Produced by Al Haines
[Transcriber's note: Extensive research found no evidence
that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
OVER THE LINE
_BY_
HAROLD M. SHERMAN
_Author of_
One Minute to Play
Touchdown!
Hit by Pitcher
Bases Full, Etc.
The Goldsmith Publishing Co.
Cleveland, Ohio
COPYRIGHT 1929, BY
THE GOLDSMITH PUBLISHING CO.
INTRODUCTION
When a new fellow moves into the neighborhood, you look him over,
strike up an acquaintance and sort of go around with him, but not until
he shows the sort of stuff he's made of do you take him into the gang
and make a real pal of him, or else let him alone, as the case may be.
It's somewhat the same with a new book. You look through it, read it
and if it's good stuff, the author, like the new chap in the
neighborhood, becomes one of the gang. And when such an author keeps
on producing sure fire stuff, like Harold M. Sherman has been doing,
there is no doubt at all that his books will be read.
This book deals with the mental hazard that has been the downfall of so
many chaps. But Judd Billings overcomes his obstacle while still at
high school and how he later makes a name for himself at college, makes
this a book that will be instantly liked by all who read it. In fact,
all one need say is that it is a Harold M. Sherman book.
J. D. V.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I THE STRANGE CONTRACT
II JUDD GRITS HIS TEETH
III A KICKER Is DISCOVERED
IV FIGHTING SPIRIT
V FOR A SCRAP OF PAPER
VI ILL NEWS AND A NEW ARRIVAL
VII THE FIRST NIGHT
VIII JUDD PRACTICES FOOTBALL
IX AT THE FAIR
X THE ATTEMPTED HOLD-UP
XI BENZ BROODS
XII ONE KIND OF LOYALTY
XIII AN IMPRACTICAL JOKE
XIV THE CONFESSION
XV JUDD GAINS A PROMOTION
XVI BEFORE THE GAME
XVII THE FIRST HALF
XVIII THE SECOND HALF
CHAPTER I
THE STRANGE CONTRACT
"Judd, I'd rather a fellow would be anything else but a quitter!"
Judd jumped to his feet, eyes blazing.
"I'm not a quitter ... but I'm not gonna go back to school!"
Bob Billings, older brother, stared for a moment, unanswering. Judd
had come on to the city to visit him during summer vacation. Since the
father's death and Bob's attending Bartlett College, there had been
little chance for the two to be together, especially with Bob employed
in the Star Sporting Goods store, miles away from Trumbull, the little
town near which the Billings family lived.
"You've got to get a hold on yourself," Bob said, finally, "I'd no idea
you'd gotten this way. You're babying yourself out of everything you'd
really like to do. And here I'd counted on your taking up on that
Trumbull High team where I left off! No reason why you couldn't either
... you've got a much better physique than I have. That work on our
farm has given you the muscles of an ox. You've got a grip in those
hands that would make most fellows yell for help. Only trouble with
you is--you don't know your own strength and you're afraid to use it.
Right now a much smaller guy could tie you into bow knots!"
Judd's face flushed. He had a great deal of respect for his older
brother, Bob. It was Bob who had written the greatest athletic page in
Trumbull High history by his feats in baseball, football and track.
And then, when the war had broken out, it was Bob who had enlisted in
the air service and come back from abroad with the Croix de Guerre and
a distinguished service medal with several citations for bravery. And
now, as a senior at Bartlett College, it was Bob who was heralded as
the outstanding member of the football team. Yes--there was no
question about it--Bob was a _he_ man!
To follow in the footsteps of such a brother was indeed an honor--or
was it a hardship? When Judd Billings had entered high school the
students looked upon him with expectant awe. Wasn't he the brother of
the great Bob Billings? Surely he would carry on the tradition of the
family. More great things would be forthcoming. Judd's big-boned,
awkward frame was pointed out with high glee. He was a trifle taller
and pounds heavier than Bob had been. What might this mean when he got
under way? Give him time and then look for some more records to be
broken!
But those who prophesied big things for Judd did not take the matter of
temperament into consideration. Judd was as different from Bob as
Saturday was from Sunday. It did not take the students long to
discover that he was unusually shy and self-conscious. Judd would
almost jump at his own shadow. He avoided crowds and made friends
slowly. As for competition, he apparently detested it, retracing his
steps rather than encounter physical conflict. And so, when he might
have been the idol of the entire school, Judd soon became the object of
disgust.
"My eyes!" he would offer as excuse for his not taking up with sports.
It was true that he had had some trouble with his eyes but townspeople
shook their heads and said wisely that Judd's eyes were only serving as
his alibi. The trouble was more deep-rooted than that.
"I'll tell you what's wrong with Judd!" explained old Mr. Bailey,
proprietor of the Trumbull General Store, "I used to know his Dad, Jim
Billings. He was a steady customer of mine up to the time of his death
and some man he was, too! As husky a farmer as I ever see! He didn't
have any use for mollycoddles and he brought his oldest boy, Bob, up to
fight his own battles, not wasting any sympathy on him. But Judd came
along seven years after Bob and he missed out on old Jim's
disciplinin'. With the father dead, Judd came under his mother's care
and Mrs. Billings has sure put her boy on the toboggan. You see she's
so nervous and scarey that she imagines terrible things are going to
happen to everybody. She hasn't let Judd go skating on the bay for
fear the ice might break. She's against his going into sports because
he might get injured. She's made a hothouse plant out of that big,
strapping fellow and I say it's a cryin' shame because Judd's got the
same stuff in him his father was made of if he could only get it out.
Wish Judd could be around Bob for awhile. That's the kind of
association he needs!"
Mrs. Billings, well meaning though she had been, realized finally that
something must be done about Judd. Her anxious attention had been
divided between him and the operation of the farm. Hank Duncan, Jim
Billings' hired man, had taken charge of the place with Jim's passing,
Mrs. Billings insisting that Bob secure the college education which he
had planned before going into service.
"I can't understand what is the matter with Judd," she wrote her older
son early in June, "I've tried to give him every opportunity and to do
everything for him I thought best, but he has just failed in one
subject and was barely conditioned in two others. He is so discouraged
that he says he's not going to continue in high school. He wants to
find a job and get to work. What would you advise?"
Bob, on receipt of this letter, had thought matters over carefully ...
gravely. Just half a block from the small bachelor apartment he
occupied was a spacious city park with baseball diamonds, a football
field and tennis courts. It had been his habit to keep in trim for
football season by working out in the park during the summer. If he
could get Judd to spend the summer with him he would do what he could
to make him over.
The temptation to accept Bob's invitation had been too great for Judd
to refuse. He was mortally sick of his associations at Trumbull.
Every place he went reminded him of some failure he had made. He was
looked down upon by fellows his own age. Few ever taunted him openly.
Judd felt that this was out of respect for the fact that he was the
brother of the great Bob. Just why he should be different than the
other fellows was something he couldn't figure out and his humiliation
at failing in his school work had caused him to feel that he could
never face his schoolmates again.
Seeing how set Judd was against returning to school, Bob wisely
refrained from forcing the issue. He was glad that Judd had instantly
reacted to the charge of "quitter." As long as a fellow had the fight
spirit in him there was some hope.
"I'm going out for a little workout with the football tonight," Bob
informed, "Got to keep in training, you know. Like to come out and
chase the ball for me?"
Judd consented begrudgingly but, before Bob's practice was over, he
began to betray genuine interest. Bob showed him how to throw the
pigskin and he found it great fun to lay the ball on his hand and sail
it through the air in spiral flight after recovering Bob's kicks.
"Say, Judd!" Bob called, "You might get down the field and catch these
punts. It'll save you chasing them after they strike."
Judd moved slowly to the place Bob indicated, not wanting to reveal his
growing interest too plainly. Bob kicked. The ball, turning end over
end, carried almost exactly to the place Judd was standing. He moved a
few steps to the side and reached up his arms but his judgment of
distance was poor. The ball struck him a smarting blow in the face and
bounced away. Judd, over-balanced, fell to the ground.
Bob trotted up to Judd and dragged him to his feet.
"What's the matter, Buddy?"
Judd showed him the spot over his eye, a slight skin bruise.
"Oh, why that's nothing. Come on, let's try another." Bob picked up
the ball.
"No ... see ... it's bleeding." Judd displayed some drops of blood on
his handkerchief. "I reckon I'd better go to the room and sterilize
it, I don't want to get blood poisoning, you know."
Bob laughed. "Tommy rot! Whoever gave you such silly ideas? Forget
it!"
Judd's feelings were wounded. "You can't tell what'll happen if you
don't take care of yourself. I heard of a fellah once..."
"See here, Judd! Get those wild imaginings out of your head. How far
do you think we'd get in this world if every time a little thing
happened to us we sat down to worry about it and to think up lots worse
things happening?"
But Judd was done for the afternoon. He turned and walked away,
dabbing his handkerchief tenderly to the bruise and sympathizing with
himself. He should have known better than to have played with Bob. He
might have been sure that something like this would happen. There were
so many things that a fellow had to watch out for! But after Judd had
reached the apartment and looked at himself in the glass and been
convinced that his hurt did not amount to so much after all, he
reflected--with a smile--that chasing the football had been real sport.
The next time Judd accompanied Bob to the park the great Bob taught him
how to stand and how to hold his hands in catching a punt. At first
Judd was a bit reluctant to get in the path of a twisting football
again but he gradually overcame this fear and found, to his delight,
that he could catch some of the longest punts with ease. Bob was
kicking the ball forty and fifty yards at a kick and most of the punts
Judd had to run in order to get under. After a particularly long
chase, in which Judd reached up and just managed to catch the ball on
the tips of his fingers, Bob shouted from down the field: "That's the
pep! Great stuff, Buddy!"
Judd no longer tried to disguise his interest in football. He was
enjoying these practice sessions hugely. He got so that he looked
forward to them. Bob loaned him a part of an old football suit so that
they could rough it up more, as he said. Judd wondered, a bit
guiltily, what his mother would say if she knew what he was doing.
Gradually Bob taught Judd the fundamentals of the game. He did it in
an off-hand way so that Judd would not anticipate the reason. Judd had
said no more about getting a job but Bob had noticed his brother
scanning the want-ads in the paper. He smiled as he noted little
evidences that Judd was developing more initiative. Perhaps he might
even get enough courage to go out and apply for a job himself!
The weather grew almost unbearably hot as July neared August. But Bob
told Judd that perspiration was good for him so they continued to work
out on such late afternoons as Bob could get away.
One afternoon Bob said to Judd: "You're learning football pretty fast,
Buddy. You've been booting that ball for thirty to forty yards every
kick; your passing is good and you can grab almost every ball you get
your hands on. Now let's see how good you are at tackling. I'm going
to take the ball and run right at you. It's up to you to down me."
Judd did not take kindly to this idea. It was different, just playing
with a football and not having anyone to interfere with you. But this
stopping of a man when he was running by grabbing him and hanging on
until you brought him to the ground was no fun. What if? ... and a
dozen visions of possible happenings flashed across Judd's mind.
"I--I--not today," said Judd, hoping that Bob would not push the
suggestion.
"Come on. There's nothing going to hurt you!" Bob trotted down the
field fifteen yards. He turned about and crouched forward, ready to
start. "Look out! Here I come!"
The sight of Bob coming toward him terrified Judd. It seemed that
Bob's knees were moving up past his head and his feet were digging the
turf in a plunging drive. As Bob neared him Judd quickly side-stepped
and avoided contact with him. Bob cut into the sod with his feet and
swung around in a half-circle, bringing up short. "What's the matter?
Afraid?"
Judd didn't answer. He was scared stiff. He wanted to run. Why, if
he had not stepped out of the way he might have suffered serious
injury! Who could stop a charging pair of feet and a bullet-like head?
Besides, in such moments, Judd was conscious that he was facing the
great Bob instead of just his brother. He felt his own insignificance.
"Judd, there's no more likelihood of anything happening to you here
than any place else. It's all a matter of knowing how and then it's
just as easy as catching a football. It looks hard only to those who
have not learned. Let me show you." And Bob demonstrated to Judd the
correct way to tackle.
"I'll not run hard the first few times," said Bob, considerately, "Just
try it out."
Judd was trembling. His knees seemed weak. He was trying to tell
himself that he was not afraid. He knew that what his brother had told
him was so but he dreaded physical contact. Bob did not give him much
time for reflection. He was coming at him again!
Judd did not wish to appear a coward in the eyes of Bob. He was almost
as afraid not to tackle as he was to tackle. While he was trying to
make up his mind Bob was upon him and Judd made a wild clutching dive
forward. His arms closed about Bob's legs at a point midway between
the hips and the knees, there was a jolting impact and the ground
seemed to rise to hit him. Judd sat up to take stock of his injuries.
He found, to his pleased surprise, that he was unhurt.
"Bully work!" complimented Bob, warmly, "Your first tackle was a peach!"
Judd felt his courage and self-confidence rise like the mercury in a
thermometer. He was finding out that many of his old fears had been
groundless. Bob ran straight at Judd a dozen times and each time Judd
brought him to the ground.
"All right, Buddy. Now I'm going to get by you. I'm not going to use
the straight arm. I'll show you about that later. But I'm coming at
you like an express train. Try to stop me if you can!"
There was a challenge in Bob's words. Judd sensed his first big thrill
of competition. Bob said he was coming through. Well, he was going to
stop him!
Bob ran at Judd viciously and with all the speed at his command. Judd
came forward to meet him. He saw two clock-like legs and a body bent
close to the ground. He dove low in order to reach him. Then it
seemed as if a dozen knees struck him thudding blows in the face. He
felt himself being dragged along the ground. His hold on the one foot
loosened. He hit the ground heavily and was dimly conscious of feet
pounding the earth. Bob had gone through!
It was such experiences as this that sickened Judd. All the pleasure
of football was gone for him now. He had a bump over one eye and a
patch of skin off his chin. There was no answering spirit of fight.
Judd lay where he had fallen.
Bob waited, hoping that Judd would show the spunk to get up. He had
subjected his younger brother to rough treatment but he had done it for
a purpose.
"I'm sorry, Buddy. You tackled too low ... and you didn't hang on
tight enough after you grabbed me. You see, I kept on going and I got
away from you."
Judd raised up, dazedly. He was not interested in why he had failed to
stop Bob. He was concerned over the bumping he had received.
"Am I--am I hurt very bad?" he asked, tremulously.
Bob laughed. "Not bad enough to mention," he said, "You'll stop me
next time, eh Buddy?"
Judd shook his head.
"No ... there's not gonna be any next time, I--I'm through."
Bob knew better than to argue with him when he felt this way. He
picked up the football and walked off the field. Judd gladly followed.
Several days later, when Bob returned from work, he noticed that Judd
was red-eyed. On the table lay some newspaper clippings. They were
want ads.
"Well, what did you do today?" asked Bob, casually.
"I--I was out looking for work."
Bob whistled. "Well! Did you find anything?"
"No."
"Oh, I see--you answered these ads here--may I look them over?"
Judd nodded his consent.
"H-h-hm! Maxwell's! That's a good place. 'Clerk wanted. Young man
preferred. No experience necessary. Good opportunity for
advancement.' What did they say when you applied?"
Judd was silent. Bob waited an appreciable moment for him to reply.
"Did some other fellow beat you to the place?"
Judd found his voice. "N-no--but--but they wanted a young man who had
at least a high-school education."
Bob had a wave of sympathy for his younger brother. "But here's
another good place, Buddy. Jackson and Ballard's! You've picked some
good ones. 'Filing clerk wanted. We teach you our system. Young man
with ambition to get ahead in our line of work desired.' How about
this?"
Judd hesitated. "They seemed interested. Then they asked me how much
education I'd had. They said they wanted some one that they could send
right on up as soon as he got to know the business. They said it was
their experience that fellows with high school educations were better
fitted for the work...."
Bob was glad that Judd had had this experience. He knew that there
were plenty of places that Judd could get work but the better
institutions where opportunities for real advancement were greatest
almost demanded that a young man's qualifications include a reasonable
amount of education.
"Well ... buck up, Buddy. There's always a way out and you're young
yet!"
Tears came anew to Judd's eyes. He turned away from Bob, ashamed.
"Why--Buddy--what's the matter?"
"I--I didn't know I could feel this way."
"How do you feel?"
"I--I dunno. I guess I'm homesick."
Bob's eyes blurred. He himself had scarcely been back to Trumbull for
three years.
"Well, you'll soon be back, Buddy ... with mother. Summer vacation is
about over. I expect she's missed you a lot too. She's tried to do
the very best she knew how for you.... Perhaps I can come up later and
... and see you play football."
Judd started. Bob almost regretted that he had taken the liberty to
make this suggestion. He had tried to do it casually as if playing
football would be the natural thing for Judd to do. And he had not
mentioned school although to play football would imply attending
school. Judd looked at Bob sharply. His emotions were conflicting.
He would like to do so many things if...
"But mother wouldn't hear to my playin'," objected Judd at last. This
seemed the most logical excuse he could think of. "Anyhow, I am not
goin' back to school." This came as an after thought.
"Well ... I'm glad you are going back to Trumbull any way," replied
Bob, "I think you will be able to take better care of yourself." There
were lots of things he would like to have said to Judd but Bob somehow
did not feel that it would be wise. Judd must be allowed to think
things out for himself.
When the morning arrived for Judd's departure, Bob who had to go on to
work, bade his younger brother good-bye at the apartment.
"I'm leaving you a contract, Buddy, and a little note. As soon as I've
gone I want you to read them. If, after thinking it over, you are
willing to sign the contract, leave the duplicate for me on the table.
I want you to know that whatever you do I'm for you. You're going to
make good as soon as you forget yourself. You'll understand what I
mean some day. Good-bye. Tell mother I'll get up to see her this fall
sure. Good luck!"
Judd sat wonderingly, holding the folded slips of paper that Bob had
placed in his hand. What did Bob mean by the word "Contract?" Why
should his brother leave him a note? Why couldn't he tell him what he
wanted to without putting it on paper? This was a funny way of doing
things!
He opened the note and read: "Dear Buddy--It's easier to tell you what
I have in mind on paper than it is face to face. And I think you will
realize it when you have read what I have to say. The contract I have
drawn up is to be strictly between you and me. No one else is to see
it or know anything about it. I think that it will help you to agree
to do certain things for awhile until you can get yourself to agree to
do them without any outside influence. There will be times when you
will have to make yourself go through experiences distasteful to you.
But you will come out bigger and better for them. The keeping of this
contract is strictly a matter of honor so if you do not intend to live
up to it, do not be dishonest with yourself by signing it. I'm sorry
that I can't be with you. But it's distinctly your fight. You're the
one who has to face the music and about all anyone else could do would
be to offer encouragement or advice. You'll have to make the decisions
and do the acting. I'd like to see you go back to school and go out
for football. I think you could make the team. And some day, when you
break loose, you will astonish yourself. You've got a fine physique.
There's nothing weak about you. Most of your troubles are in your
mind. Come on, Buddy, let's see you make a whirlwind comeback. You
can do it!"
Judd read the note over three times before he laid it down and gave his
earnest attention to the contract. The contract was brief but stern in
its requirements. It read:
I, the undersigned, do hereby agree, being bound by my honor, to live
up to the following declarations to wit:
1. I will not "baby" myself at any time and under any provocation.
2. Whatever happens to me I will grin and bear it.
3. If I meet with failure in anything I am trying to do I will not
cease trying nor lose faith in myself. Rather will I make a greater
effort than before to succeed.
4. I will pay no attention to what others may think or say of me. I
will let nothing keep me from doing what I know is right.
5. In the event that I do not live up to this contract I will write
and tell my brother, Bob Billings, of the specific instances.
6. When I feel inclined not to do what I feel to be right, I will take
out this contract and read it over until I have renewed my spirit and
developed a determination strong enough to go ahead.
This contract signed by me in good faith and with the knowledge that
the penalty for breaking same will be exacted in the doing.
................
My Signature.
As Judd read the contract, which had been typed in duplicate by Bob at
the office, he suddenly began to realize some of his shortcomings of
the past and the reasons for them. He studied the contract for half an
hour. Then he went to the table drawer, took out pen and ink, and
scribbled his name on the line left for his signature.
Judd felt like he had won a great victory as he locked the apartment
door, and jumped the streetcar for the depot. He could hardly wait to
get back to Trumbull ... and to re-enter school!
Mrs. Billings was overjoyed that Judd had decided to return to school
but she was rather alarmed at a change which she discerned in him.
There was a more determined look about his face--a look that told her
Judd was going to do some things which he had never attempted to do
before and Mrs. Billings was not quite certain what the outcome would
be.
When school opened, the schoolmates noticed the change too. They
didn't know what it meant but they did know that Judd walked with his
head erect, there was a surer swing to his steps, and he looked folks
straight in the eye. Judd was silent. His jaws were set tight. No
one sensed the fight that was going on within--no one realized that
every move Judd made was forced.
When the first call went out for football candidates, Judd hunted up
Coach Little and submitted his name. He had thought about the moment
when he would do this for days. And each time that he thought of it
the nervous chills raced up and down his back. He had hoped that when
the time really came he could find courage to go through with it.
Coach Little could not conceal his astonishment when Judd confronted
him. For two years the coach had begged Judd to get out for the team.
He saw in the well-built youth the makings of a fine player. Trumbull
High was a small school. It needed all available material. A boy who
was physically fit for football and who did not get out for practice
was regarded as disloyal. No wonder that the students felt this way
about it with rivalry so keen between Trumbull and Canton high schools!
Trumbull's colors had trailed in the dust for three consecutive years.
This season the students had early begun to clamor for revenge.
"Glad to see you getting out, Billings," Coach Little said to him,
pleasantly. "I believe you should develop into a good player."
Some of the old football players crowded about. They eyed Judd
unbelievingly. "What, Judd going out for football?" The surprise was
so great that there was not an answering echo of enthusiasm. Judd was
yet untried. They had never seen him do anything noteworthy. Judd had
existed apart from them and their activities. He could not expect to
be readily accepted into the ranks of those who had been proven under
fire. Judd backed away, feeling self-conscious. As he left the crowd
his face flushed crimson at a low-voiced remark which reached him.
"Hump! He won't last long! He's got a streak of yellow a yard wide
all the way down his spine!"
When Judd asked his mother for money to purchase football togs she knew
that her intuition had been correct. Mrs. Billings sat staring at him
for a moment. Judd was hoping that his mother would refuse him. His
own decision was weakening. He still had a chance to get out of it.
His eyes ... his studies ... he would have to make up some work in
order to be eligible to play ... there were so many convenient
excuses.... And if his mother should put her foot down it would be so
much easier to withdraw. Mrs. Billings was having a struggle too. She
was picturing her guarded care of the boy and contrasting his life for
the first time with that of Bob's. Was it right, after all, to keep a
boy from athletics? What had her plan done for Judd? It had made of
him a coward, a boy who was afraid of himself and afraid of other
people. Mrs. Billings turned to the drawer and took out the money,
handing it over to Judd.
Judd took the money and hurried out. His heart was pounding strangely.
To think that his mother had changed! She, of all people! What had
come over her? Now there was no backing out. He must go ahead. He
had gotten his foot in it. Why had he been so forward? No one had
expected him to go out for football. They would have let him alone.
It would be a bigger disgrace to go out and fail than not to go out at
all. At least this is the way it seemed to Judd. And he was afraid of
failing more than anything else.