"I want you to get off every punt without having it blocked; and that's a good deal, with what you're up against."
"Yes, sir."
"And hold on to every punt that comes to you—no fumbling."
"No fumbling—yes, sir."
"And kick as you've never kicked before—every kick better as you go on. Put your whole soul into it."
"I will."
"You won't miss a tackle—I know that; but you'll have some pretty rum ones to make, and when you tackle, make them remember it."
"Yes, sir."
"But, Stover, above all, hold steadfast. Keep cool and remember the game's a long one. Boy, you don't know what it'll mean for some of us old fellows to see Yale go down, but out of it all we want to remember something that'll make us proud of you." He stopped, controlled the emotion that was in his voice, and said a little anxiously: "I tell you this because a first game is a terrible thing, and I didn't want you to be caught in a panic when you found what you were up against. And I tell you, Stover, because you're the sort of fighting stuff that'll fight harder when you know all there is to it is the fighting. Am I right?"
"I hope so, sir."