“What’s that?”
“Well, Priddy,” he continued, seriously, “I’ve been up against it ever since I indulged in sports. It has eaten up much of my time, and there have been days and days when the grind of training and practise and of having to go to bed early, and all that, have been wearing and uninspiring. If it hadn’t been that I felt that I was maintaining the honor of the college by my playing, I should have quit the game long ago. Well, there are a lot of folks that think of college athletics as a waste of the student’s time and as a feature of college life not good in itself, but which must be endured, if men are to be won to college. Of course you know that’s not the truth; at least in this place.”
“Of course it’s not so,” I insisted, just as earnestly. “College sports are the cleanest, most honorable of sports. They teach the students in this college to be manly in losing, to hold their tongues when the visiting team makes a fumble, and to cheer one for the other. It’s so different from the national game, outside of the college, where the crowds in the bleachers throw pop bottles at the umpire, insult the players, and nag one another bitterly. Our college sports teach the students moral control and self-restraint.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that, Priddy,” agreed Ellis, warmly. “If the game had been otherwise, I would not have wasted my time with it. Well, there are a lot of folks, even in college,” he continued, “who really think that because a man makes good on a football team that he’s not capable with his studies, or with the literary features of the college.”
“There again,” I agreed, “they don’t know all the facts. Think of the fellows on your team, this year. Several of your best players are making excellent records in class work.” I enumerated three of the brightest players who had maintained a rank of over eighty-five, in spite of the great amount of time given to sports.
“Yes, Priddy,” replied Ellis, “that’s so, but the public at large don’t think of it in that way. Well, that is why I want to go into the oratorical contest; just to show folks that a fellow interested in athletics is also able to manifest an interest in literary matters!”
“Good!” I exclaimed, won by his sincere earnestness. “But why do you want me to go in, too, as a competitor? I should think you wouldn’t care to increase the competition, merely as a matter of self-interest.”
“Oh,” he laughed, “the more, the merrier. I thought you ought to go in, too, for I think you would stand a good chance, Priddy.”
Finally I agreed to go in with him. On the walk we advised about subjects and the next day Ellis came to my room for some material I had promised him on his proposed theme.
Then began the strangest preparation for a contest in which I had ever indulged. We conferred with one another about the points we were to make, and prodded one another on, when either became slothful. Finally, when our speeches were memorized, we took afternoon walks into a field where we shaped our orations into some definite spoken form before each other. Ellis would hear me through, suggest how this gesture and that thought might be improved. Then I would criticize him in the same way. We hid nothing from one another, though we were to be rivals on the platform. He knew every turn of my speech and I knew every turn of his. He added force to mine by thinking out for me a new analogy that I could insert at a weak part. I altered a misquotation in his which would have lost him a point. It was an inspiring experience for me. I was witnessing, in Ellis, a sportsmanship of which there could be no more refined example. I did not wonder, then, at the praise the college had given him.