“I dare say it wouldn’t hurt,” agreed the coach. “But, fellows, the longer I stick at this coaching game the more convinced I am that when it comes to the last analysis it isn’t plays or players that win games; it’s spirit! Take eleven corking men, each one a master of his position, and get them so that they play together like a well-oiled machine, and then run them up against a team of ordinary players without much team-work or anything else except a great, big, overwhelming desire to win, and what happens three times out of four? Why, that inferior team wins! She may make mistakes, she may play ragged ball, but grim determination and fight and spirit get her there! You see it happen all the time. I can tell you of twenty games where the best team was beaten just because, while she wanted to win, she didn’t want to win hard enough!”
“Yes, sir, I guess that’s so,” agreed Joe. “And I guess it’s a lot easier to teach a team to play good football than it is to put the right spirit in them.”
“Of course it is! You’ve got to begin with the School, Myers, and work down to the team. If the School hasn’t got the right spirit, the team won’t have it. And that’s why I try to get as many fellows out for football at the beginning of the year as I can. Or, at least, it’s one reason. Interest a fellow, no matter how little, in the team, and he’ll believe in it and work for it. Even if a fellow comes out only to be dropped three or four days later, he’s ‘smelled leather’ and he never quite forgets it. He thinks well of his more successful companion who has made good, even though he may be secretly envious of him, and the team and its success means a lot more to him than it does to the chap who has never had anything to do with it. The team that feels the School behind it works hard and loyally and, when the big test comes, fights like the very dickens! And it’s fight that wins football games, just as it’s fight that wins battles. And that’s that!”
Mr. Cade ended with a little laugh that seemed to apologize for his vehemence, but none of his listeners joined in it. After a moment Martin said: “There’s a little school they call Upton Academy near my home, Mr. Cade. It has only about a hundred and twenty students, I suppose, and more than half of ’em are girls. But they meet teams from bigger schools and beat them right along. One of the teachers coaches them and the girls go with them and cheer like mad and they wipe up the whole county!”
“I guess it’s spirit in that case,” said the coach. “And maybe the girls have a lot to do with it. Ever notice what a deal of fighting spirit girls show? First thing we know—or our children know—the girls will be playing real football. And when they do, fellows, look out!” Mr. Cade chuckled at his direful prediction.
A little later the boys arose to go and Mr. Cade, moving to the table, took up the felt-covered board and looked at it curiously. “Defense for forward-pass, eh, Harmon?” he said. “Which of these red fellows is making the toss?”
“I don’t know, sir,” answered Willard. “I was playing the Gray’s end of it. But I figured that left half-back was throwing to an end.”
The others gathered around to see and Mr. Cade looked speculatively at Willard for a moment before he smiled and laid the board back on the table. “I’d pull my ends in further in that case,” he said, “and bring them nearer the play. What position are you after?”
“Half-back, sir.”
“I see. Well, it’s an interesting job, half-back’s. Lots of chance for initiative there. Quick thinking, too. Well, good night, fellows. Drop in again some evening. I’m generally home.”