THE PLAYER WHO BLUNDERED.
The elation of the Oakdale players over making a touchdown and goal in
the first quarter was quickly subdued by their captain, who, in the
privacy of the gym, sternly informed them that they should have done
much better.
“It was a lucky stab, nothing less,” said Ben. “Only for the
resourcefulness and speed of Grant, they would have held us scoreless.
We threw away fine opportunities, one splendid chance in particular;
and, although we got the start on them to begin with, we made nothing by
it. Unless we do better, we’ll be outplayed in the next quarter, mark
what I say.”
After this bit of general talk, he selected several of the players for
special advice and criticism. Lastly he spoke to the quarterback, whose
eyes, although fixed on Stone, held a far-away look, which seemed to
indicate lack of attention.
“Sage,” said Ben sharply, “Sage, listen to me.”
“Yes, sir,” said Fred, with a start.
“Several times you were woefully slow with your signals, and you know
that the swift aggression of a team depends mainly upon the quarterback.
No matter how prompt and ready the players may be, they can’t play fast
when a quarter dawdles over his signals. It’s not like you to be slow,
and I fail to understand it. You missed a fine chance to take advantage
of a Barville fumble, and, only for Nelson, those chaps would have
obtained possession of the ball after losing it on a bungling pass and
letting it bound to your very feet. Are you sick?”
Fred’s face was crimson. “No, sir, I’m not sick,” he answered. “I’m all
right.”
“Then it’s up to you to get into the game and play as if you were all
right.”
“I will, depend on it,” promised the quarterback.
Before the boys returned to the field Roy Hooker found an opportunity to
speak privately with his friend.
“Get a brace on, Fred—get a brace on,” urged Roy. “If you don’t, they’ll
blame it on our little outing last night. I never saw you so punk
before. Your wits seem to be wool-gathering.”
“I guess that’s right,” acknowledged Fred regretfully. “I’ll get into
gear now. Watch me.”
“Has anything happened to worry you?”
“Nun-no,” faltered Sage, “not a thing.” But, somehow, Roy felt that his
chum had not spoken the truth.
The second quarter opened quite as fiercely as the first, but with
Barville plainly prepared for quick, savage work and ready to contribute
her part of it. Indeed, the visitors seemed the more aggressive, even
though Oakdale improved all the opportunities that were offered; and,
presently, after some eight minutes of play, the home team found itself
making a desperate defence on its own thirty-yard line. Right there,
after a first down had yielded no gain, Barville tried the forward pass
and executed it successfully, cutting down the distance to the home
team’s goal by fully one half.
“Hold them, boys—you’ve got to hold them!” was the cry from the Oakdale
crowd.
“Got ’em going!” came from the visiting spectators. “Keep it up, boys!
Put the ball over for a touchdown! You can do it!”
Barville had found a weak spot in Oakdale’s line, and, mercilessly
buffeted and battered, Bob Collins, the left guard, showed signs of
grogginess. With only fifteen yards to gain, the visitors followed the
forward pass with another assault on Collins, which, although they made
only a slight gain, left him groaning on the ground. Promptly attended
by a doctor, Collins pluckily tried to stand on his pins and resume his
place in the line; but the moment he was released by supporting hands he
staggered, being prevented from falling only by the quickness of Nelson
in catching him.
Stone saw that Collins could not continue and ordered him to the side
line, at the same time calling for Hooker. Surprised that he should be
selected from the waiting substitutes, Roy promptly responded.
“Get in there at left guard, Hooker,” directed Stone, “and see if you
can stop that hole.”
Fresh and exultant, Roy took his place in the line, and, when Barville
tried the quality of the substitute, the hole was found to be stopped
effectively. Not another foot could the visitors gain through Oakdale’s
left wing.
Blocked and held, Barville apparently decided to try for a field goal,
even though success at that would leave the home team still in the lead.
It was Stone, however, who suspected a fake and hurriedly warned his
players; and Ben’s perception baffled the smashing charge of the
visitors, who were held for the final down, thus losing the ball.
Of course no time was lost in booting the pigskin away from that
dangerous point.
Nothing daunted over this failure, Barville resumed the battering
process, occasionally varying it with an end run or some peculiar piece
of strategy of her own concoction. But the locals, stronger on the
defence than the offence, refused for the time being to let the enemy
regain the lost advantage.
In the last minutes of the quarter, with Oakdale in possession of the
ball, Sage once more betrayed surprising slowness and even symptoms of
confusion in giving the signals. This was true to such an extent that
finally, in desperation, Stone went in at quarter himself, letting Fred
play fullback. And even then Sage was slow about getting into the plays.
The quarter ended with the score unchanged.
In the second period of rest the Oakdale captain drew the quarterback
apart from the others and talked to him with great earnestness. Of those
who watched the two, Piper took special note of the fact that Sage
seemed discouraged and downcast, and it was evident that Stone was
seeking by every possible manner of encouragement to brace him up. With
Fred at his best, no one else on the team could fill his position nearly
as well, and for this reason Ben was extremely loath to make a change.
Collins, having recovered from the gruelling he had received, was
anxious to get back into the game, and he made an appeal to Stone the
moment Ben finished his talk with Sage. Hooker, however, had done
surprisingly well, and the captain told Collins that he would have wait
until, during the course of the play, an opportunity offered for him to
return.
The Oakdale boys were now showing few signs of elation, for the second
quarter had led them to realize that the two teams were more evenly
matched than they had supposed, and that, doubtless, they had been
rather lucky in securing six points in the first quarter, to say nothing
of their success in holding Barville in check after that.
In the last minute before they returned to the field, Stone called all
the players around him and hastily gave them a plan of action. As soon
as the ball came into their possession, unless they should chance to get
it so close to their own line that a kick would be necessary, they were
to line up and attempt a series of three varied plays, without waiting
for signals. He was careful to make them all understand precisely what
those plays were to be, and in what order they would be carried out.
Having made certain that no man misunderstood these directions, he led
them back to the gridiron.
It was Barville’s kick-off, but Copley’s effort was somewhat weak, and
Nelson ran the ball almost to the forty-five yard line before he bit the
dirt. This made it especially favorable for the carrying out of Stone’s
plans, and the Oakdale players lined up, eager to get the start on their
antagonists then and there.
Tuttle, with the ball between his feet, took one quick backward glance,
and, seeing the others springing into position, prepared to snap it.
Just as he was on the point of doing so, he was astounded to hear Sage
cry:
“Signal!” Following which, Fred rattled off some numbers which called
for a play entirely different from that agreed upon.
A bit confused, Tuttle snapped the ball to Sage, who passed it instantly
to Grant. The confusion of the center was likewise felt by every member
of the team, which led to faltering and gave the enemy a chance to
overwhelm them and bear them back for a loss of more than five yards.
In the midst of the untangling mass Stone reached Sage, grasped him by
the shoulder and almost snarled into his ear:
“What’s the matter with you? What made you do that? You know we had
arranged to work three plays without signals.”
“I—I forgot,” said Fred. “I’m sorry, but I forgot, captain.”
“Well, you messed things finely! It’s too late now. Get into action and
see if you can make up for the blunder somehow.”
Apparently Sage tried hard to atone, and for a time he displayed a
return to his best form. His blunder, however, had greatly disturbed the
others, and the entire team betrayed such uncertainty and lack of
cohesive, united action that the home crowd was dismayed. In a few
moments Oakdale was compelled to surrender the ball on a kick.
After this the quarter was heartbreaking in many ways. Twice the
visitors threatened Oakdale’s goal, and twice they were repulsed. In her
turn Oakdale had an opportunity that set her supporters into a frenzy of
hope and enthusiasm. An end run that netted thirty yards was followed by
a trick play that yielded ten more, and then came a forward pass which
placed the locals within striking distance of the enemy’s goal.
Right there Sage once more dashed Oakdale’s hopes. The team had two sets
of signals. This was necessary to enable them to switch from one set to
the other in case their opponents should get wise to the signals in use.
Now, however, Sage put them all into confusion by mixing the signals
himself in such a manner that it was impossible to tell which of two
plays he had called for. Then he made a bad pass, which was followed by
a fumble, and Barville, coming through Oakdale like water through a
sieve, got the ball.
Immediately Stone ordered Sage out of the game. Nelson was placed at
quarter, and his position was filled by a substitute.