“I’m in a blue funk over the Brewer game,” said Loring. “You needn’t mention it, but it’s a fact just the same. We’re going to get beaten as sure as shooting!”
“Why?” asked Dan.
“Because we aren’t up to the game, my boy. We are a lot of pretty ragged players as yet and it’ll take another week to work us around. I know, for I’ve been two years with the team. I know just what will happen. We’ll go down there and try a forward pass or two, and maybe an on-side kick, and they won’t come off right and Payson will put us back at the old style playing and we’ll just run up against a stone wall. He hasn’t any faith in this open play, Vinton, and just as soon as it begins to go against us he will get scared. He makes believe that he’s reconciled to the new rules, but he isn’t, not a bit. If he had his way they’d bring back the old rules. You see, Payson knows where he is when it comes to the old style of mass-playing, and he isn’t the sort of a fellow to learn new tricks very readily. And just as sure—”
“But you’ll be running the team Saturday,” said Dan. “You can pull off whatever plays you like.”
“I’m not going to start the game,” answered Loring. “Payson is afraid I’ll go fine, I guess. He’s going to put in Clapp. If Clapp does all right I’ll be out altogether.”
“That’s a shame,” cried Dan.
“Oh, I don’t mind. Except that I’d like to get a crack at Brewer. And I’d like to be able to run the team the way I wanted to for the first half. I’d keep them guessing, I promise you. Clapp will do as he’s told, and if Payson says try a forward pass and stop it if it doesn’t go he will do just that. Brewer always has a fierce old team; her men are like oxen, Vinton.”
“How old are the fellows?”
“The Brewer chaps? Well, they’re supposed to be under twenty-one; that’s the age limit in our agreement with them. But—” Loring smiled—“last year they had fellows in the line that’ll never see twenty-six again.”