THE NEW PLAYS ARE TRIED
The football council, or board of strategy, as George Cotner liked to
call it, met at Dick’s house Sunday night. Gordon, who had dropped
around to call, was included. Lanny, Chester Cottrell and Cotner were
the other members. None save Dick knew of Morris’s injury until Dick
made it known. Then consternation indeed did reign.
“Do you mean,” demanded Lanny, “that he won’t be able to play at all
against Springdale?”
“The doctor forbids it. The leg isn’t broken anywhere, but it’s had a
bad wrench and Morris says he simply laughed at him when he asked if
it would be well enough by the eighteenth for him to play. He’s on his
back to-day and must stay there until Tuesday at least. I went around
there this afternoon. Morris isn’t――” Dick smiled slightly――“isn’t
awfully cheerful company just now!”
“But――but that puts us in a beast of a hole!” exclaimed Lanny. “Can
Tupper kick a goal if he has a chance?”
“The best Tupper has done is something like four out of ten tries from
around the twenty-yard line and at almost no angle. I think by next
year George will be a fairly good drop-kicker, but there isn’t much
hope for this year. Of course, we’ll keep him at it and make him do the
best he can, but there’s no use counting on him much in the Springdale
game, fellows.”
Lanny laughed mirthlessly. “Pleasant news, isn’t it?” he asked of the
assemblage. “It might save us trouble to forfeit the game.”
“We’re not beaten yet,” responded Dick. “Besides you chaps and me and
the doctor, no one knows of this; excepting Morris’s folks, of course,
and they, as well as the doctor, have been sworn to secrecy. Now I want
you fellows to agree not to breathe a word of it to anyone; not to even
talk of it amongst yourselves.”
They each nodded, looking, however, rather mystified.
“There’s just one thing left to do,” continued Dick. “We’ve got to
change the campaign. We’ve planned around Morris’s drop-kicking and
place-kicking; we’ve got to plan now on a rushing game. But Springdale
knows that we’ve got Morris Brent to put the ball over for us from
anywhere inside the twenty yards, and Springdale doesn’t look for us
to try to rush it over if the going’s tough. Once inside her twenty
she will expect a try-at-goal. Our one hope lies in allowing her to
continue thinking that. That’s why this has got to be kept quiet,
fellows. If she gets news of it she’ll know too much. Just as soon
as Morris is able to get out he will put togs on and report every
afternoon. Since practice is secret no one will know that he isn’t
playing. I shall tell every member of both teams to-morrow that anyone
giving out a particle of news will be dropped at once. In the Weston
game I’ll have Morris show himself on the field. The same any time we
hold open practice. No one need know of this except ourselves.”
“But if we don’t use him in the Springdale game won’t they guess?”
asked Gordon.
“They’ll worry,” replied Dick calmly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if
Morris sitting in plain sight on the bench was as much use to us as
though he played. For that matter, if the right conditions arrive I
mean to put him in.”
“In spite of the doctor?” gasped Chester.
“No, I’ll get the doctor’s permission for Morris to go in _if he
doesn’t play_!”
“If he doesn’t play? Then what――” Lanny, pausing, viewed Dick with
dawning comprehension. Then he grunted. “I see. There might be
something in that at a pinch.”
“And I’m afraid the pinch is going to come,” said Dick grimly.
“I don’t see,” began Cotner.
“I’m not ready to explain just yet,” Dick interrupted. “I’ll have to
work it out. Later I’ll have something to suggest. Morris is still an
asset, even if he can’t play, and we’ve got to find a way to use him.
Now, then, let’s see if we can plan out a game that will win without
any field-goals. My conviction is that near Springdale’s goal we won’t
be able to smash that line of theirs much. So we’ve got to find a way
of getting around it or a way of opening it up. Here are some plays
I’ve been working on. I want to see what you think of them.” Dick took
up a half-dozen sheets of paper. “These are all from B formation. I
think we will stick to that formation on attack right through,
fellows. I don’t believe that anything is to be gained by using the
other at times. Formation A won’t allow any play that B won’t, and the
fewer things we have to remember, the better. Now, here’s a forward
pass from kick formation. Beaton falls back to punting distance, you
hold your place, Lanny, Chester jumps to the right out of the way of
the pass and Tupper holds his place too. You and Tupper and Chester are
in position to protect the kicker and so far there’s nothing to give it
away. The ends go down as if under the punt, right end wheeling toward
the center after getting by and left keeping out toward the side line.
The ball is passed to Beaton and he fakes a kick and then runs, not
too fast, to the right about ten paces and throws to right end, if he
is uncovered. If not, then to Tupper, who, after blocking and letting
his man by on the inside, runs straight out to the right. You, Chester,
protect the throw from here, just in front of Beaton. We’ve got to get
the time right in this play. About ten counts should see everyone set
for the throw; perhaps eight; we’ll have to work that out in practice.
The same play can be used on the weak side. In that case Beaton would
run to the left, you following him, Chester, and Lanny running out to
the side to take the throw in case left end isn’t uncovered. I’m going
to number this 8 on the right and 9 on the left. What do you think of
it?”
[Illustration: “‘Here are some plays I’ve been working on.’”]
There were some criticisms, Lanny pointing out that there might be
danger from the enemy’s right wing coming through. This was discussed
and finally the play was set aside for trial. Dick next presented
a delayed pass from kick formation with left end coming around and
taking the ball from quarter. This promised a good variation of an
old play and Chester was enthusiastic over it. Three other plays
followed: a delayed pass with fullback taking the ball for a plunge
at center, a rather complicated lateral pass in which the entire
backfield participated, and a simple tackle-around play with an end
participating. All were decided to be worth trying out against the
Scrubs. Finally Saturday’s game came up for discussion and criticism,
and, after that had been thoroughly threshed out, the subject of
injuries was brought up. Only Nelson Beaton had suffered more than
superficially. He was pretty well bruised, Lanny reported. It was
decided to excuse all players who had gone through three periods on
Saturday from to-morrow’s practice. It was almost eleven o’clock when
the conference broke up, and after the others had gone Dick remained
until nearly midnight at the parlor table. Once he took up a blue-book,
fourteen of whose thirty-two pages were decorated with weird plans from
the brain of Fudge Shaw, and examined the contents attentively. But in
the end he laid it down with a sigh. Fudge’s plays were all old, true
and tried. He had utterly failed to show any of that ingenuity which he
lavished on his stories, Dick reflected. After that he took up his own
plays and studied them frowningly, seeking to discover the weak points
in each. Later still, he put his hands behind his head, leaned back in
his chair and gazed tiredly and discouragedly at the green-shaded lamp.
In spite of his hopeful attitude before the others, he was in reality
pretty low in spirits to-night. It was, he told himself ruefully,
all very well to talk glibly of changing the plan of battle at the
eleventh hour, but would any new plan work out? As matters stood now
Springdale possessed a stronger and much heavier line, an equally fast
and slightly heavier backfield and an equally good punting department.
She was trained by an experienced coach who had been with the team for
several years and who had previously shown himself remarkably clever
at devising new plays for his men. On the whole, Clearfield’s outlook
was rather depressing to-night, and Clearfield’s coach, when, finally,
he put out the lamp, locked up the house and went to bed, was far from
hopeful.
But morning always brings new courage, and Monday morning made no
exception in Dick’s case. The sun shone radiantly, there was a pleasant
crispness in the breeze which blew through his window and things looked
a heap better to him, although, actually, conditions had not changed
a bit since midnight! At breakfast he neglected his eggs while he
searched anxiously through the Springdale paper for its account of the
Clearfield and Lesterville game. And when he had read it he sighed his
satisfaction. Not a word was said about Morris’s injury. That incident
had gone unnoticed, or so it appeared.
Lesterville, Nov. 4: [he read] Clearfield High School won an
interesting and closely contested game from the home team
here this afternoon, 3–0. The visitors showed more team-play
and were better able to gain outside of tackles. Neither team
had enough punch to put the ball over the line, Clearfield
making the only score by a field-goal in the first period,
Brent kicking from the twenty-yard line. Nothing new in plays
was shown by either team. For Lesterville, Norris, fullback,
played a fine game and Purdy, at quarter, ran the team well.
Lesterville’s line was slow and the opponent owed many of her
gains to the fact. For Clearfield, Captain White played his
usually brilliant game and was well assisted by Hansard and
N. Beaton, and, later, by Brent, who went in for Beaton. Many
substitutes were used on both sides.
The local paper, which gave nearly a half column to the event,
mentioned the injury to Morris, but gave no hint of its seriousness.
Dick was well satisfied and returned to his breakfast with a good
appetite.
Morris’s absence from school that day went unnoticed. On Tuesday he
appeared, a little gloomy, but showing no sign of anything wrong save a
slight limp when off his guard. All that week he reported at practice
and no one outside of the field guessed that he spent the time sitting
disconsolately on the bench, wrapped in a blanket, or in coaching
Tupper and Nelson Beaton at kicking goals! On Friday the public was
admitted to the enclosure, but there was no scrimmage by the Varsity
and the fact that Morris didn’t even participate in signal work or
give an exhibition of his booting ability caused no comment, since
it had been understood all the Fall that Morris was being taken care
of and given only enough work to keep him in condition. On Saturday,
when Weston faced Clearfield, there was no good reason for kicking
field-goals since the Purple found no trouble in doing pretty much as
she pleased with her opponent, and so again Morris’s absence occasioned
no surprise. He was much in evidence along the side lines, dressed for
play, and if he wasn’t used it was plainly because Coach Lovering chose
to score by rushing rather than by the aërial route.
Cotner assured himself that no Springdale scouts had gained admission
to the field that day and passed the news to Dick. Consequently, in the
third and fourth periods, the team tried out some of the new plays on
Weston and saw with much satisfaction that they puzzled the adversary
and gained ground. Although a light team, Weston was quick to size-up
plays, and that the new ones succeeded against her argued particularly
well for them. Dick put in what was practically an entirely substitute
line-up in the fourth quarter and the subs gave an excellent account
of themselves. When the final whistle blew the score was Clearfield
26, Weston 0. There still remained much to be accomplished in the
remaining four days of practice before the Springdale contest, but, on
the whole, Dick was satisfied with the work of his charges. The attack
was not yet as smooth as he wanted it, but on the defense the team
had shown up finely, and against a team which, if not powerful, was
more than ordinarily versatile and resourceful. Dick’s defense against
forward passes worked well, and Gordon Merrick at left end and Felker
at right covered themselves with glory. Clearfield’s own attempts at
forward passing were not very successful, but Weston had been coached
to guard against such plays and was consequently hard to deceive. The
Number 8 Play did, however, catch her napping on two occasions. The
school at large went away highly pleased with the showing of their team
and predicting rout and disaster for Springdale the following Saturday.
Springdale, too, overwhelmed a weak opponent that afternoon, as Dick
learned by stopping at the Square on his way home with Gordon in Eli.
In fact, Springdale had scored seven more points than had Clearfield.
But, since it was a question whether Springdale’s adversary was not an
even weaker team than Weston, Dick refused to be troubled.
On Sunday Fudge called for his blue-book and was at first plainly
disappointed at Dick’s verdict. When, however, Dick had explained that
what the team wanted was a play that was deceptive rather than merely
involved Fudge took heart again. Fudge was a born optimist, anyway, and
it took more than one disappointment to discourage him.
“I g-g-get you now, Dick,” he said, pocketing his blank-book. “You
l-l-leave it to m-m-me! I thought of a dandy play this morning in
church, but I’ve got to work it out. I’ll show it to you to-morrow.
Talk about deceptiveness! Gee, this is a c-c-corker.”
“That’s fine,” said Dick, with a smile for Fudge’s confidence. “What’s
it like?”
But Fudge refused to divulge any information regarding it, taking
himself off with renewed requests for Dick to leave it to him! Which
Dick, having lost faith in Fudge’s ability as a football tactician, was
perfectly willing to do.
Tuesday morning the Clearfield paper made a startling assertion. “In
practice yesterday,” it said, “Morris Brent, High School’s phenomenal
goal-kicker, made what is probably a record hereabouts. Brent put over
seventeen goals from twenty tries, most of them from difficult angles.
If more than half of Clearfield’s total against Springdale is not made
by this player’s clever right foot we lose our guess.”
“Now where in the name of common sense,” gasped Dick, “did they get
that tale?” Lanny, when Dick repeated the question to him, laughed.
“That’s some of Chester’s nonsense,” he said. “Billings――he does the
High School news for the paper, you know――met Chester after practice
yesterday and tried to work him for news. Chester told him he wasn’t
allowed to say anything of what went on at practice. ‘But,’ says
Chester, ‘you’re a fellow who’s seen a lot of football, Billings, and I
want to ask you one thing. Did you ever know of any drop-kicker putting
over seventeen out of twenty, and from hard angles?’ Of course Billings
said he hadn’t and wanted to know all about it. But Chester wouldn’t
talk, begged Billings not to use what he had told him, or, if he must
use it, not to tell where he’d got it, and then beat it. So that’s how
that happened.”
Dick smiled and frowned. Finally he laughed. “Well, that’s what I’d
call a near-lie, Lanny. Still, it _is_ funny! And it won’t do us any
harm, either. I hope the Springdale paper copies it.”
It did, the next morning. It not only copied it but it enlarged on it
and declared that five of the successful attempts had been made from
the forty-yard line! Chester was vastly amused over the success of what
he termed his diplomacy, but Morris, oddly enough, was as mad as a
hatter about it.
“It makes me look like a fool,” he declared. “Anyone knows you couldn’t
drop five goals over from the forty in twenty tries! Who started that
yarn?”
He wasn’t told, however. As Lanny said, they’d need Chester’s services
next Saturday, and he would be of far more use whole than in pieces!