DEFEAT
No one learned of that conversation in the coach’s quarters but Neil.
And Neil, although he said little, was, in Stuart’s opinion, none too
sympathetic. Which, of course, means that Neil didn’t approve of his
chum’s course and couldn’t conceal the fact. Stuart was sensible of a
slight disappointment in Neil this fall. The latter didn’t seem nearly
so sympathetic as last year, he thought. Somewhat moodily he listened
to Neil’s plea for concord and patience, at last replying rather
testily:
“Don’t worry. I know where I stand and I’m going to take my medicine.
Haynes has the upper hand and, short of taking the matter to the Ath.
Fac., there’s nothing I can do. And I guess the Ath. Fac., would back
Haynes against me, as far as that goes. He’s being paid a salary for
his job, and I’m not. They’d do as he said if only to get their money’s
worth. As for Le Gette――――”
He stopped, and Neil said anxiously: “Better forget all about him,
Stuart. There’s nothing you can do, anyhow!”
“There’s plenty I _can_ do,” answered the other grimly, “but I’m not
going to. Haynes is right about one thing, and I’m fair enough to say
so. The team’s success is the main consideration. I’ll work as hard for
that as he will, confound him!”
To Stuart’s credit it may be said that he honestly meant that and
earnestly tried to live up to the promise. If he didn’t wholly succeed
it was not for lack of good intention. Between him and Le Gette ensued
a period of armed neutrality. Stuart heroically resisted the temptation
to tell Le Gette what he thought of him, promising himself, however,
the pleasure of doing so after Pearsall had been disposed of. It was
in his power to make Le Gette’s path to the first team more difficult
of travel, perhaps, by underhand machinations, to keep him off it
entirely, but he had no thought of that. At work they spoke when they
had to. At other times they passed without greetings. Jack riled Stuart
one day by declaring that Le Gette seemed to him to be rather a decent
chap. “Of course I don’t know him,” he added. “I’m only judging by
what I’ve seen of him at the field.”
“You know what he did to Neil, don’t you?” asked Stuart hotly.
“Y-yes, but――well, honestly, Stuart, I’ve always thought there might
have been a mistake there.”
“There was,” replied the other dryly, “and he’ll find it out some day!”
On the seventh, Manning defeated Wentworth, 7 to 0, in a close,
well-played contest, and there began to be talk of getting through
the season without being scored against. A week later such talk
ended abruptly. On the Tuesday succeeding the Wentworth game the
Cherry-and-Gray met her first misfortune. Leo Burns, already picked as
the likeliest of the halfbacks, sprained his ankle in practice. It was
a bad sprain, with no chance of recovery in time for the Walsenburg
game, and Stuart’s confidence in the team’s ability to win that contest
had a setback. Of course it was no life-or-death matter, but he wanted
that game very much. Walsenburg was a stout adversary who had thrown
several scares into Manning during the last few years, but had beaten
her but once. Stuart knew that Walsenburg was thirsting for Manning
blood and even suspected her of duplicity in securing an early date.
Also, there existed a slight feeling of rivalry between him and the
Walsenburg quarter. All in all, Stuart would rather have won that
contest than any other on the schedule, with, of course, the exception
of the big game with Pearsall. He tentatively mentioned splints and
bandages to The Laird, but The Laird was emphatically opposed to taking
chances.
“He’d be little use, Cap, in the game,” he declared, “and if he was
hurt again he’d be out for the season. Yes, I know he’s keen for
playing, but there’s other games coming and we’ll need him worse than
we’ll need him next Saturday.”
“There isn’t any game coming, except Pearsall, that I’d rather win,”
replied Stuart dejectedly.
“Nor me,” agreed the trainer. “They’re a hard, corky bunch of lads, but
maybe we’ll down them just the same.”
“That’s likely, with Haynes making no effort for them,” said Stuart
bitterly. “He isn’t even giving us a new play! We’ll have to face them
with the same stuff we had last year, and they’ll eat it up, Laird!”
Nevertheless, Stuart hadn’t given up all hope, for even though Coach
Haynes had decided to make no special preparations for Walsenburg,
he knew that there was a strong sentiment among the players in favor
of beating the rival at almost any cost, and he was relying on that
sentiment to pull the team through. It was evident as early as the
first of that week that no help was to be expected from Mr. Haynes. He
had more than once declared himself against disturbing the early season
progress of the team for the purpose of beating an opponent. “We’ll
take them in our stride,” was his way of expressing it. There was not
a little criticism and some grumbling from the veterans, but the new
coach had by now pretty firmly established himself in their favor, and
openly expressed opposition to his decision was lacking.
Ernest Lowe took Burns’ place at left half and practice went on
methodically until Friday. On Friday evening Coach Haynes did call a
session in the gymnasium and gave them nearly an hour of floor practice
on formations and some ten minutes of good advice, but that was the
extent of his concessions. And the next day, when the line-up was made
known, he had, at least in the judgment of most, neutralized that by
putting Steve Le Gette in at right tackle in place of Ned Thurston. Le
Gette had been playing a good game as substitute, and Thurston had, it
was true, been under his form since the Wentworth contest, but those
who knew “Thirsty” were convinced of his ability to come back and were
far from pleased with the change. Stuart closed his lips very tight and
said nothing when the list was read, but on the way to the field he
confided to Jack bitterly that “Walsenburg ought to lick us, with our
own coach doing all he can to help her!”
From a Manning viewpoint the game left much to be desired. Looking at
it from the Walsenburg side of the field, it was a corker! Walsenburg’s
players were probably no better individually than the opponent’s,
but collectively they were just as much better as the final score
proclaimed them: and the final score was 13 to 6.
Walsenburg had developed team play to a remarkable point, considering
the time of year. Sticking to quite simple plays, starting from a
three-abreast formation, Walsenburg relied on speed, weight and
smoothness of operation to win. The Cherry-and-Gray was put on the
defensive early in the first quarter and kept there until the half
was over, while the enemy twice rushed her way to the home team’s
threshold, the first time losing the ball on downs on the eight yards
and the second time plunging across the line for a touchdown that was
followed by a goal. In the third quarter Manning staged a come-back,
and securing the pigskin on her own twenty-two yards she mingled two
forward-passes with an end-running attack that, aided by a penalty for
holding, placed her within scoring distance of the adversary’s goal.
After that it was only grim determination that enabled her to put
the ball over, for her plays, none of them new, were “old stuff” to
Walsenburg and were as often stopped behind the line as beyond it. It
was individual brilliancy versus team play, with the odds all in favor
of the latter, and yet for once the probabilities were upset, for,
from the visitor’s twenty-seven to her six, big, calm-eyed “Howdy”
Tasker, at fullback, smashed his way in four attempts, once plunging
for five yards outside left tackle quite on his own, the interference
having been nailed in its tracks. From the six, Manning ground down the
defense by concentrating on the Walsenburg right guard, throwing Tasker
and Hanson at him, and then Tasker again, and gaining a yard, a yard
and a half and another yard. On fourth down slightly over six feet of
trampled turf remained to be conquered, and, with Manning imploring
from the stand, Tasker again hurled himself at Walsenburg’s right guard
and Stuart, the ball snuggled to his stomach, shot off to the right,
head down, and plunged some how through the mêlée until, falling, his
hands held the pigskin just over the last white line.
Stuart failed at goal by less than the width of the ball and Manning
groaned dismay and sorrow, for at this stage of the contest it seemed
that the home team might hold the enemy from further scoring. But,
although Walsenburg appeared content to mark time for the rest of the
period, in the last quarter she again showed her power. Tasker’s weak
punt from his thirty-five to midfield gave the adversary her chance
and she set herself to the task with new energy. She had freshened
her backfield with a pair of substitute halfs and began a ferocious,
remorseless hammering of the Manning right side. Towne was worn down
and gave way to Baker, and Le Gette, who had performed creditably
at right tackle, was replaced by Thurston. But the enemy had almost
gained his objective by that time and was ready to shift his attack. A
crafty forward-pass, as well performed as it was unexpected, placed the
ball on the home team’s seventeen yards for first down. A fake place
kick developed into a quarterback run around left end, and, although
Stuart brought down his rival well across the field, the pigskin was
four yards closer to the goal line. From the thirteen yards Walsenburg
reached the five in three plunges through a weakening line. There
Manning braced and wrenched the ball from the enemy by inches and
Tasker punted from behind his line. But again the ball went short and a
Walsenburg halfback caught on Manning’s twenty-three and dodged back to
the fourteen.
Tasker and Lowe were taken out and fresh backs sent in. Cutts, at
center, was also replaced. But Walsenburg was not to be denied. A
double pass fooled Manning badly, three plunges at the new center
yielded gains and once more the enemy was inside the five-yard line.
The Cherry-and-Gray cohorts hoarsely pounded out their slogan of
“_Hold, Manning! Hold, Manning!_” but Manning was a played-out team now
and there was little glory for the visitor in her final triumph. Two
plays took the pigskin across, the second through a hole big enough
for a push-cart to pass and Manning tasted the bitterness of defeat.
That game, though it ended in disaster for Manning, was, after all,
nothing to hang one’s head over. Against a far-better developed team,
the Cherry-and-Gray had fought desperately and often heroically, and
this fact, when the first sting of disappointment had worn off, was
recognized by the school. In fact, the _Bulletin_, the school weekly,
was quite epic in its editorial the following Thursday, and likened the
battle to Thermopylae, and the home team to Greek heroes. It praised
Captain Harven highly for his generalship and individual playing, which
praise was certainly well deserved, and it spoke in glowing measure of
several others: Tasker and Towne and Cutts and Whaley; and even dripped
honeyed words on Le Gette. Perhaps the _Bulletin_ overdid it somewhat,
but it meant well.
One person who appeared neither depressed or elated over the result of
the Walsenburg contest was Coach Haynes. He placed criticism where it
was merited and commendation where deserved, and set his face toward
the Forest Hill game with no sign of disturbance on it. He seemed quite
satisfied and, certainly, voiced no regrets.
But Stuart took that defeat badly. Perhaps without realizing it, he had
half believed the optimists who had a week before bravely predicted
a clean slate for the season. I don’t think he allowed his hopes to
dwell on the possibility of the team getting through without being
scored on: that was less a possibility than an impossibility, but
he had dared hope for a season of no defeats. He believed, and was
justified in believing, that had Coach Haynes given the team even three
days of preparation for the Walsenburg contest it might at least have
emerged from it with a tied score. He had no sympathy for the coach’s
contention that a defeat was sometimes good medicine. At least, he
didn’t believe that true of a team of which he was captain. It might be
so other years.
Stuart’s dissatisfaction was increased by the reflection that, so far
as public opinion was concerned, he had failed to show any superiority
over the rival quarterback. Naturally, since the other had played on
the winning side, his work appeared more brilliant. Stuart tried to
comfort himself with the assurance that, man for man, he had shown a
little more than the Walsenburg quarter, but, lacking the confirmation
of public opinion, that assurance didn’t make him happy. He laid
his failure to win the decision over his rival to Mr. Haynes, thus
increasing by just so much more his account against the coach.
Stuart spoke his mind very freely to all save Mr. Haynes. Between him
and the coach there existed an armistice, respectful, but no more.
Stuart avoided private converse with the other, and at the conferences,
held twice, occasionally thrice, a week in the coach’s quarters, he
maintained an aloof attitude that, while it had no apparent disturbing
effect on Mr. Haynes, created a disquieting atmosphere of which the
others were dimly aware. It is doubtful if Stuart realized how evident
his antagonism was; doubtful, too, if, had he realized it, he could
have disguised it, for his resentment still burned very deeply. Stuart
took his grievance to the players and found sympathetic ears. Most of
the fellows held that it would not have hurt the progress of the team
if the coach had allowed them to take or tie the Walsenburg game, and a
few still nursed dissatisfaction as late as the following Monday. Most
of them, however, were willing to let bygones be bygones by then, and
were inclined to be bored when Stuart reverted to the subject. They
liked Stuart, were proud of him as a captain, credited him with the
brilliance as a player which he thoroughly deserved, but when it came
to a question of leadership they preferred to put their trust in Hop
Haynes. Stuart was all right, but――well, he was liable to fly off the
handle if any one tried to interfere with his methods or question his
opinions, and, after all, a football team needed a steady hand on the
lines. That was the general opinion among the fellows, although there
remained a handful whose personal allegiance to Stuart would have stood
them up in front of a firing squad at sunrise if he had led the way.
Among the latter was Jack Brewton. Jack however, was not ignorant of
his friend’s shortcomings. Rather, he realized them very thoroughly and
put his faith in Stuart in spite of them. While he would have stepped
at once to Stuart’s side and had an actual breach between captain and
coach transpired, he would have gone with his eyes open, and while he
was sympathetic toward his friend’s feelings he did not hesitate to say
what he honestly thought, as, on Monday.
“It would have been bully to win that game, Stuart, but Haynes is the
Big Boss, you know, and his business is training football teams. He
evidently thought it would be better not to put out the effort, and
it’s only fair to assume that he was right. The school’s paying him
real money for what he’s doing and all we can do is believe that he’s
worth his salary; at least until he shows he isn’t. And if we believe
that, we’ve got to believe he was right about Saturday’s game. Q. E.
D., or words to that effect.”
“Because you pay a coach a salary it doesn’t signify that he’s got all
the wisdom of Solomon or Walter Camp,” objected Stuart. “We could have
trained a week to meet Walsenburg and still been ready for Forest Hill
next Saturday. Forest Hill isn’t dangerous; and even if she were, any
of us would rather have lost to her than to Walsenburg. Haynes has got
you fellows hypnotized. All he has to do is strike an attitude and look
wise and you all say ‘A-ah!’”
Jack threw an arm over Stuart’s shoulders and shook him gently.
“Listen, old thing, you’re heading for trouble, and I wish you
wouldn’t. Just forget your grouch against Haynes and see how things
turn out. If he hands us a victory over Pearsall you’ll be one of the
first to forgive and forget. Better do it now and make that victory
more certain. Some of the fellows are talking already. They say you
don’t care what happens to the team so long as you can make faces at
Haynes. Of course that isn’t so. The old crowd understands, but there’s
a bunch of new chaps around who are getting gabby. Now, wipe off the
slate, Stuart, and start over. We’re all after success for the team.
Just let’s think of that and nothing else.”
“Oh, all right.” Stuart was silent a moment. Then he added: “It’s easy
enough for you chaps, but――but I’m captain! Hang it, what’s the good of
having a captain if he hasn’t any more authority than a third string
substitute? Since the season started I haven’t had a voice in one
single decision that’s been made! I’m sick of it, I tell you! For two
cents I’d throw it up! I would, by gosh!”
“Oh, no, you wouldn’t,” said Jack soothingly. “You’re not the sort to
desert under fire, old man. Come on and I’ll play you fifty points at
billiards before math.”
Stuart allowed himself to be dragged to Meigs where, perhaps not
without some connivance on Jack’s part, he ran out twelve points to the
good.
After three weeks of trial, the plan of doing without the training
table appeared to be a success. At first some of the new candidates
took advantage of their freedom and ate not wisely but too well, but
they soon discovered that it didn’t work. The Laird had an eagle’s eye
for physical condition, and when a warning wasn’t sufficient a day or
two on the bench――and a four-lap jog of the track――brought the offender
around. Even Stuart was obliged to confess that the new plan was
working satisfactorily, although he made the confession without great
enthusiasm and only to The Laird. He and The Laird were very close
friends, and he could make admissions of this sort to him.
A week of hard practice followed the Walsenburg game and then Manning
met Forest Hill School and won decisively, 27 to 3, and the season was
half over.