FOR A SCRAP OF PAPER
Out on the field Judd was having the biggest fight of his life. There surged up within him the desire to overcome the fears of the past. He remembered the morning that he took the pen and signed his name to the contract in Bob's room; remembered his coming back to Trumbull and re-entering school; remembered how he had made himself get out for football; remembered his mother's changed feelings toward his activities. He had fought this thing that he knew was not a part of him … trying … trying to shake it off … but it clung to him hardest at just the times when he wanted to do the most … when it was the most difficult to get away from … and easiest to surrender.
The paper had seemed to Judd as the only outward evidence of his determination to keep up the good fight … to conquer fear. He did not want to admit to anyone that he had broken faith with himself … he had gone so far now that there must be no turning back … regardless of consequences. And the piece of paper did mean something to Judd. It meant living up to his true self … a self which had no use for babying; a self which never recognized failure … a self which did not think of itself … first.
Judd crouched in his defensive position, a hand holding his lame shoulder, eyes on the Canton backfield. There was a sudden shift, the lines crashed and the big Drake came through again. But Judd, gritting his teeth, went forward to meet him and dropped Drake for a bare two yard gain.
"Good boy!" cried Barley, pulling Judd to his feet. "Right at 'em!"
Drake, dripping with mud and water, jogged back to his position. The quarterback said something in Drake's ear. Drake nodded and glanced at Billings derisively. The next moment he had the ball again and was circling the end.
Judd, muttering to himself, "I can! … I can!" cut through the muddy turf. Barley spilled the interference and once more Judd tore into Drake, bringing the big fellow down. But Drake had gained five yards.
Third down and three to go! Canton tried a line play. Trumbull held. Drake fell back to kick. Judd retreated to Trumbull's thirty yard line to play for the punt.
The pigskin came spinning through the heavy air toward him. He had run forward about five yards to get under it. He made the catch but slipped and fell as he started forward. As he got to his feet two Canton tacklers hit him. When Judd got up he was conscious of a sharp pain in his right knee. Time out was taken while he paced about, testing his foot to the ground.
Barley, supporting him, said in a whisper: "Tough luck, old man. You're putting up a great game. They wouldn't be in it if it wasn't for their man Drake … we've got just seven minutes … I'll tell you what I'm going to do … I'm going to give you the ball practically every play and we'll hand them some of the same medicine they've been feeding us!"