“Well, I suppose we do take football rather too seriously,” replied Tom leniently. “But, hang it, Tucker, if you’re going to do a thing why not do it well? Why not put your whole heart into it? Of course, the Second Team isn’t as important as the First, but it’s just as well for the fellows who play on it to think it is. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t work so hard and we wouldn’t turn out such a good Second Team. And, after all, a good Second is important, because it gives us practice.”
“When do you begin playing us?” asked Toby.
“Next week. Tuesday, probably. What are you trying for?”
“Quarter. Sounds conceited, doesn’t it?”
“Not a bit! Why? A quarter-back isn’t any better than a guard or an end, is he? It takes just as much ability to play one position well as it does another.”
“Y-yes, I suppose so, but—it seems to me a fellow’s got to know a whole lot in order to run the team right.”
“Oh, yes, he has. But it comes down to knowing a few plays and when to call for them, and remembering your signals. After all, it’s the captain that’s the general. Half the time a quarter doesn’t get much chance to boss the thing. The coach maps the game out beforehand, the captain holds the reins and the quarter-back does the yelling.” Tom laughed. “Anyway, that’s pretty close to it, Tucker.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Toby said in relieved tones. “I was sort of scared, you see; thought I might have to run the whole business if I happened to get put in some time. I’d make rather a mess of it if I did, I guess!”
“Not you, Tucker. You’re rather the type to make good, I’d say. I hope you get the place.”