"Tough luck!" sympathized Carl. "But if your coach gets my job next year, you'll have a clear field!"
"I hope he doesn't!"
"Meaning you hope we win?"
Mack's face colored. "No—but I hope you keep your job win or lose."
"Listen, kid!" and Carl looked cautiously toward the door, "we've been slowed up due to injuries and illness this year in addition to poor material. But right now my eleven's at its peak for the first time and we're set to give Grinnell a whale of a battle tomorrow. So—if your team wins, your coach will be deserving of something!"
A rap sounded on the door.
"There he is now!"
Carl strode over and flung the door open.
"Edward, how are you?"
"Fine, Carver. And you?"