Frederick shook his head, sorrowfully. “Since I couldn’t go in for the sports other fellows were playing, I developed the habit of staying off by myself. That hasn’t helped me, either. I guess I’ve been too retrospective. There’s such a word, isn’t there?”
The coach smiled, sympathetically. “I think so—but I’ve been so busy with my present that I haven’t had time to look backward. You shouldn’t let the past have such a hold on you, Fred—snap out of this! You’re missing half the fun in sport!”
Frederick nodded, ruefully. “I’d give a lot to be able to get enthused,” he confessed. “When I see the kick the other fellows get out of playing, I know something must be wrong with me. All my athletic development has been individual and team play has left me cold. You want to know what hockey seems like to me? It’s just a series of cracked heads and shins and so many knockdowns.”
Coach Howard laughed. “It’s because you haven’t thrown yourself into the game ... haven’t caught the spirit of it,” he insisted.
“I guess I haven’t,” Frederick conceded. “As an individualist, I’m impressed with the fact that, in hockey, skating is secondary to the game and I get no particular thrill out of chasing a puck and banging at it with a stick. Neither can I see any necessity for letting myself be bumped to the ice if I can possibly help it. For that reason, some of the fellows are insinuating that I’m yellow. I hope you don’t think that?”
“Frankly,” said Coach Howard, “you’re one fellow I can’t catalogue. You’ve got me astraddle a fence.”
“Well, I feel better for talking with you,” said the champion fancy skater. “I’ve never opened up like this before. No one’s seemed to care....”
“No one’s cared because you haven’t seemed to care what they were doing,” explained the coach. “They won’t warm up to you until you warm up to them—that’s only natural.”
Frederick swallowed, miserably. “Then I really don’t know what I can do about it,” he said, hoarsely. “I’m so used to doing things by myself that I don’t feel at home with other fellows. I guess you’d better call it ‘quits’, Coach. I wouldn’t want to lose the Melville game for you ... almost anyone would be better in there than me ... no matter how good a skater I am....”
“Nonsense!” decided Coach Howard. “This game means the championship—but if it meant a chance for you to win out over yourself, I’d rather play for that. You’re going to discover one of these times, Fred, that you need hockey much more than hockey needs you and when you do—well, you’ll be a different fellow!”