beef
twice a day, and fill them with rich cream, and encourage them to eat
all they’d hold. I’ve seen it tried pretty often. I went through it
myself, too. I’ve been so logy after a dinner of that sort that it
was an effort to stretch my arms! Look here, Captain Harven, keep an
open mind on this question, won’t you? Just sit back and see how it
turns out. We both want to secure the best possible results this year,
and I think this is one way to do it. Don’t think that I’m simply
experimenting with the team, for I’m not. I’m convinced that this way
is the best. If I weren’t I wouldn’t consider it for a moment. I’m
mighty sorry that the thing went through without your cognizance, and I
certainly apologize for my share of the blame. But it has gone through,
and so, even if you don’t feel like giving it your full approval yet,
you’ll help me to make it go, won’t you?”
Stuart shrugged. “I don’t see how I could do anything else,” he
answered. “Only――well, I’ll wait and see. I’ve got to be shown, sir.”
“Quite right! We’ll leave it so. Now we’d better get out, eh?”
All during practice the conviction persisted in Stuart’s mind that,
in spite of Mr. Haynes’ smooth words something, as he phrased it to
himself, had been put over on him. He felt aggrieved, even humiliated,
and regretted that he hadn’t talked up to the coach harder than he
had. The trouble was, he reflected, that Mr. Haynes was so blamed
polite and plausible that you couldn’t talk the way you wanted to!
Instead of interfering with his work, however, Stuart’s grievance that
afternoon induced redoubled exertion, and he drove A squad so hard and
put so much vim and snap into his work that, in the twenty minutes of
scrimmaging, the veterans twice carried the ball nearly the length
of the field for a score. The Laird, hovering up and down the side
line, frowned dubiously. Such speed had no place on a gridiron where a
thermometer, had there been such a thing, would have registered around
seventy!
Going back to the gymnasium afterward, Stuart charged Jack with black
treachery. “You knew what was going on, didn’t you?” he demanded.
“Stearns must have talked about it. Why didn’t you say something to me?”
“Why, I thought you knew!” expostulated Jack. “Of course Stearns
mentioned it, but there wasn’t much talk. I knew you didn’t like the
scheme and I supposed you were putting up a fight.”
“It’s mighty funny,” growled the other. “Every fellow in school seems
to have known all about it except me! It’s the silliest stunt I ever
heard of! First thing we know Haynes’ll be springing a scheme to cut
out practice!”
“Well, he hasn’t shown any sign of it yet,” replied Jack dryly. “Looks
to me like he was a plaguey sight more likely to overwork us than
underwork us! We’ve had more hard practice in a week than we had last
fall in two weeks! And you’re as bad as he is. Looked like you were
trying to play us off our feet to-day!”
“Do you good,” muttered Stuart. “Are you in favor of no training table,
too?”
“Well, I don’t know,” said Jack cautiously. “I do think that we
sometimes ate too much last year. I’ve seen Joe Cutts get away with
two steaks and three baked potatoes, besides all the trimmings, at one
meal. And you’ll remember that half of us were no good at all for a
whole week in October last season. The Laird said we’d been eating too
many eggs and too much milk.”
“Well, we won, didn’t we? A touch of biliousness is nothing. You can’t
keep thirty-odd fellows in perfect trim every day for two months. That
stands to reason. Eating too much doesn’t help, of course, but eating
the wrong sort of stuff is worse. And that’s what a lot of chaps will
do when there’s no one to look after them. Haynes says it worked fine
at Fisherville, but Fisherville isn’t Manning. Besides, they always
take mighty good pains at Fisherville to take on only teams they know
they can lick!”
“I guess it isn’t that bad,” laughed Jack. “You don’t like Fisherville;
that’s your trouble. The truth is, though, that Fisherville turned out
just about the best and smoothest team in this part of the country last
fall, and you can’t get around that, old chap.”
“We’d have beaten her if she’d given us a chance,” growled Stuart.
“They’re mighty careful not to give us a game.”
“Haynes said the other day he would arrange a game next season.”
“He may think so,” answered Stuart pessimistically, “but Fisherville
will find an excuse. You wait and see.”
Later, Stuart sought sympathy from Neil and, after a fashion,
got it. Neil agreed that Stuart should have been consulted in the
matter; agreed, too, that doing away with the training table was most
unfortunate if Stuart’s forebodings should prove justified. “Maybe,
though, Mr. Haynes meant to consult you, as he says he did,” continued
Neil. “I guess he has had a good deal to think about since he took
hold, eh? It’s all pretty new to him, Stuart. It was decent of him to
apologize.”
“What’s the good of his apology?” demanded the other impatiently.
“Whether he meant to consult me or not, he didn’t, and it makes me
feel rather small, naturally. I’m captain of the team, and I ought to
have a little say in its affairs. It doesn’t look as if I were going
to, though! Haynes has the Athletic Faculty with him, and can do as he
likes, I guess. I should think either Jud or Stearns might have asked
my opinion before buckling under to him. They’re supposed to look after
the interests of the fellows, but all they think about is pleasing
Haynes.”
Neil let that pass without comment. After a moment he asked: “Do you
really think it will work badly, Stuart, this new plan?”
“Oh, I don’t know. But what’s the good of it? We got along all right
before, didn’t we? Why does he have to come and upset things?
Faculty’s crazy to give in to him this way, too.”
“Well, let’s wait and see how it turns out,” advised Neil. “Mr. Haynes
must think he’s right, or he wouldn’t advocate it. If he’s wrong, of
course they’ll go back to the training table again. Just don’t let it
upset you, Stuart. That’s the main thing. Steady on, eh?”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter about me,” muttered Stuart ironically. “I’m only
the captain!”