“I understand,” he said slowly. “I have observed your excellent work on the field, and that is one of the reasons why I wished to find out what was the matter. Football, like many other athletic games, is extremely valuable, Mr. Hollister, as an aid to character development. But, like almost every other good thing, it is liable to be done to death. I’m sure you don’t wish to develop into a man with only one idea, one purpose in life.
“Such a man gets into a rut—becomes narrow, ineffective, and finally useless. It’s a common failing in the business world, and has resulted in thousands upon thousands of the merest machines and human automatons. While you’re on the field play the game for all that is in you, but don’t carry the thought of it always with you, to the exclusion of every other duty. I shall not send you the general warning just yet, Mr. Hollister, until I see whether you take this little talk to heart. Your playing on the eleven has earned you a little latitude, but it must be understood that from this moment there has to be a very marked change for the better in your class records, or I shall be obliged to let things take their regular course. I hope you understand my meaning.”
“Perfectly, sir,” Hollister answered gratefully, “and I mean to take it to heart as well. I hope that you won’t have cause for any more complaints.”
The dean smiled.
“Good,” he said quickly. “If you persist in your determination, I am sure I shall not. I think that’s all. No doubt you are eager to get down to the field. Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon, sir,” Hollister answered, as he arose and walked toward the door.
Once outside, he dashed out of Lampson Hall, tore across to the car, and in a few minutes was on his way to the field.
“He certainly is a good sort,” he said to himself as he got a seat well forward in the car. “I expected to be handed out a cold calldown, and it was a regular fatherly talk. He’s right, though, I really ought to brace up; but how the mischief can I until the season’s over?”
Once on the gridiron, Hollister was in his element. He flung himself into the practice game with tremendous enthusiasm, playing with all the vim and go and energy which he would have exhibited in a hot contest with another college.
He was not the sort that hold back and do just enough to make a fairly good showing. He must do his best or nothing, and for that reason he was very valuable in practice. He always kept his temper, disdained hard knocks—they were all part of the game; and he was never too tired to try “just one more formation.”