STUART SPEAKS HIS MIND
Ten to ten!
A tied score and victory for neither team!
When the outburst that acclaimed Le Gette’s goal had finally died down
a strange silence descended over the stands. Near midfield the teams
were cheering each other, but the cheers sounded faint and perfunctory.
The groups broke up and the players turned toward the benches and
then, mingling with the throng, hurried off the field. The cheering
section on the Manning side found its voice and broke into measured
sound; a long cheer for the Team, a regular cheer for Pearsall――“and
make it good!”――and another long cheer for Manning. The remnants of the
Pearsall cheering section returned the compliment, and then the stands
emptied.
It was a very quiet throng that flowed over the turf toward the
campus. There is something woefully flat about a tied football game,
and speculation and argument as to what might have happened bring
small comfort. Many of the visitors felt cheated because there had
been no subsequent spectacle, no snake dance with caps and brightly
hued megaphones tossing over the crossbars, no triumphant cheering
and singing. Some departed firm in the conviction that that amusement
should have been provided for them irrespective of the game’s outcome!
In the gymnasium there was plenty of talk, but it flowed levelly, with
no crescendos. Many remarks began with “If” and “But” and ended in
the air. The general atmosphere was one of resentment rather than of
regret, as though Fate had played a sorry trick. Later on, perspective
came to the aid and a more philosophic mood prevailed, but just now
there were moody faces aplenty in the locker room. Outside, the fellows
were gathered before the entrance responding faithfully to Stearns
Wilson’s every demand. Players and substitutes, coaches and managers,
trainer and assistants were cheered loudly, but the sound, booming down
to the wearied warriors, failed to dispel their gloom.
At supper time the entrance of every football fellow was, as usual,
warmly applauded, and cheerfulness was more apparent. Stuart, coming
in a few minutes late, with Neil, was met with a salvo such as had
been accorded only Jack Brewton. Stuart, drawing his chair out, looked
back to see who had followed him into the hall, and was surprised
to discover that the long-continued chorus of “A-a-ay!” was in his
honor. He felt an odd sense of pleasant confusion and tried to hide it
by drinking from an empty water glass. A crowd that included Stuart
and Jack and Neil invaded the moving picture house after supper and,
finding a really humorous comedy to laugh at, returned to school in
better spirits.
But in Stuart’s case the spirits didn’t outlast the night, and when he
awoke nearly an hour before he needed to on Sunday morning and found
the world gray and soggy under a drizzling rain he became horribly
depressed. He couldn’t get to sleep again, but lay listening to the
patter of the drops on the window ledge and faced a blank future. There
didn’t seem to be anything to get up for! Nothing this morning nor any
other morning! Life looked frightfully drab and dull. No more football!
Nothing ahead but lessons! He groaned and pulled a sheet over his head.
Of course, he might go in for basketball. That was pretty good fun.
Or hockey. Either one would at least keep him in training. But for
what? More basketball or hockey! Just now he was in a martyrlike mood
and told himself that he’d never try football again; anyhow, not at
Manning. He had made a dismal failure of it and self-respect at least
forbade his going back to it. They’d elect Howdy Tasker captain next
Saturday evening, probably. Well, Howdy was all right, but he had had
enough of working under some one else. And Haynes would be coaching
again, he supposed. Well, Haynes had been pretty decent lately, he’d
say that, but if he went back to the team next year there’d be the
same old rows! No, he was through with football; plumb, everlastingly
through!
Neil awoke with a prodigious yawn and a backward stretch that knocked
his knuckles resoundingly against the wall. Neil always awoke that way.
Then he sat up and, as Stuart thrust the sheets from his face, blinked
across smilingly. “Hello,” he said. “What time is it?”
“About a quarter to eight,” answered Stuart morosely. “Go to sleep
again.”
“I’m slept out. Gee, it’s raining, isn’t it?”
“No, some fellow’s cleaning his teeth out the window,” said Stuart
sarcastically. Neil brushed the remaining sleep from his eyes and
studied his roommate for a moment in silence. Then:
“Whence the grouch, son?” he asked sympathetically.
“Oh, what’s the good?” asked the other vaguely. “Nothing to look
forward to now but just a lot of beastly studying!”
“Cheer up, Christmas vacation’s only a month away!”
“We-ell,” acknowledged Stuart grudgingly. Then, with triumphant
pessimism: “And after vacation come exams!”
Neil laughed. “I guess you’re beyond human aid this morning! Been awake
long?”
“Half an hour, I suppose. I’ve been thinking.”
“That explains it. Thinking always did have a bad effect on you,
Stuart. What have you been thinking about?”
“Lots of things. About football, for one. I’m going to quit.”
“Why not? The season’s over.”
Stuart scowled. “I mean for good. I’m through.”
Neil digested that startling information a moment. Then he asked
carelessly: “Did it ever occur to you that you might be elected captain
again?”
“_Me?_” Stuart stared across incredulously. “You’re crazy! Not a
chance! Anyhow, I wouldn’t accept!”
“Wouldn’t you? Why?”
“You know why,” replied Stuart shortly. “After what happened this year,
do you think I’d――I’d―――― Anyway, they wouldn’t want me for captain.
And I don’t blame ’em. It’ll be Howdy, I guess. He’ll make a good one,
too.”
“Yes, I think he would,” agreed Neil. But there was a suggestion of
reservation in his tone that caused Stuart to view him suspiciously.
“Look here,” he charged, “for the love of Mike, don’t go around making
cracks like that, Neil!”
“Like what?” asked the other innocently.
“Why, about me being captain next year! Think I want fellows to think
that――that I’m looking for it――or would take it if it was offered?
Well, by golly, I don’t! That would be the limit!”
“All right, I won’t mention it. Suppose, though, some one else
suggested it? Want me to say officially that you’d refuse?”
“Yes, I do! You say it as officially as you know how. But I guess no
one but you would ever think of it, you crazy coot!”
“Well, that’s that,” replied Neil. “Let’s get up and have a good shower
before the gang takes possession.”
“I don’t want any shower,” grumbled Stuart.
Nevertheless, he followed Neil out of bed and down the hall, and
presently he might have been heard whistling a football tune quite
cheerfully above the hiss of the water.
After breakfast, at which meal he consumed rather more food than for
many weeks past, the feeling of depression took possession of him
once more, and it was not until the sermon was nearly finished that
a possible explanation came to him. The explanation held just six
letters: H-a-y-n-e-s! His thoughts went back to a conversation held
long before in the coach’s room, especially to the closing words of
that conversation. “When the season’s over I’m going to give myself
the satisfaction of telling you just what I think of you!” “When the
season’s over I’ll be ready to hear it!” Stuart, remembering, squirmed
in his seat. The season was over and the time had come.
Stuart didn’t hear any more of the sermon, if he had heard any before.
When dinner was done and he and Neil were back in the room he mooned
restlessly around for awhile and then took up his cap. “I’m going out
for a bit,” he explained carelessly.
“Want me to come along?” asked Neil, looking up from the letter he was
writing.
“No, don’t bother,” answered Stuart hurriedly. “I won’t be long.
I――I’ll just mosey around. Maybe walk over to the village or somewhere.
Back soon.”
Neil nodded. “Better take an umbrella. It’s pouring now.”
But Stuart chose a raincoat instead and took himself off, leaving Neil
to gaze reflectively at the closed door and tap the end of his pen
thoughtfully against his teeth.
Stuart wasn’t sure that Mr. Haynes was in town. He might, for all he
knew, have hurried off home by this time. If he had done so, Stuart
would be a whole lot relieved. At least, that’s what he told himself,
only to retract it a minute later. He had something to say to the
coach, something that had to be said sooner or later, and it would be a
heap better to say it now and get it off his chest!
Mr. Haynes answered the door himself when Stuart had rung, Mr. Haynes
in a faded blue dressing gown and slippers, a section of a morning
paper in his hand. He didn’t seem at all surprised to find Stuart on
the threshold, a fact proved by his greeting. “Hello, Harven,” he said
cordially. “Come in. Throw your coat over the chair there. Rather a wet
day, isn’t it? I expected you’d be over.”
Stuart preceded his host into the dim study and took one of the two
chairs drawn close to the long windows. The little park before the
house was dismal and sodden to-day. Mr. Haynes plowed his way through
a litter of papers and sank into the opposite chair rescuing his pipe
from the ash tray and reaching for his pouch.
“The Courant has a pretty good story of the game,” he said as he
filled the bowl. “Have you read it?” Stuart nodded. “Gives you a lot
of credit, Harven, but no more than you deserve. The way you drove the
team in the first quarter was as nice a thing as I ever saw. I dare say
you’ve wondered why I didn’t put you back in the second half, Harven.”
“No, sir, I haven’t. You said it would be Wheaton.”
The coach nodded. “Yes, I said that, but after your showing――” He
paused and lighted his pipe. “I’m going to be honest. You ought to have
gone back, Harven. I believe now that if you had gone back we might
have won. I made a mistake. You see, Wheaton had worked mighty hard,
fairly sweated for us for weeks, and I thought he deserved his reward.
It doesn’t do, though, if you’re a coach, to let sentiment get at you.
I ought to have known better. Well, it’s too late now. Of course, we
might not have won, even if you had been in, but I shall always be
bothered by the possibility. We put up a good game, though, and in
several ways showed up better than Pearsall. For one thing, we were in
better condition. And we have more ground gained to our credit. On the
whole, Harven, we haven’t any cause to be sore over that game. We faced
a good team, a better team than I’d suspected, and if we didn’t outplay
them we came mighty close to doing it!”
“Yes, sir.” Stuart studied his hands a moment. Then, “When it comes to
placing the blame for losing――for not winning, though――” he went on,
“I guess I’ve got a good deal to do with that, Mr. Haynes. I guess if
I hadn’t acted crazy and made things harder for you and thrown up my
job――not that Jack wasn’t a mighty good captain, though: I don’t mean
that, sir! But if things had gone smoother at the first――――”
“I know, Harven. Between us we sort of botched the business, didn’t we?
It wasn’t altogether your fault. Knowing you as I do now, I see that
I was half to blame. I got a wrong impression of you when I took hold
here. My mistake was in not trying to make a friend of you first of
all. You didn’t give me much encouragement, but I should have tried.
You see, Harven, I’ve learned since then that you are hard to drive
but easily led. And you’re loyal. I tried to drive you. That was my
first mistake, and maybe my biggest. I should have set out to win your
friendship. I might not have succeeded, of course, but I should have
tried.”
“I――I guess you would have,” muttered Stuart.
“Succeeded?” Mr. Haynes smiled. “Hang it, Harven, I almost believe I
could have! Anyway, I like to think so.”
“Just the same, there’s no reason for you to take any of the blame,
Mr. Haynes,” said Stuart. “I thought I knew it all, and I didn’t. The
fellows oughtn’t to have made me captain. I didn’t have the head for
it. That’s been proved twice over. I showed rotten judgment lots of
times. It was a good thing for the team that I was chucked.”
“You weren’t chucked,” said the coach earnestly. “No one――I, least of
all――wanted you to resign. That letter to you was badly conceived and
badly written. All any one wanted was to get things running smoothly,
but the Committee went about it the wrong way. When you offered your
resignation I protested against its acceptance. So did Wilson and
McColl. But the majority of the Committee were against us. The majority
had put themselves in a hole, and rather than crawl out they pulled
the hole in on top of ’em. I felt all along that if you and I could
pull together we could go a long way, Harven, but I didn’t know how to
manage you. Well, all that’s ancient history now. There were mistakes
made on both sides, mistakes that aren’t likely to be made again, I
guess. Because, Harven, you’ve got good sense and you’re fair, and
you know that I was right about the two things that caused the most
friction between us. I mean the abolishment of training table and the
injustice of barring Le Gette from the team because of something he had
done to offend you personally. I made plenty of mistakes, but on those
two things I was right. Isn’t that so?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Stuart honestly. “The fellows were in better shape
this year than they were last. There wasn’t any slump this year, and
last year there was. And about Le Gette, why, he――I found out just the
other day that he didn’t do what I thought he did.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” replied the coach heartily. “And even if he had,
Harven, I still would have been right in not sacrificing him to your
personal animosity. Don’t you agree with me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good! I’m not ‘rubbing it in,’ Harven. I’m not always right in my
premises and judgments, any more than any one else is, but I wanted
to know that you recognized that in those things I was right and that
you were fair enough and frank enough to say so. Because if it should
happen that we were to work together again next fall it would make
it easier for both of us. Perhaps I haven’t expressed myself very
clearly, but I guess you get what I’m driving at.”
“Yes, sir. But I don’t believe I’ll be playing next year.”
“What? Why not?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” answered Stuart vaguely.
“Well, I certainly hope you will. If I came back I’d surely need you.”
“But you _are_ coming, aren’t you, sir?” asked Stuart.
“I can’t say. You see, I was engaged for this season only. Although it
wasn’t set down in the contract, it was naturally understood that a
renewal of the contract depended on my success with the team this fall.
Well, I don’t know how the Committee on Athletics view the result. In
some ways we had a good season. We won five games, lost two and tied
one. We got through without injuries worth speaking of, although the
credit for that isn’t mine. If we had won yesterday’s game I might
fairly claim success. Between you and me, I still claim it. But the
Committee may not look at it as I do. Results are what count, Harven,
and there’s no getting around the fact that we didn’t win our big
game.”
“Oh! But we didn’t lose it, either, sir. That ought to mean something,
I’d say. Besides, I guess all the fellows think that you did mighty
well. I do, anyway. I thought, of course, you were coming back.”
“Perhaps I shall,” replied the coach, smiling.
“Not that you’d care much, I suppose,” added Stuart. “I guess you
wouldn’t have much trouble finding a job!”
“Perhaps not, but it doesn’t do a coach any good to change too often.
I’ve been at it four seasons and this is my third place. That doesn’t
sound very well, does it? I was at Erskine College the year after I
graduated and then I went to Fisherville and stayed two. I left there
because Manning offered me more money, and I needed it. I don’t expect
to spend my life as a football coach, Harven, but while I’m at it I
want to do the best I can. I’ve got a sort of a law practice back home,
but it’s only the start of one, and I can’t afford to depend on it yet.
You see, there’s a family at home, too, and they have to live.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you were married, sir!”
“I’m not. The family consists of my mother and two sisters, unmarried.
One of my sisters looks after the office while I’m away, but there
isn’t much to do, unfortunately. My town’s a smallish one and there
are two lawyers already established there. It’s slow work to build a
practice, Harven, in a place like that.”
“I should think it would be,” mused Stuart. “I think I’d rather coach
football than be a lawyer, anyway.”
“It doesn’t lead very far, though. I hope that I’ll be in a position to
drop it after another two years. Meanwhile, I’d rather stay here than
look for a new place. Next year ought to see a whale of a team here.
Look at the material we’ll have: you and Hanson and Thurston and Burns
and Tasker――no end of good players. Why, we can start with practically
a veteran team! And we’ve laid a good foundation this fall, Harven:
we’ve got a system at work. Whoever has the job of coaching next fall
will have a cinch!”
“You bet! We’ve got some corking second-string fellows, too, Mr.
Haynes: Lowe and Leonard and――and Thompson――”
“And Irmo. He has the making of a fine center. And we’d be pretty well
fixed for guards with Beeman and Le Gette. Le Gette played a fine game
yesterday. And if it hadn’t been for his field goal we’d have lost. I
want you to know, Harven, that I certainly appreciate the work you did
with Le Gette. I don’t believe another chap on the squad could have
taught him what you did in that short time.”
“He was a mighty good learner,” said Stuart warmly. “You simply
couldn’t tire him! Lots of times I’d want to quit and he’d keep me at
it. With Le Gette kicking field goals next year we’d ought to be pretty
well fixed.”
“Yes, but I’m hoping you’ll share that duty with him,” said the coach.
“Well, I don’t know,” murmured Stuart. “If you don’t come back――――”
He stopped suddenly and felt the blood creeping into his cheeks and, to
hide his hideous embarrassment, jumped to his feet.
“I must be getting back,” he said. “Neil will think I’m lost or――or
something!”
“Must you? Well, I’m glad you dropped in. Do it again before I go,
won’t you? I’m sticking around until the last of the week. Oh, by the
way,” he continued as they shook hands, “wasn’t there something you
wanted to say to me after the season was over?”
Stuart caught the kindly quizzical gleam in the other’s eyes and
grinned sheepishly.
“I――I guess I’ve said it,” he muttered.