Part 19 (2/2)
STEVE WINNOWS SOME CHAFF
Two days later the third squad ceased to be and all but four of its members retired to private life. Of those four, one was Steve. Steve went on to the second team as subst.i.tute end. With him went Carmine, Peters and Saunders, while from the second a batch of half-a-dozen youths disappeared. That was the eighteenth of October. The candidates who had survived this final cut were safe to finish the season out. Of them some twenty-four were on the 'varsity and sixteen on the second.
The preliminary season was ended, and with the next game, that with Benton Military College, which was to be played at Hastings-on-Sound, the serious work might be said to begin.
The second, under Brownell, became a separate aggregation, moved to its own training table in the dining-hall, had its own signals and practised on its own gridiron. It even had its own coach, for a graduate named Boutelle--soon shortened to ”Boots”--appeared on the scene and took command. ”Boots” was a rather large man of thirty-odd years who had graduated from Brimfield before the days of football there. He had learned the game very thoroughly, however, at college, and was enthusiastically eager to impart his knowledge. He was a friend of Mr.
Robey, and it was understood that he was giving his services as a favour to the head coach. But it was soon evident that he was thoroughly enjoying it, and he entered into his task with heart and soul. In fact he was so anxious to develop a good team that one of the first things he did was to unwittingly fall foul of the faculty. The third day there he announced that until further notice there would be morning practice between ten and twelve for all who could attend it. Morning practice lasted one day. Then faculty drew the attention of Mr. Boutelle to the rule which forbade the use of the athletic field to students during recitation hours. Mr. Boutelle was disgusted and tried to argue about it with the princ.i.p.al, but had to give in finally. But in spite of being required to limit practice to the afternoon hours, the second came fast and there were some very pretty games between it and the 'varsity in those days.
Steve started in as a second choice right end, a chap named Sherrard having first claim to the position. Tom was plugging along at right guard and doing well. He was a trifle light for the place, but he was a steady player and a heady one and it took him less than a fortnight to oust his rival from the position. Tom was a surprise both to himself and to Steve. Steve had never taken his chum very seriously as a football player, probably because Tom was not the spectacular sort, but he was forced to acknowledge now that the latter had beaten him at his own game!
The members of the second didn't see the Benton game for the reason that ”Boots” wouldn't consider it at all. What, waste an afternoon looking on when they might be holding practice? Not if he knew it! But the absence of some sixteen members of the second team didn't keep Brimfield from being well represented at that contest, for most every other fellow in school journeyed across to Hastings-on-Sound with the 'varsity and witnessed a very good, if in one way unsatisfactory, game. For Brimfield and Benton tussled with each other through four ten-minute periods without a score. Perhaps Benton had slightly the better of the argument, although not many Brimfieldians would acknowledge it. At least, it is true that Benton came nearer to scoring than her adversary when, on Brimfield's five-yard line, she lost possession of the ball by a fumble.
On the other hand, Brimfield tried one field-goal from an impossible angle and missed.
The next Monday, with several of the regulars out of the 'varsity line-up, the second won a 6 to 0 victory, and ”Boots,” choosing to ignore the 'varsity's weakness on that occasion, requested the second to observe what could be accomplished by making the most of their opportunities to practice! The fellows, quite as well pleased as their coach, although not taking to themselves so much credit as he accorded them, smiled, and said, ”Yes, sir,” very politely and winked amongst themselves. But they liked ”Boots”; liked him for his enthusiasm and for the tireless energy he displayed in their behalf. If you can't make the 'varsity it is at least something to be able to help develop it, and that is what the second was doing, very loyally and gladly. And when in the process of aiding in its development it was possible to beat it, the second shook hands with itself and was c.o.c.k-o'-the-walk for days after!
Steve, like most others on the second, had relinquished hope of getting on the 'varsity. A month ago he would have scornfully refused to consider anything less than a position on the first team, but Steve had had his eyes opened not a little. There _was_ a difference between the sort of football played by Brimfield and the kind played by the Tannersville High School team, and Steve now recognised the fact.
Perhaps he secretly still thought himself deserving of a place on the 'varsity--frankly, I think he did--but whereas a month ago he would not have hesitated to make the fact known, he had since learned that at Brimfield it was not considered good form to blow your own horn, as the saying is.
But if he was disappointed at falling short of the final goal of his ambition, he was nevertheless having a very good time on the second.
There was a lot of fine fellows there and the spirit of camaraderie was strong, and grew stronger as the season progressed. The second was perhaps almost as proud of their organisation as was the 'varsity of theirs, and when, the week after the Benton game, they once defeated and twice tied the other team, you might have thought they had vanquished Claflin, so haughty and stuck-up did they become!
Steve played under a severe handicap that week, for once more he and ”Uncle Sim” were at outs. With Mr. Daley's a.s.sistance and encouragement, and by a really earnest period of application on his own part, he had successfully weathered the previous storm and had even been taken into Mr. Simkins' good graces. But football is a severe taskmaster, if one allows it to become such, and what with a strong desire to distinguish himself on the second--animated to some extent by the wish to show Mr.
Robey what he had missed for the 'varsity--and a commendable effort to profit by Marvin's teaching, he had soon begun to ease up on his Greek and Latin, which were for him the most difficult of his courses. And now ”Uncle Sim” was down on him again, as Steve put it, and on the eve of the Cherry Valley contest he was in a fair way to have trouble with the Office. Mr. Simkins' patience, perhaps never very long, was about exhausted. He had reason on his side, however, for Steve was by no means the only student who was in difficulties at that time. On Friday morning Mr. Simkins had indulged in sarcasm.
”Well, well,” he said, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands, ”I dare say it is too much to require you young gentlemen to study when it is such fine weather for football. What a pity it is that lessons and play conflict, is it not, Wilson?”
Wilson was too canny to make audible reply, however, and the instructor proceeded blandly.
”I wonder if Mr. Fernald would postpone recitations until after you have finished football for the year. I think I'll suggest it to him.
For, really, you know, this sort of thing is only wasting my time; and yours too, young gentlemen, for you might be out kicking a leather-covered bag of wind around the ground instead of sitting here cudgelling your poor brains--eh? Let us say heads, rather. The evidence is too slight to warrant the use of the first word--cudgelling your heads, then, trying to 'fake' lessons you've never looked at. I sympathise with you deeply. I commiserate. I--I am almost moved to tears. My heart goes out to you, young gentlemen.”
Mr. Simkins looked so sad and woebegone that the older boys, who knew him well, trembled in their shoes. The room was very silent. With Mr.
Simkins the storm was always in proportion to the calm, and the present calm was indeed portentous. The instructor fought for a moment with his emotions. Then he sighed.
”Well, until we have permission to discard recitations, I presume we must go on with them, such as they are.” His gaze roved sympathetically over the cla.s.s, most of whom showed a strong desire to escape his attention. Finally, ”Edwards,” he said softly and, as it seemed to Steve, maliciously, ”let us proceed with the dull and untimely lesson.
Kindly translate the tiresome utterances of this ignorant man who preferred wisdom and eloquence to athletics and football, Edwards. You may begin where your--hm--brilliant predecessor regretfully left off.
For the moment, pray, detach your thoughts from the verdant meadows and the sprightly football, Edwards. And--ah--don't, _please_ don't tell me that you are not prepared. Somehow that phrase afflicts my ears, Edwards, and were you to make use of it I should, I fear, be driven to--ah--strong measures. Now, Edwards, if you will be so kind.”
Well, Steve was _not_ prepared, as it happened, but he knew better than to say so, and, putting on an expression of confidence and pleasure as though Mr. Simkins had offered him the rarest of privileges, he plunged bravely into a paragraph of Cicero's Orations. But it was hard going and he was soon stumbling and hesitating, casting about desperately for words. A long, deep sigh travelled from the platform.
”That will do, Edwards,” said Mr. Simkins sorrowfully. ”Your rendering is novel and interesting. It is, possibly, an improvement on the original matter, but the question very naturally arises, Edwards, whether we have the right to improve on Cicero. Of course he had his limitations, Edwards, and his faults, and yet”--Mr. Simkins shook his head slowly and thoughtfully--”on the whole, Edwards, I think perhaps we should accept him as we find him, viewing his faults with a leniency becoming great minds, tolerating much, Edwards, for the sake of the--ah--occasional golden kernel to be detected in his ma.s.s of chaff by such giant intellects as yours. You _do_ detect an occasional kernel of sense, Edwards?”
Steve, miserably pretending a huge interest in the cover of his book, forebore to reply.
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