CHAPTER XXI
TUBB BARKS A KNUCKLE
Yardley entered the final stage of football that week with its customary enthusiasm and single-mindedness. There had been already two or three meetings in Assembly Hall, on the third floor of Oxford, for the purpose of practicing cheers and songs, but those gatherings paled into insignificance with Monday night’s affair and kept on paling as the last fortnight before the Broadwood game grew toward its end. There were mass meetings on Monday, Wednesday and Friday of that next to the last week, and at each successive meeting the cheering was heartier, the singing louder and the enthusiasm more intense. Every one who had anything to say—and some who hadn’t—addressed the students, the Musical Clubs played their best and if fervor counted in the final score, Broadwood, to quote Sid Creel, was “a gone coon!”
And on the two gridirons life was very strenuous indeed those six days. The First was looking toward the big game and nothing else, and the game with St. John’s Academy, which, contrary to custom, was to be played away from home, was viewed merely as an incident. New plays, not many in number but exacting of execution, which had purposely been held back until now, were being learned and the final touches were being laid on. Coach Lyle had two graduates to aid him during the last fortnight, and he needed them, for there were still weak spots in the Blue’s line-up.
The Second Team, too, went through a week of intensive work, both with a view to giving the First some good hard tussles and with her own second and last game in sight. She was to play Latimer High School on the First Team gridiron on Saturday, and, with the big team away, the contest was sure to draw a crowd and attain a semblance of importance, and the Second, not at all loath to enjoy the limelight for once, was resolved to make a good showing. Toby discovered suddenly on Tuesday that his triumph over Roy Frick had apparently been gained, for during three desperate and hard-fought periods against the First he remained at quarter while his rival graced the bench. And Toby did himself justice that afternoon if ever he had. To be sure the First Team smashed out a score in each period, but she had to work for each, and in the third twelve minutes the Second made a forty-six-yard advance from mid-field to the First’s five-yard line, where, foiled thrice in attempts at rushing, Toby tossed a short forward to Mawson, who fell across the goal-line for a glorious six points. Listening to the storm of reproach and accusation hurled at the First by their coaches, Toby almost regretted the triumph!
Toby was used hard in that game. It seemed that nothing could stop the opposing ends from getting down under punts, while anything in the shape of protection for the catcher was invariably lacking. That wild Tubb was the worst offender from Toby’s point of view. Tubb was forever rushing on him the instant the ball settled into his arms, and Tubb had learned to tackle now. Some of the hardest thumps Toby got that afternoon were due to Tubb. Then toward the last of the play, Toby got into a side-line mix-up and Jim Rose, who weighed close to two hundred, sat on his neck in a way that spelled discomfort then and afterwards. On the whole, although he had had a corking good time and was conscious of having deported himself rather well, Toby reached the gymnasium in a somewhat weak and battered condition and made no objection when Gyp removed him to the rubbing room and made him swallow something that tasted like ammonia and then did excruciating things to his neck for a good ten minutes. Even after that he didn’t feel awfully bright and chipper, and that night he fell asleep with his head pillowed on his French dictionary and slept beautifully until Arnold rudely awakened him and sternly sentenced him to bed.
The next afternoon, although he really felt as fit as ever, the assistant trainer cast one stern and penetrating look at him and ordered him off the field. “No work for you to-day, Tucker,” said Gyp. “And don’t stick around here, either. Go and play tennis or something easy. (Gyp was known to hold a supreme contempt for tennis!) Anyway, stay outdoors.”
“Can’t I watch practice?” asked Toby ingratiatingly.
“You cannot! Beat it now, like I tell you!”
So Toby “beat it” and went back to the gymnasium and donned “cits” and wandered down to the tennis courts and saw Horace Ramsey run away with a set from the formidable Colcord, one of the mainstays of the Tennis Team. Ramsey’s playing astonished Toby, and he said as much to that youth when, later, they walked back up the slope together.