“It would be learning a new game, though.”
“Rot! The positions aren’t very different. Just think a minute.” Myron thought. Then:
“How about punting?” he asked dubiously.
“I’ve seen you do thirty,” answered Chas.
“You seem to have made a life study of me,” laughed Myron. “Yes, I can do thirty, and better, too, I guess, but I’ve never had much of it to do and I don’t believe that I can place my kicks, and I don’t know how I’d get along if a bunch of wild Indians was tearing down on me. I’d probably get frightfully rattled and try to put the ball down my neck, or something.”
“You’d need practice, of course,” Chas granted. “I could show you a few things myself, and if you went after the position Driscoll would see that you got plenty of punting work. Don’t let that worry you. The thing to do, and it may not be so easy, is to persuade Driscoll that you have the making of a good full-back.”
“Ye-es.” Myron was silent a minute. “I’d like to ask you something, Cummins,” he said at last.
“Shoot!”
“What other changes are you considering on the team?”
Chas chuckled. “None, just now. I had thought—but never mind that. You see, what I want to do, Foster, is to fix things so that when next September rolls around I’ll have the making of a good team. A lot of this year’s bunch will graduate, you know. I’ve got to make sure that there’ll be other chaps to take their places. For instance, Steve Kearns, even if he was a corking good full-back, wouldn’t do me any good next fall because he won’t be here. Don’t get it into your bean that I’m queering this year’s team for the sake of next year’s, though, because that’s not the idea. I wouldn’t do that if I could.”