“Well, not exactly that. When a team reaches its best two weeks before the big game it doesn’t take a slump to queer it. It only needs a return to ordinary playing, if you see what I mean. All you fellows need do to get beaten two weeks from today is to play the sort of football you played last week against Day and Robins. There’s just that much difference between fine football and good football, Cap. If it had been Kenwood today instead of Chancellor, we’d have the championship tucked away in our belt this evening. I guess I’ve made a mistake somewhere: let you fellows come too fast the last week or so. But I didn’t have any warning that you were on the last lap. It hasn’t shown once. Well, it’s up to us now to stay where we are, Cap.”
“Or go ahead,” said Jud.
But Mr. Driscoll shook his head. “I’d like to think so, but I’m afraid we reached top-notch today. I’m always scared for a team that hasn’t had a slump some time during the season. And we haven’t. Not a real, sure-enough slump. There was a tendency after the Phillipsburg game, but it didn’t really amount to anything.”
“Well, I don’t feel like slumping,” laughed Jud. “And I haven’t noticed any signs of it in the others. Every one’s as cocky as you please tonight, and barring a few bruises—and Flay’s knee—they’re all in fine shape.”
“Yes, we came out of it mighty well,” agreed the coach. “I hate a wet field, Cap. I hope to goodness this rain doesn’t keep on for two or three days. Rainy weather can play hob with a team that’s the least bit over-trained.”
“You’re a regular pessimist tonight, Coach,” Jud laughed. “Cheer up! By the way, Dobbins told me this evening that Foster’s expecting to get off pro. Kearns wasn’t half bad today, but it would certainly make me feel easier in what I call my mind to have Foster ready to take his place.”
“Yes. See if you can get him out Monday. There isn’t a whole lot of time left. Still, he’s learned the position fairly well and might give a good account of himself as he is. With another ten days of training he ought to make a good second for Kearns.”
The rain continued during Sunday and Myron was restless and inclined to be as much of a pessimist as the head coach. He was difficult to live with, too, and Joe dragged him over to Mill Street after dinner in the hope that Andrew would be good for his soul. Andrew did, in truth, perk him up not a little, predicting that he would get his release from Doctor Lane the next day.
“I dare say he’s forgotten all about me,” said Myron dismally. “Suppose Addicks doesn’t tell him I’ve made good?”