JIMMY’S DAY
True to his word, Steve Gaston used Russell more gingerly on Tuesday,
and Russell, who was still aching in many places, was grateful. Just
the same, he was not entirely satisfied when, after a twenty-minute
practice line-up between the two scrub squads, the second crossed the
field to the first team gridiron and he made the discovery that it was
Tierney who was to play right end. It takes more than a few pains to
reconcile your enthusiastic football player to the bench--or, in this
case, the sod. And yesterday’s short taste of the game had reawakened
all of Russell’s old ardor. But he wasn’t to be quite neglected, for
in the middle of the second twelve-minute period of battle Tierney was
laid low, with every bit of breath eliminated from his body, and Gaston
sent a quick call across the field for Russell. Back in the game,
facing the redoubtable Captain Proctor or warily watching Crocker,
at left end on the enemy team, Russell forgot his aches and entered
lustily into the fray. Crocker proved a troublesome opponent that
afternoon, for the first was trying out a “bunch forward” in which,
when the play was made to the left, Crocker and Harmon and Browne
participated, or sought to. Russell, aided by Reilly, had an anxious
and breathless time of it. It is to their credit, though, that the
“bunch” succeeded but twice and then on the other side of the field.
First scored but once to-day, and only after a blocked kick on the
scrub’s thirty-six yards, when Putney, the first team right tackle,
grabbed up the bouncing pigskin and marvelously dashed through half
the enemy forces and planted it behind the line. The second had two
tries at goal from the field, and Kendall missed both. On the whole,
however, the second was fairly well satisfied with the afternoon, and
even Gaston looked as though he spied a glint of hope in the clouds of
adversity.
That evening Russell’s thoughts turned wistfully toward a nice clean
cot in the school infirmary, and every time he moved he groaned either
in spirit or very audibly, depending on whether or not he was alone.
Yet life held its cheering aspects, for Stick had jubilantly reported
three sales during the afternoon, which, combined with Jimmy’s sale
of the tennis racket, brought the day’s business up to the colossal
sum of thirteen dollars and eighty-three cents, a sum hitherto never
even approached. Jimmy came in after supper and the three talked the
matter over in detail and with much enthusiasm. Stick forgot to be
pessimistic and swung to the other extreme. His sales had been to high
school fellows, and he had discovered that there were two hundred and
twenty-two of them in this year’s enrollment and proceeded to prove, to
his own satisfaction at least, that the high school students were due
to enrich the firm of Emerson and Patterson to the tune of one dollar
and eighty-seven cents, net, every day until the middle of next June.
“I guess,” said Russell when that fact had been thoroughly demonstrated
by the very earnest Stick, “that that advertisement we put in the high
school paper fetched those fellows. It might be a good plan to keep it
running.”
But Stick didn’t see that. Advertising cost a heap of money, and now
that the ball had been started rolling there wasn’t any sense in going
on with it. “Those fellows will tell other fellows,” he asserted, “and
that’s the best sort of advertising there is.”
“We are advertised by our loving friends,” quoted Jimmy.
Russell agreed to discontinue the high school advertisement, but he was
firm for going on with the one in _The Doubleay_, and Stick dubiously
agreed to that wasteful course. Jimmy described once more with great
gusto the details concerning the sale of the tennis racket--they
laughingly referred to it as “the” racket, since it had been the only
one in stock--and predicted that much trade would accrue from Mount
Millard School as a result of his brilliant acumen.
“We might,” began Russell, “put an ad. in their paper--” But Stick’s
unhappy frown cut him short, and he dropped the subject and turned
back to Jimmy. “You keep talking about six and a quarter,” he said
perplexedly. “You mean six and a half, don’t you?”
“Eh? Oh, the price of it! Yes, yes, six and a half. I was thinking
about the discount, I guess.”
“But the discount brought it to five-eighty-five.”
“Yes, well--you see, I’m an awful ass at figures,” answered Jimmy
desperately. Not for worlds would he have had Russell know that he had
mulcted himself of that twenty-three cents!
“Well, I don’t know what you think about it, Stick,” said Russell, “but
I believe Jimmy has brought us luck!”
And Stick, rather unwillingly, agreed.
And as time went on that conviction strengthened with Russell. By
the end of that week business had picked up enormously at the Sign
of the Football. There had come a letter from Mount Millard ordering
“one of those rakets like George Titus bought from you resently,” and
as the money was enclosed Russell didn’t find it incumbent on him to
criticize the spelling. High school boys were frequent visitors in the
afternoons. They didn’t always buy, but those who didn’t spread the
news and others came in their places. Another football had found its
way to the Academy, and more and more Altonians were learning to enter
under the alluring sign rather than to proceed a few doors further to
the more pretentious House of Crocker. All this was vastly cheering
to Russell and to Stick, and hardly less so to Jimmy, who, if not one
of the firm, was nevertheless fully as interested in the success of
the business as either of the others. Sid Greenwood had dropped in one
morning when Russell was there and had looked and talked and pored over
catalogues, and it was already an assured fact that the Sign of the
Football was to have the patronage of the Basket Ball Team. And Bob
Coolidge had broadly hinted but a few days later that it would be a
good plan for Russell to put in a few sample hockey sticks and skates
and so on; and Russell had duly ordered. Ordering was a regular daily
performance now. Fellows were very good-natured about waiting a day or
so, which was certainly fortunate, for only occasionally as yet did the
store have just what was wanted! Russell or Stick or Jimmy would open
an empty box, out of sight of the customer, frown, put it back, open a
second and then shake his head. “Sorry, but we haven’t your size,” he
would announce apologetically, or, “We’ve sold the last one.” Always,
though, such a remark was invariably followed promptly by a reassuring:
“They’re on order and will be along to-morrow. If you don’t mind
dropping in about half-past four it’ll be here.” The New York train
that carried the noon mail and express reached Alton at four. It took
only fifteen or twenty minutes to get the goods from the post office or
express company, and at four-thirty the customer went away contentedly.
There was a slim black-covered book behind the counter and into this
the orders went, and some time before six o’clock Russell would take
himself to the telephone office and call up the New York dealer. Seldom
did the dealer disappoint him.
Money was coming in now, but money was also going out, and the balance
in the firm’s name at the bank was growing very slowly. Stick frowned
often and darkly at the size of the orders that were despatched to the
city and still more darkly at the checks drawn in settlement for them.
But even Stick’s economical brain couldn’t find any way of selling
goods without ordering them or of ordering them without ultimately
paying for them. Meanwhile Jimmy was becoming a salesman of ability, to
say nothing of poise. Jimmy had a way of selling a nose-guard as though
it were a diamond set in platinum, and no purchaser of so small an item
as a tennis ball went away without feeling that he had been treated
like a person of importance and had somehow unintentionally managed to
get the best of the transaction.
Russell’s aches left him gradually and by the end of that week he
had fairly beaten out Tierney for the position at the right end of
the second team line. The first team found their daily opponent a
harder and harder proposition, and on Friday, for the first time, the
scrimmage ended without a score for either side. To be sure, only one
twelve-minute period was played, but even so--
The big team made its first trip away from home the next day and played
Lorimer Academy. Lorimer had last year held Alton to a 3 to 3 tie,
and an easy contest was neither expected nor found. At the end of the
first half the opponents were even, with a touchdown and goal each. In
spite of the story told by the score, Alton had showed rather better
work, and the ball had, save for one brief and regrettable period,
remained in Lorimer territory. The regrettable period had occurred at
the beginning of the game, when, receiving the ball on the kick-off,
Lorimer had brought it back to Alton’s forty-one yards. That unexpected
feat had quite nonplused the visitors and during the next series of
plays they showed that it had, for two gains had been made through
the left of their line for a first down on the thirty-yard line. From
there, following an attempt at Putney that yielded a scant stride,
Lorimer threw forward to the fifteen-yard line where an unwatched
half-back caught and, although chased down by Harley McLeod, managed to
fall across the last line mark just inside the boundary. There was some
discussion as to whether the runner had not gone out before he got the
ball over, but the officials gave him the benefit of the doubt. Lorimer
kicked the goal easily.
After that Alton had pulled herself together, quickly wrested the
pigskin from the enemy and taken the offensive. There was, though, no
score for her until the second period was well along. Then a long,
hard march from the center of the field to Lorimer’s eighteen yards
culminated in a series of smashing attacks on the enemy’s left by
Harmon and Moncks, and on the seventh play the ball went over. Captain
Proctor kicked the goal.
When the third quarter started Lorimer showed the benefit of the
rest and, possibly, of the coach’s tuition. She kicked off to the
Gray-and-Gold and her ends spilled Ned Richards on his ten-yard line.
After two running plays that failed to advance, Alton punted to
Lorimer’s forty. Lorimer pulled a trick play that went for twelve yards
around the opponent’s left end. A jab at the center was wasted and her
quarter punted diagonally to Alton’s eight yards where Harmon gathered
in the ball but was forced outside after a few strides. The pigskin
was too near home for comfort, and Ned Richards stepped aside in favor
of Browne on second down and Browne punted to midfield. Again Lorimer
tried a quarter-back kick and again gained. Ned Richards, waiting for
the ball to bound over the goal line for a touchback, saw it change
its mind erratically and start back up the field. He fell on it finally
near the five-yard line, with, by that time, most of the Lorimer
forwards hovering about him.
Alton decided to kick on first down, and Browne stepped back behind the
goal posts. Nichols passed low and the full-back punt was necessarily
hurried. The ball sailed high in the air and descended near the
twenty-yard line, and the Lorimer back who caught it very carefully
stepped outside, since there was no chance for an advance. The pigskin
was stepped in and Lorimer found herself in the fortunate position of
being in possession of the ball on first down on the enemy’s nineteen
yards. A fake attack to the left, with left half running to the right
took the ball to the center of the field, although for no gain. Lorimer
prepared for a placement kick from close to the thirty yards, but the
pigskin was taken by quarter through Stimson for two. Again, on third
down, the same preparations were carefully gone through with, and this
time the ball went back to the kicker, instead of the holder, and then
was hurled through the air to where, one foot over the goal line, an
end had stationed himself. It was a pretty pass, well concealed, well
thrown and well caught, and although Harmon brought down the catcher
promptly the touchdown was accomplished. Again Lorimer kicked the goal.
Alton was chagrined and rather angry. It was very evident that, since
her defense against the opponent’s forward passing game was not good
enough, the opponent must not be allowed again within scoring distance
of the goal. It was extremely trying, extremely exasperating to be
twice scored on by a team who was plainly unable to gain consistently
by rushing! Coach Cade seized the interim following the goal to remove
Crocker from left end and to substitute Rhame and to put Johnson at
right tackle in place of Putney who was showing the battle. The third
period ended in a punting duel between Browne, for Alton, and Snow, for
Lorimer, and when the teams changed sides it was Alton’s ball on her
thirty-four yards.
There was then a slight advantage in the possession of the south
goal, for a breeze had arisen since the beginning of the half and was
blowing, at moments quite strongly, toward the other end of the field.
Austen had replaced Harmon, and to Jimmy was handed the task of using
that breeze to work the team’s way inside the enemy’s first defenses.
As a prelude, Moncks took the ball and managed to batter through left
guard for four yards. Then Jimmy punted and, getting height, saw the
breeze take a hand in his effort and add a good ten yards to the kick.
Rhame was on the catcher almost before the ball had landed in his arms.
Lorimer tried two attempts outside tackle and then punted in turn.
But Alton had gained nearly ten yards on the exchange, and, after a
first down that netted barely a yard gain, Jimmy again stepped back
and, the Gray-and-Gold line holding well, punted with his customary
deliberateness and again got more than fifty yards. This time Lorimer
ran the pigskin back across one white line before she was stopped.
Lorimer recognized the futility of pitting her punter against Alton’s
in the circumstances, but, with her back to her goal, there was no help
for it after two desperate rushes had been stopped for five yards, and
again the ball sailed off. This time the kick was weak and Appel, who
had just relieved Richards, caught it on Lorimer’s forty-seven yards
and, feinting and twirling, cut across the field with it, found open
territory for a moment and sped along to the thirty-five before his
meteoric career was stopped.
That proved the result that Alton had sought. From the thirty-five
yards to the twenty she went in four rushes. There she was slowed up
and a short forward pass, Browne to McLeod, was used as a last resort
and did the business. After that, with a small coterie of devoted
Altonians begging for a touchdown, the result was not long in doubt.
Still smarting over her indignities, Alton hammered and thrust, and,
reaching the six yards in two downs, hurled Moncks past left tackle for
half the remaining distance and then literally piled through the center
of the Lorimer line and deposited Appel and the ball well over the last
mark.
Unfortunately, Mart Proctor missed the goal miserably, and the handful
of Alton supporters groaned. Lorimer was still one point ahead and
the time was getting short. Captain Proctor gave way to Butler and
Linthicum went in for Browne. During the remaining minutes several more
changes were made in the Alton line-up, so that when the last whistle
blew the Gray-and-Gold presented a thoroughly second-string appearance.
Lorimer fought for time now, fought to keep the opponent away from
scoring territory, punting even on first down and against that breeze.
But she didn’t have many chances to put boot leather to pigskin, for
Alton was through with the kicking game. Lorimer was beatable by surer
methods, and Alton returned to rushing. Twice her backs got almost
free around the Lorimer ends and once Linthicum found a barn-door
opening in the center and staggered through for twelve yards. With the
time-keeper’s watch showing something less than two minutes left, the
ball was Alton’s on the home team’s thirty-six. Appel held a whispered
conference with Rowlandson, who had succeeded to the captaincy, and
then sprung a surprise. Linthicum was sent back to kicking position
and, since a field-goal would win the game for Alton, Lorimer never
doubted that, with the time nearly up, a drop-kick would follow. But
Jimmy Austen got the ball when it left center and Jimmy found as many
holes in front of him as there are in a sieve and proceeded to ooze
through one of them. And, being through, he kept right on oozing, just
how no one, least of all Jimmy, could have afterwards told. But he
oozed faster and faster. In fact, the ooze became a trickle and then a
spurt, and, escaping a tackle here and dodging an enemy there, turning,
twisting, as elusive as a drop of quicksilver, Jimmy somehow kept going
straight for the goal and somehow got there, got there without having
been once tackled, got there through the whole enemy team and with
never a bit of aid from his own side! And, having got there, Jimmy
put the ball down, hunched his shoulders and philosophically and even
smilingly bore the useless onslaught of the infuriated enemy.
It didn’t matter that Rowlandson missed the goal. No one expected him
to make it, certainly not Rowlandson, for he was no goal expert and, as
he put it, became the goat only for lack of some one better qualified.
He managed to send the ball between the posts, but only because the
line of discouraged opponents hadn’t enough interest left to put up a
hand and stop it!
There was one more kick-off and four more plays, and then the game was
over. Every fellow loves a hero, and so, for quite a week, Jimmy Austen
wore the laurels. And doubtless he deserved them, although, as Jimmy
explained often enough during the next forty-eight hours, no one but a
cripple could have failed to make that touchdown! “Their old line was
full of holes,” said Jimmy. “They were all set for a try-at-goal and
came pouring through as soon as the ball was off. All I had to do was
hug the old turnip and let ’em by. Then I side-stepped a couple and
took it across. There’s no sense in making a fuss about it!”
But they did--for a while. In football there’s a new hero, of larger or
smaller caliber, every week or so, and Jimmy’s fame only lived until
the Hillsport game the following Saturday, when Ned Richards sprinted
sixty-odd yards for the score that evened up matters in the third
period and turned what looked horribly like defeat into a 6 to 6 tie.