"I'm sorry, Buddy. You tackled too low … and you didn't hang on tight enough after you grabbed me. You see, I kept on going and I got away from you."
Judd raised up, dazedly. He was not interested in why he had failed to stop Bob. He was concerned over the bumping he had received.
"Am I—am I hurt very bad?" he asked, tremulously.
Bob laughed. "Not bad enough to mention," he said, "You'll stop me next time, eh Buddy?"
Judd shook his head.
"No … there's not gonna be any next time, I—I'm through."
Bob knew better than to argue with him when he felt this way. He picked up the football and walked off the field. Judd gladly followed.
Several days later, when Bob returned from work, he noticed that Judd was red-eyed. On the table lay some newspaper clippings. They were want ads.
"Well, what did you do today?" asked Bob, casually.
"I—I was out looking for work."