The connoisseurs of the game explained to the uninitiated just what a "touchdown" was, and a "goal from the field." It was harder to make clear what a "safety" meant. The general description seemed to be that it was when a player was caught with the ball behind his own goal.
The crowd kept coming in faster and faster as the hour approached. By two o'clock every bit of desirable space was occupied. The field was marked off with new lines which shone clear and bright. Stanley was grouped on the right, Regal on the left, the side nearest the entrance. Automobiles fringed the outer crowd. All was expectancy.
Inside, the two teams were straining at the leash. The coaches had difficulty holding their men quiet.
"Don't waste your strength walking about and fretting," yelled Regal's coach. "You'll need all you've got out there." But the boys could not rest. They champed like horses at the post.
The cheers from outside came sailing in. That only increased their nervousness. A few minutes before time to go out, they almost needed to be tied. Every boy was chewing gum, or biting his nails, or kicking something. Finally the coach signalled attention.
"Now boys, go at them hard. This is no tea party. Scare them from the start. It's grit that wins. No quitter, no quarter. You're off."
With a yell, they bounded out of the dressing room and on to the field. They came out on a trot, looking steady and confident. They were greeted with "Regal, Regal! Rah, Rah, Regal," from thousands of throats. "Give them another," yelled Gaffney. "Regal, Regal! Rah, Rah, Re—gal" soared across the field.
An instant later, Stanley came out. They got their welcome, "Stanley, Rah! Stanley, Rah!... Rah! Rah! Stanley!"
The spectators were about equally divided. Both sides were on fire with enthusiasm. Those who knew the players pointed them out to those who did not. The strong and weak points of the respective teams were adverted to and discussed.
Below, on the gridiron, the players were limbering up. Some tossed the ball around, others made short sprints, while a few kicked the pig-skin, not far but accurately. The warning whistle sounded. Off came the heavy sweaters. Both sides ranged up in battle formation. The ball was propelled by a mighty kick far into Stanley's territory, and the fight was on.