THE NEW COACH TAKES HOLD
Dick Lovering’s selection to mold the destinies of the Clearfield
High School Football Team did not meet with universal approbation. It
would have been strange if it had. Dick, handicapped as he was by his
physical disability and far too busy a youth to mix in many of the
school interests, had, after all, but a limited circle of personal
acquaintances, and those who knew him only by sight and reputation were
inclined to be dissatisfied. There was no animosity toward Dick, but it
was felt that to put a boy who had never played the game and had had no
practical experience at the head of football affairs was, to say the
least, a hazardous experiment. Some fellows went farther and declared
that it was idiotic.
“Dick Lovering’s all right,” they said, “but he’s a cripple, and even
if he knew how to coach the team, he couldn’t do it on crutches! Wait
till you hear Springdale laugh at us when they hear it!”
Those who really knew Dick, on the other hand, hailed his choice with
satisfaction. Perhaps Tom Haley voiced the general sentiment of this
faction as well as anyone. “I don’t care a bit,” he said, “whether Dick
knows a football from a baked potato. If Dick undertakes to coach the
team he’ll do it and do it well. I never saw the thing yet that Dick
couldn’t do when he made up his mind to it. And there isn’t a fellow
in school who can make what he says go as Dick can. We may not beat
Springdale this year, but if we don’t it won’t be Dick’s fault!”
But whether the school in general approved or disapproved, the matter
was already beyond them by the time they heard of it officially, which
was the noon following George Cotner’s announcement on the steps. For
Lanny had begged speedy action by the Athletic Committee and a hurried
meeting had been held in Mr. Grayson’s office at eleven o’clock.
Curtis Wayland, who at Lanny’s solicitation had risked the doctor’s
displeasure and attended as one of the three undergraduate members,
informed Lanny afterwards that there had not been a dissenting voice
and that Mr. Grayson had been highly pleased. “The selection of one
of your own kind, an undergraduate, a――a fellow with no taint of
professionalism,” he declared, “is right in line with my theory that
schoolboy sports and athletics should be conducted by schoolboys and
not by hired mentors. I approve heartily, and I congratulate White and
the others on the good sense they have displayed. And I wish Richard
Lovering and the team all success.”
The news was received with incredulous surprise and at first the
authenticity of it was doubted by those not in the secret. Succeeding
surprise, came amusement, approbation or disapproval according to
the conviction of the person. At all events, the matter created an
excited interest that drove practically the whole student body to the
field that Tuesday afternoon. Those who went to scoff, however, found
little opportunity. They saw Dick’s blue auto standing at the end of
the grandstand near the big gate and discovered Dick himself, wearing
his honors very modestly, swinging about on his crutches in a quiet
and businesslike way, for all the world as if he had been coaching
football teams all his short life.
But there was plenty of matter for surprise, however. Instead of the
usual spectacle of three squads practicing independently of each
other, they found all the candidates, new and old, experienced and
inexperienced, democratically jumbled together and performing the most
elementary tasks!
Clearfield on the side lines was amused, to say the least, at the
spectacle of fellows like Haley, Cottrell, Cable and even Lanny
White himself, fellows who had played for one, two and even three
years on the First Team as regulars or substitutes, passing the ball
to each other, falling on it, and practicing starts and performing
similar kindergarten feats! Had it not been for this humorous aspect,
the spectators would have found practice that afternoon distinctly
uninteresting. There was no punting, no line work, not even dummy
practice. For a solid hour and a half Clearfield’s football heroes,
proved and incipient, went through the veriest drudgery and, on the
whole, did it cheerfully. Those of the audience who most disapproved of
the new coach had to acknowledge grudgingly that, at least, Lovering
had the courage of his convictions. And many marveled that the
regulars accepted the afternoon’s duties so uncomplainingly. But those
who marveled had not, of course, been present in the dressing-room when
Dick had made his short speech to the assembled players.
His appearance had been greeted with a welcome that must have pleased
him, although if it did he failed to show it. He was very quiet, very
businesslike, very terse. “First of all, fellows,” he announced without
preliminary rhetoric, “it must be understood that you and I are here
for just one thing. That’s to get together a team that will beat
Springdale. If we can win other battles, well and good. If we can’t,
well and good. In order to beat Springdale we’ve got to play regular
football, fellows, and in order to do that we’ve got to learn how. Some
of you know more football than others, but I’m not going to take your
words for it. To-day you are all on the same level and we are going to
start all over, just as if this was the first day of practice and you
hadn’t already played one contest. There’s no First Squad, no Scrub
Team, no Third Squad yet. Every fellow has got to show me what he can
do and for the next two or three days you will all have to go back to
elementary work. Those of you who aren’t willing to do that had better
tell me now and empty your lockers. There’s going to be plenty of hard
work for some time, perhaps all the season; drudging work that isn’t
exciting or spectacular but that you’ve got to go through with if you
expect to face Springdale. I’d like every one of you who goes on the
field presently to do it with your mind made up to do what you’re told
without question and to do it cheerfully. That’s the only way you and I
can work together to any sort of success.”
Dick nodded to Lanny and swung himself toward the door, but paused
there, for Lanny was talking.
“That’s good straight talk, fellows,” Lanny was saying earnestly, “and
I second it. But Coach Lovering mustn’t think he can frighten us by
talking hard work to us, for he can’t. We expect to work hard and we
want to work hard. We want to get back at Springdale this year and wipe
out what happened last, fellows, and we aren’t going to mind anything
that happens so long as we can face Springdale in November with an even
chance to win!”
The applause greeting that sentiment was spontaneous and hearty.
“There’s just one other thing, fellows,” Lanny continued. “You all know
the fellow who has just spoken to you, and those of you who know him
as well as I do――or half as well――know that he will do the very best
he knows how for us. But it’s new stuff to Dick and it’s not going to
be any cinch for him. So let’s help him all we can, remembering that
by helping him we’re helping ourselves and the School. Let’s put our
confidence in him, fellows, let’s do what he tells us cheerfully and
let’s make up our minds that, no matter what――what discouragements or
failures may come, in the end we’re going to be right there with the
goods! Lovering isn’t doing this for money, as most of you know, for
the Committee has seen to that. He’s doing it because――well, because
some of us pestered the life out of him until he consented, and because
he’s patriotic enough to take over a mighty difficult and thankless job
when he can’t really afford the time it will take. Now, fellows, let’s
have a cheer for Coach Lovering, and make it good!”
And it was good! And Dick, who had waited at the door for Lanny to
conclude, slipped out and, with the whole-hearted acclaim from some
forty lusty throats following him, gazed thoughtfully across the
fading green of the field and silently resolved to make good in this
new and strange role he had assumed.
That evening, after supper, Dick, Lanny, George Cotner and Chester
Cottrell met at Lanny’s house. Cotner had prepared a list of candidates
arranged alphabetically at Dick’s request. When he received the list
Dick asked but one question: “Are all those fellows eligible to play,
George?”
“Yes, as far as I know. I have to take their words for it, of course.”
“We won’t do that. I’ll hand this list to Mr. Murray to-morrow and ask
him to check it up. Some of them may not have passed the examination
and we don’t want to waste time on any fellow who may be taken away
from us later on.”
Lanny looked doubtful. “We haven’t paid much attention to physical
examinations lately, Dick,” he said. “I guess I could name half a dozen
fellows who haven’t been near Mr. Murray this Fall.”
“The rule is still in force, isn’t it?” asked Dick in surprise.
“Yes, I suppose so, but it’s a sort of dead letter now.”
“It shouldn’t be, Lanny. We don’t want fellows who are not sound and
fit. We don’t want accidents and we don’t want fellows petering out in
mid-season. So I guess we’ll have all those who haven’t taken their
exams do it to-morrow. Suppose you write a notice to that effect,
George, and post it on the bulletin board. And write a call for
candidates, too, please. Say we want twenty more fellows, must have
them right away and don’t care whether they’ve played football before
or not.”
“You’ll get a lot of dubs if you say that,” volunteered Cottrell
dubiously.
“I don’t want dubs,” smiled Dick, “but I do want to get hold of fellows
who have strong bodies and good lungs and plenty of brains. I’d rather
make a team out of eleven chaps with intelligence who never saw a
football than out of that many football players without intelligence,
Chester. Even if we find only one out of the twenty who makes good
it’ll be worth the trouble.”
“Right-o,” said George. “Shove me some of that pad over here, Lanny.”
“Now,” said Dick, “tell me what you know of Springdale this year,
fellows. I know what she did to us last Fall and how she did it, but
I want to know what they are planning for this year and what sort of
material they have. Anybody know?”
Lanny and Cottrell each shook his head. George Cotner’s uninterrupted
scratching with his pen signified an equal ignorance.
“About all I know,” said Lanny finally, “is that they’ve got six of
last year’s team back and a number of good subs.”
“Have they got the same backfield?”
“Pretty near. They lost Morgan.”
“Morgan was left half, wasn’t he?”
“Right half.”
“And the chap who out-punted us about ten yards every time. Well, have
they got another punter in sight? Have they got anyone who is clever at
field-goals?”
“Search me,” responded Lanny. “We can find out, I suppose.”
“We must, Lanny. We’ve got to know pretty near what their line of
attack is to be in order to work up our defense. If they are going to
form their team around a clever drop-kicker we want to know it. If
they’re going to depend on the rushing game entirely we want to know
that. If they’re going in strong for passing we want to know that.”
“I suppose,” said Cottrell, “the best thing to do is to send a scout
to see them play next Saturday.”
Dick agreed. “But,” he added, “we won’t learn much from such an early
game, I think we’d better subscribe to the Springdale papers and follow
what we see there. Until we can get a fair idea of what Springdale’s
line of attack is going to be we can’t do much about our own defense.
But there’s plenty of time for that, fellows. I want to put in a good
three weeks of the old-fashioned football. We don’t want to lose the
game by a wretched fumble or through lack of ordinary football sense.
And that’s about the way we lost last Fall.”
“That’s so, I guess,” agreed Cottrell. “You all know I did all I could
to lose that game!”
“You made mistakes, Chester,” said Dick, “and so did most of the
others. I’m not trying to place the blame anywhere except on the team
as a whole. That’s where it belongs. But I don’t want to see the same
mistakes repeated this year. And that’s why I want the fellows to learn
football from the ground up. And there are plenty of them who began at
the second story,” he added dryly.
Lanny laughed. “That’s true, Dick. I felt myself last Fall that Farrell
wasn’t paying enough attention to essentials. And we all know that he
paid so little heed to the subs that when we wanted them we didn’t have
second or third string players who could do anything at all. I’m not
trying to put the loss of the game on Farrell, of course, but――well, he
did make mistakes. I suppose we all do.”
“Of course we do,” responded Dick cheerfully. “Only let’s try and make
as few as possible, and by all means let’s make fewer than the other
fellow. Will you look after posting those notices, George, the first
thing in the morning?”
“So will do,” answered the manager. “Want to see ’em?”
Dick read them over and approved. “Then that’s all for this time, I
guess,” he said, reaching for his crutches. “I’ll be going on. Want a
lift, Chester?”
“No, thanks, I’ll stay a while longer. Good night, Dick. Here’s hoping!”
Dick smiled in the doorway.
“Here’s trying,” he corrected.