THE SEASON BEGINS
In spite of Slim’s predictions, Leonard’s calm announcement to
Manager Tenney that he was a candidate for guard on the football team
occasioned no evident surprise. Considering that within forty-eight
hours Tenney had registered the name of a fat and pudgy junior whose
consuming ambition was to play quarterback and had listened to the calm
assurance of a lathe-like youth that he would be satisfied with nothing
save the position of center, the manager’s absence of emotion was not
surprising. Anyhow, Leonard was relieved to find that he was not to
meet opposition at the outset, and took his place in Squad C quite
satisfied. Football practice at Alton Academy differed from the same
occupation at Loring Point High School in at least two essentials, he
decided. It was more systematic and it was a whole lot more earnest.
There was little lost motion during the hour and a half that the
candidates occupied the field. You didn’t stand around waiting for
the coach to remember your existence and think up a new torture, nor,
when the coach was present, did you spend precious minutes in banter.
From the moment of the first “Let’s go!” to the final “That’s all,
fellows!” you had something to do and did it hard, impressed every
instant with the importance of the task set you. Of course, practice
was less amusing, less fun here at Alton. There was no social side to
the gathering. Even after a week of practice Leonard knew almost none
of the fellows he worked with. He did know the names of many, and he
had a “Hello” acquaintance with a half-dozen, but there was no time for
the social amenities.
He had been put down as a lineman and spent at least a half-hour daily
being instructed in the duties of blocking and charging. Always there
was another half-hour for each squad with the tackling dummies, of
which headless opponents there were two. Generally the balance of the
period was occupied in learning to handle the ball and in running
through a few simple formation plays. In these Leonard was played
anywhere that the assistant coach, usually acting as quarter, fancied.
Generally he was a guard or a tackle, now on this side and now on
that, but on two occasions he found himself cast for a backfield rôle
and trotted up and down the field as a half. On Tuesday afternoon the
first and second squads held the first scrimmage, and by Thursday Coach
Cade had put together a tentative eleven to meet Alton High School
on Saturday. No one was surprised to see Gordon Renneker occupying
the position of right guard, for Renneker’s fame had already spread
throughout the school.
[Illustration: There was another half-hour for each squad with the
tackling dummies]
That first engagement was played under a hot sun and with the
temperature hovering around seventy-two when High School kicked off.
Naturally enough, as an exhibition of scientific football it left much
to be desired. High School showed lack of condition and her players
were to be seen stretched on their backs whenever time was called.
Alton appeared of somewhat sterner stuff, but there was no doubt that
half-time came as a welcome interruption even to her. “Johnny” Cade
started Gurley and Emerson at ends, Butler and Wilde at tackles,
Stimson and Renneker at guards and Garrick at center. The backfield
consisted of Carpenter, Goodwin, Kendall and Greenwood. But this
line-up didn’t persist long. Even by the end of the first quarter
“Red” Reilly was at right half and Wells was at right tackle. During
the remainder of the game changes were frequent until, near the end of
the final period, second- and third-string players made up the team.
Coach Cade tried out much unknown material that afternoon, and it
seemed to Leonard that he was the only candidate who hadn’t been given
a chance. As a matter of fact, though, there were some twenty others
in like case, for the squad had not yet been cut. It was when Alton
was presenting her weakest line-up that High School cut loose with her
second bombardment of overhead shots--the first essay, in the second
quarter, had netted her little enough--and secured her lone touchdown.
She failed to add a goal since her line didn’t hold long enough for her
kicker to get the ball away. The final score of the slow and ragged
contest was 23 to 6. Talking it over afterwards in the comparative
coolness of Number 12 Haylow, Slim was pessimistic. Perhaps the fact
that his own efforts during approximately half of the forty minutes of
actual play had not been brilliantly successful colored his mood.
“We’ve got plenty of material,” pronounced Slim, elevating his
scantily-clad legs to the window-sill, “and I guess it’s average good,
but it’s going to take us a long time to get going this year. You can
see that with half an eye. Look at the army of queers that Johnny tried
out this afternoon. That’s what slows up development, General. Now,
last year we had the makings of a team right at the start. Only three
or four first-string lads, I think, but a perfect gang of experienced
substitutes, to say nothing of second team fellows. Result was that we
started off with a bang and kept going. You bet High School didn’t do
any scoring last season!”
“But,” objected Leonard, “weren’t you telling me the other day that the
team had an awful slump about the middle of the season, and--”
“Oh, well, that had nothing to do with the start. Two or three things
accounted for that. What I’m getting at is just this. It’s mighty poor
policy to spend the first two weeks of a football season finding out
that more than half of your material’s no good to you. If I ever coach
a team there’ll be no mob under my feet after the first three or four
days. Thirty men’ll be all I’ll want. If I can’t build a team out of
them, all right. I get out.”
“Glad that rule doesn’t hold good now,” said Leonard. “If it did I’d be
out of it already.”
“Well, I don’t know. No, you wouldn’t either! That’s what I’m getting
at. You can play football. You’ve done it for two years. You’ve
had experience. All right. But look at the run of the small fry
that--that’s infesting the field so you have to watch your step to
keep from tramping on ’em. Why, suffering cats, most of ’em won’t be
ready to play football for two years yet! There are chaps out there
who couldn’t stop a ball with their heads! The ball would knock ’em
right over. Well, Johnny gives each of ’em the once-over, and it takes
time. He knows they aren’t going to show anything. It’s just this silly
policy of giving every one a chance to make good. That’s why you’re
sitting on the bench and a bunch of scrawny little would-be’s are
letting High School shove over a score on us.”
“You may be right,” answered Leonard, “but it seems to me that it’s
only by giving every one a chance to show what he’s good for that you
can be sure of not overlooking something. I’ve seen more than once a
fellow who didn’t look like anything at all at the start of the season
turn into something good later on.”
“Sure, that happens now and then, but what of it? If the fellow really
has ability he keeps on playing. He goes to the scrubs or one of the
class teams. If he makes good there he mighty soon finds himself yanked
back to the first. And the coach hasn’t wasted a week or two trying to
find out about him.”
“Well, I guess I’m--I’m conservative, or something,” laughed Leonard,
“for I sort of like a team that starts slow and gets up its speed
gradually. I know that back home our coach used to point us for our
big game, the last one, and all the other games were taken as they
came, more or less. Of course, when we played Delaware Polytechnic we
smoothed out a bit and learned two or three new plays just beforehand,
but we didn’t go out of our way much even for her.”
“Oh, that’s all right, General. I don’t want to see any team hit its
stride too early. Safe and slow is my motto, too, but that doesn’t mean
you’ve got to get started a fortnight after school opens. Look here,
I’ll bet you that next Saturday Johnny won’t be any nearer settled on
the team’s make-up than he was to-day. Well, of course, he’ll know
about some positions, but he’ll still be experimenting. Rus Emerson’s
the same sort he is, too; has an ingrown conscience or--or sense of
responsibility toward others. If Rus had his way any fellow who could
borrow a pair of football pants could have a week’s try-out!”
“Who plays us next Saturday?” asked Leonard.
“Lorimer Academy. They’re a nice crowd of chaps, and they don’t give us
much trouble. Last year, though, they did sort of throw a scare into
us. We got three scores to their two. It was right after that we played
a tie game with Hillsport and went into a jolly slump. Say, that guy
Renneker didn’t show up so mighty wonderful to-day, did you think?”
“N-no, he looked a bit slow to me. But I guess he hasn’t got used to
the place yet. Either that or he was sort of saving himself.”
“Saving himself for what?” demanded Slim.
“Search me.” Leonard smiled. “Maybe he thought there wasn’t much use
working too hard against a weak team like Alton High.”
Slim shook his head, looking incredulous. “All I know is that the short
time we were in together he was generally ‘on the outside looking in.’
Rather gives me the impression of being a poser. Still, to-day wasn’t
much of a test; and he’s pretty big and perhaps the heat stalled him
some. Hope he pans out big, for we sure need a corking good guard.
Smedley’s a pippin, and Raleigh isn’t too bad, but we need another. To
look at Renneker you’d expect him to be a hustler, but he didn’t show
it to-day. He was outside most of the plays when I saw him. Not like
Jim Newton. Jim’s always in the middle of it. For a center, Jim’s a
live wire. Doesn’t matter much where the play comes in the line; Jim’s
always sitting on the enemy’s head when the dust clears away! Say, I
wish you’d switch your game, General, and try for tackle or something,
something you’d have a show at.”
“But you just said,” answered the other demurely, “that the team needed
another good guard.”
Slim grinned and shook his head. “All right, son, but I’d like to see
you on the team. That’s all.”
“Think one of us ought to get on, eh?”
“Huh? Oh, well, there’s something in that, too. I’m not very sure of a
place, and that’s no jolly quip. Gurley’s a good end, worse luck! And
there’s Kerrison, too. But I’ll give them a fight for it. They’ll know
they’ve been working if they beat me out, General! Let’s go and see
what they’re giving us for supper.”
Leonard met the captain that evening for the first time. Met him
socially, that is to say, Russell Emerson and Billy Wells overtook
Leonard and Slim on their way to the movies. Wells was one of those
Leonard already had a speaking acquaintance with, but Emerson had thus
far remained outside his orbit. Continuing the journey, Leonard fell to
Billy Wells and Rus and Slim walked ahead, but coming home they paired
differently and Leonard found himself conversing with the captain, at
first somewhat embarrassedly. But the football captain was easy to
know, as the saying is, and Leonard soon forgot his diffidence. Of
course, football formed some of the conversation, but Leonard sensed
relief on the other’s part when the subject changed to the pictures
they had just witnessed. After that they talked of other things; the
school, and Leonard’s home in Rhode Island--Rus, it seemed, had never
been farther south than he was now--, and the faculty and some of the
fellows. The captain seemed to take it for granted that his companion
was familiar with the names he mentioned, although as a fact most of
them were new to Leonard. Mention of “Jake,” the trainer, introduced
a laughable story about Jake and a track team candidate, in which
Rus tried to imitate Jake’s brogue. That reminded Leonard of Johnny
McGrath, and he asked Rus if he knew him.
“Yes, I’ve met him several times,” was the answer. “I’ve been trying to
get him to try football. He’s a very good basket ball player and I’ve a
strong hunch that he’d make a corking half. But his folks, his mother
especially, I believe, object. He had a brother killed in the War, and
his mother is dead set against taking chances with another of them. Too
bad, too, for he’s a fast, scrappy fellow. The good-natured kind, you
know. Plays hard and keeps his temper every minute. There’s a lot in
keeping your temper, Grant.”
“But I’ve heard of teams being ‘fighting mad’ and doing big things.”
“Yes, the phrase is common enough, but ‘fighting earnest’ would be
better. Just as soon as a fellow gets really mad he loses his grip more
or less. He makes mistakes of judgment, begins to play ‘on his own.’
If he gets angry enough he stops being any use to the team. Of course
there are chaps now and then who can work themselves up to a sort of
fighting fury and play great football, but I suspect that those chaps
aren’t really quite as wild as they let on. There’s Billy back there.
He almost froths at the mouth and insults the whole team he’s playing
against, but he never loses anything more than his tongue, I guess. The
old bean keeps right on functioning as per usual. Billy doesn’t begin
to warm up until his opponent double-crosses him or some one hands him
a wallop! By the way, Grant, you’re on the squad, aren’t you? Seems to
me I’ve seen you out at the field.”
“Yes,” Leonard assented, “I’m trying.”
“Good! What position?”
“Guard,” answered Leonard stoutly.
“Sure?”
“I beg pardon?”
Emerson smiled. “I mean, are you certain that’s the position you want?
You look a little light for guard.”
“I suppose I am,” said Leonard ruefully. “I tried hard to grow last
summer, but I didn’t succeed very well. Our coach back home insists
that I ought to play guard and so I’m sticking to it. Probably I won’t
have much of a show this year, though.”
“Have you been in a scrimmage yet?”
“No, I haven’t. I’ve been on Squad C for a week or so. I’ve been at
guard and tackle, and played back, too. Sort of a utility man.”
“Well, if you’re on C you haven’t done so badly. We’ll have to try you
in the scrimmage some afternoon. To be honest, though, Grant, you’d
have a better chance to get placed at tackle than at guard, for it just
happens that we’re pretty well fixed for guard material this year.
At least, we think so now. We may change our minds later. After all,
a fellow who can play guard ought to fit pretty well into the tackle
position. I dare say you’d rather do that than not get anywhere.”
“I guess so,” replied Leonard. Then he laughed. “I suppose I’m sort of
stubborn about playing guard, Emerson. I’ve just had it dinned into
me that guard’s my game, and I can’t seem to take kindly to doing
something else. But, as you say, I’d rather play any position at all
than none!”
“Why, yes. Besides, you don’t have to stick where they put you. I knew
a fellow who started here in his second year as half-back on the scrub
team, went to the first as end the next year and then played a corking
game at center in his senior year. I guess that was an unusual case,
but lots of chaps switch from line to backfield and vice versa. Well,
here’s my hang-out.” The captain paused in front of Lykes. “I’m in 16,
Grant. Come and see me some time, won’t you? Slim knows the way.”
Slim and Billy Wells joined them and then the latter and Rus Emerson
said good night and went into Lykes. Slim thrust an arm through
Leonard’s as they continued toward their own dormitory. “Well, what
did you and Rus cook up?” he inquired.
“We settled one or two things; such as dropping you and Gurley to the
second and putting me in at left end.”
“Fine! Anything else?”
“Well, he said that if I didn’t like that he’d fix it for me to play
tackle. Of course I told him that guard was my game, and he was awfully
decent about offering to let Renneker go and putting me in at right
guard, but I saw that it would make it a bit awkward for him, and I put
my foot down on it at once.”
“You would,” said Slim admiringly. “You’ve got a kind heart, General.
I’ll say that for you. I wish,” added Slim feelingly, “I could think of
something else to say for you!”