A LESSON IN TACKLING
One direct result of that affair in the tank was that Steve found
himself something of a school celebrity because of his swimming prowess.
Within a few days he had good-naturedly agreed to give instruction to
some half-dozen acquaintances and might have taken on a half-dozen more
had he had the time for it. But there was only an odd hour or two during
the day for swimming and he soon found that, although he got a good deal
of fun out of instructing the others, it was taking too much of his
time. It was Roy's suggestion--Roy being one of the most enthusiastic
pupils--that those who wanted instruction should be on hand at a given
hour each day. The suggestion was adopted, and Edwards's Swimming Class
soon became a recognised institution. Five o'clock was the hour set, at
which time the tank was not much used, and Steve, having returned from
football practice, donned swimming trunks and repaired to the pool where
he usually found from four to a dozen boys awaiting him, since, by
attending to them all at once, he could look after a dozen as easily as
a few. Most of the pupils were boys of from thirteen to seventeen,
although there were two older fellows in the class, Jay Fowler and
Hatherton Williams. Both were Sixth Formers and both were football men.
Mr. Conklin, the physical director, gave enthusiastic endorsement and
encouragement. Brimfield had never supplied instruction in swimming,
something which the director had long regretted, and Mr. Conklin, could
he have had his way, would have made attendance at Steve's swimming
class compulsory for the younger boys and so have instituted a new
feature in the course of physical instruction. But Steve, willing to
teach a few fellows who could already swim the finer points of the
science, balked at teaching the rudiments to a half-hundred water-shy
youths who would have to be coaxed and coddled. Mr. Conklin tried his
best to persuade him, but Steve refused firmly.
They had a whole lot of fun during that swimming hour. Fowler and a
younger chap named Toll were the more accomplished performers in the
class, barring Steve himself, and every session ended with several very
earnest races in which Fowler, allowing Toll a five-yard handicap,
usually nosed out the younger boy in a contest of four times the length
of the tank. Then there was generally a free-for-all, the fellows lining
up on the edge of the pool, diving at the word from Steve and swimming
to the further end, where, after touching the wall, they turned and
hustled back to the start. Sometimes when football practice had been
more than usually gruelling, Steve stayed out of the water and
instructed from the floor, but more often he went in with the others and
followed them in their practice swims. Naturally it was the fancy diving
and the racing strokes that most of the fellows wanted to learn, but
Steve, who had never in his life before tried to teach anyone anything,
displayed a good deal of hard common-sense as an instructor and insisted
that each of his pupils should master one thing thoroughly before taking
up another. The result was that, barring one or two fellows who would
probably in any case have failed to become expert swimmers, the class
made really remarkable progress, and there came a time, although it was
considerably later in the school year, when both Jay Fowler and
Hatherton Williams could equal most of Steve's feats.
Tom started with the class, wisely deciding after his experience with
Eric Sawyer that the ability to keep one's head out of water was a fine
thing to have. But Tom was not cut out for a human fish and soon gave it
up. Roy Draper learned fairly well. He tried to induce Harry to join the
class, but Harry preferred to stay with Tom and look on from the floor.
When winter set in, Steve's class increased in numbers until in January
he was conducting the natatory education of more than two dozen fellows.
It was Mr. Conklin who arranged for an exhibition the latter part of the
winter and Steve was very proud of his pupils' work on that occasion. It
was held one Saturday afternoon and everyone attended, including even
"Josh," more formally known as Mr. Joshua Fernald, the principal. There
was fancy diving and swimming, a short game of water polo and all kinds
of races, beside which Steve showed some six or eight different strokes,
swam the length of the tank under water and performed other quite
startling feats to the delight of his audience. Mr. Fernald shook hands
with him afterwards and said several very nice things. But all this is
far beyond my story, and I am only telling of it because it led the
following autumn to the installation of a swimming instructor at
Brimfield and the addition of swimming to the list of "required studies"
for the boys of the four lower forms. The instructor came to the school
twice a week and put in two very busy hours there. So you see that
fracas between Steve and Eric Sawyer that evening strangely enough
resulted in important consequences and, since a knowledge of swimming is
a most useful one, worked for good.
But there were other consequences of that fracas as well, and I must get
back to those. Larchville Academy followed Miter Hill on Brimfield's
schedule and administered the first defeat of the season to the
Maroon-and-Grey. It wasn't so much that Brimfield played poorly as that
Larchville played unusually well. The visitors presented an aggregation
of big, well-trained youths who, most of them having been on their team
the previous year, were far in advance of Brimfield in the matter of
season development. Larchville's performance was what one might expect
in November, but scarcely looked for in the second week of October. Her
men played together all the time and her team-work stood out in strong
contrast to that of Brimfield, who had scarcely begun as yet to develop
such a thing. The final score was 17 to 3, and the only consolation was
found in the fact that Larchville's end of it might well have been much
larger. Brimfield's three points came as the result of one really
brilliant advance for half the length of the field followed by a neat
place-kick by Williams. The rest of the game was very much Larchville,
and Brimfield was on the defence most of the time.
And, to give credit where it belongs, it was Eric Sawyer who, back in
his position at right guard, held his side of the line firm on two
anxious occasions when Larchville was striving to hammer out touchdowns
under the shadow of her opponent's goal. On the whole, Brimfield played
good football that day and no one justly came in for adverse criticism.
Captain Miller, at left end, was spectacular under punts and played his
usual hard, steady game. Innes at centre was impregnable until the final
period. Williams, if a trifle weaker than his opponent, made up for it
by scoring the three points for his side. Benson, at right end, was less
successful than Captain Miller, but was good on the defence. The
back-field, although inclined to go it "every man for himself," showed
up well, especially when the enemy was in possession of the ball.
Milton, the first-choice quarter-back, ran the team like a general,
while Norton, the big full-back, proved the only consistent gainer
through the line. In spite of the fact that she had met with defeat,
Brimfield found encouragement in that contest, and, after the first few
minutes of regrets, spent the rest of the day unstintedly praising her
warriors.
There was only light practice the following Monday for those who had
taken part in the Saturday game, a fact which once more allowed Coach
Robey to give a good deal of attention to the second and third squads.
Steve was playing right end regularly now on the third, and Tom was
alternating at left guard on the second. The third squad was now down to
only eleven members, and when, after a hard hour of signal work and
fundamentals, the second and third were lined up for a ten-minute
scrimmage, Marvin had to borrow substitutes as needed from the second.
There was no scoring that day, but there was an awful lot of hard work.
Steve made one or two good plays down the field, but, as usual, was weak
on stopping the runner when he reached him. After they were dismissed,
Marvin stopped him as he was trotting off with the others.
"I say, Edwards, are you very tired?" he asked.
"N-no, I guess not," Steve replied.
"Then I wish you'd stay out a few minutes and let me try to show you
about tackling." Steve glanced distastefully at the dummy and doubtfully
at Marvin. But the latter smiled and shook his head. "Never mind the
dummy, Edwards," he said. "We'll have our fun right here. I'm going to
be the dummy and you're to stop me. Did they take all the balls away?
Never mind, we'll imagine the ball. Now, first of all I'm going to show
you how I'd handle you if you were the runner. Stand where you are,
please."
Marvin dropped in front of Steve and threw his arms about his legs just
above the knees. "There's your position, Edwards," he explained. "You
see I have my body in front of you. You've not only got to work against
my grip around your legs but you've got to push against my weight and
resistance. Try it."
Steve did try it, but he could only shuffle an inch or two.
"See?" asked Marvin. "Now, then, having tackled you, it's up to me to
put you down. If I let you come forward of your own impetus you'll fall
toward my goal, and by stretching out your arms you'll put the ball two
yards nearer the goal than where you stand. Of course you wouldn't risk
holding the ball at arms' length unless there was a possibility of
getting it across a goal-line by doing it. But even if you hold the ball
at your stomach you'll gain a yard by falling forward. Now my play is
to throw you the other way--like this!"
With a heave Marvin sent Steve toppling backward, much to that youth's
surprise. Marvin jumped lightly to his feet, held out a hand to the
other and pulled him up.
"See how it's done?" he asked cheerfully. "Now you try it. Never mind
diving; just drop where you are on your hip. That's it! Swing your arms
around tight! Higher up, though. Remember if you're playing end the
rules prohibit you from tackling a runner below the knees. That's
better. Now, then, over with me!"
But it wasn't so easy. Marvin, smuggling an imaginary ball in his arms,
struggled and twisted and it was all Steve could do to keep him from
gaining ground, to say nothing of throwing him back.
[Illustration: "Lift!" instructed the quarter-back. "Lift me up and yank
my feet out from under me! Use your weight and throw me back!"]
"Lift!" instructed the quarter-back. "Lift me up and yank my feet out
from under me! Use your weight and throw me back!"
But in trying to lift the other, Steve allowed Marvin to slip past him
and the quarter fell forward instead of backward.
"Try again," said Marvin. "It's got to be all one motion, so to say,
Edwards. Get your man, wrap your arms around him and heave. Sometimes
you can't do better than stop him. If he's coming hard, you won't be
able to put him back. He's got to be more or less erect to make that go.
But do it whenever you can. Now, then, once more! Down you go! That's
the stuff! Bully work! Don't be afraid of hurting me! _Put me back!_"
Steve actually did it that time and was so pleased that he was grinning
all over his face when Marvin scrambled to his feet again.
"That was a lot better. Once get the idea fixed in your head, Edwards,
and it'll come easy. You'll do it without a thought. Once more now, and
put some ginger into it. Here I come!"
Marvin walked a couple of steps forward, Steve dropped and gripped his
knees, heaved and over went the quarter. A dozen times Marvin made him
practise it, and then,
"All right," he said. "Now I'm going to run toward you, Edwards. I'm
going to get by you if I can, too. You've got to do your best to stop
me. Don't try any flying tackles, and remember that you've got to have
one foot on the ground when you get me. All right now!"
Steve was glad they had the gridiron practically to themselves, for he
cut a poor figure the first three times that he tried to reach the
elusive quarter-back. Once Marvin caught him with a straight arm and
sent him toppling out of his path, once Marvin dodged him completely,
twirling on one heel and darting past him beyond reach, and once the
little quarter-back wrenched himself loose after being tackled. But the
fourth time Steve was more successful, and after that he reached the
runner every time even if he didn't always stop him short. Even when
Steve had his arms gripped tightly about Marvin's knees, the latter was
almost always able to somehow make another yard or two before he was
willing to call "Down!" But Steve learned more in that half-hour than he
had learned all the season, and when, after awhile, the two boys,
panting and perspiring but satisfied with themselves, walked back to the
gymnasium, Steve had the grace to thank Marvin.
"That's all right," replied the other. "I knew you could play the game,
Edwards, if you could once get the hang of making a decent tackle. And I
knew, too, that the trouble with you was that you'd just sort of made up
your mind that you couldn't learn, that you didn't understand what I've
been trying to show you. There won't be any third squad after the middle
of the week, Edwards, and if you hadn't shown something more than
you've been showing in the tackling line I couldn't conscientiously have
sent you up to the second."
"That was mighty decent," muttered Steve.
"Well, you mustn't take it as a personal favour, Edwards," answered
Marvin with a smile, "although I'm glad to do it for you. You see, I
don't want to let any good material get away. And I think you are good
material, and if there was any possibility of your being of use to the
second squad I wanted to get you there. Now, to-morrow we'll have
another go at it, and the next day too, and every day until you can
tackle a runner as well as you can handle a ball or play in the line. Is
that a bargain?"
"Yes," replied Steve heartily. "And thanks, Marvin."