Team members exchanged consulting glances. There was an element of truth in Hoyt Dale’s accusations. Their coach, Professor Dean Hogart, had admitted that he had never played the game. His knowledge and appreciation of the sport had been developed through observation during years that he had spent in Canada. Such a background no doubt left much to be desired but Parker High had been unable to afford a special hockey coach since hockey was a new sport for the school and still lacked sufficient public support.
“Something’s wrong with us, that’s certain,” conceded Walt Lowery, captain and centre. “Either we lack fighting spirit or...!”
“You can’t fight,” insisted Hoyt, “unless you’ve got the tools to fight with. That’s what I’ve been hitting at all season.”
“Something in that, too,” admitted Bud Gray, goalie, glancing about cautiously and lowering his voice. “Coach Hogart means all right, gang, but there’s certain inside stuff he doesn’t know. I think myself we’ve got a much better team than we’ve shown so far.”
“Sure we have!” declared Hoyt. “That’s what burns me up. We ought to be giving each team we meet the battle of its life. If you fellows would like me to put you wise to the tricks I know...?”
“Why don’t you?” urged Ed Compton, right wing. “You’ve played more hockey than any of us.”
“Well, I-I’d be glad to if Coach wouldn’t object.”
“Coach wouldn’t have to know,” suggested Lee Burrell, left wing. “He’d be for anything that would improve the team, anyway.”
“Not if it’s dirty playing,” countered Rudie, “and that’s what Hoyt’s system sounds like.”
“You’ve got dirty playing on the brain,” charged Hoyt. “You’re sore because I told you that you weren’t body-checking hard enough. If you want the truth, Rudie—you’re one of the weakest spots on the team!”