Bert Wilson on the Gridiron

by J. W. Duffield

And there was no let up until the tackling was as savage as even the most exacting of the visitors demanded.

Then followed practice in falling on the ball in such a way as to shelter it with hands and knees, while avoiding having one's breath knocked out by the fall; running with it tucked under the arm so securely that no grab of the enemy can dislodge it; getting down under kicks fast enough to take advantage of any fumble by the enemy in trying for a "fair catch;" getting a quick start the moment the ball was snapped back, and a dozen other elemental features that constitute the alphabet of the game. The boys had practiced these things a hundred times before, but they can never be done too often or too well; and to-day under the new stimulus they outdid themselves. Each tried to surpass his fellows and worked as he had never worked before.

After an hour of this, they were lined up for two ten-minute sessions with the scrubs. The play was sharp and snappy and every move was followed by keen and critical eyes that nothing, however trivial, escaped. By the time the team had rolled up twenty points and held their opponents scoreless, the volunteer coaches knew pretty well the defects that would have to be corrected, and just what work was cut out for them.

The coach was immensely pleased. Once more he saw daylight ahead.

"What do you think of them, Butch, now that you've clapped your eyes on them?" he asked, as they strolled off the field.

"All to the good," said Ames, sententiously. "Of course it's far from being a finished team as yet, but you've got some first-class material to work on. You're a little weak at the end of the line, and right tackle can stand a lot of improvement. But all the fellows seem willing, and that goes a long way. I didn't see one that appeared to be holding back."

"That fullback of yours is a peach," broke in Hadley. "He comes pretty near to being a team in himself. If he once gets a start, there's nothing that can ever catch him."

"He's the fastest man in college," replied Hendricks. "He's the fellow that carried off the Marathon at the Olympic Games in Berlin. And he's as game as he is speedy. You ought to have seen the way he stood McAlpin on his head when we played the Army. That fellow was as big as a house and as full of grit as a gravel path, but he wasn't one-two-three with Wilson. If all the boys were like him I'd have the championship won right now."

"What made a hit with me," commented Lawrence, "was that classy bit of dodging when he went down the field for sixty yards toward the end of the game. At least six of them tried to stop him, but he slipped by them like a ghost. And yet he ran almost in a straight line. All the dodging was done by the swaying of his hips and shoulders. A man that can do that comes pretty near to being the king of them all."

"You haven't any kick coming on your center and quarterback either," broke in Allen. "Jove, they're a pair of dandies. They work together like a well-oiled machine. They're playing with their heads as well their feet all the time. They've got the snap-back and the forward pass down to perfection. And they're a stone wall when it comes to the defense."