[“Yes,” said Russell faintly. “I’m—fearfully—soft!”]
[“Yes,” said Russell faintly. “I’m—fearfully—soft!”]
They made their way back to the forming line-up, but Coach Gaston intervened. “That’ll do, Emerson,” he called. Then, turning to the far side of the field, “Tierney!” he bawled. “Tierney! Hurry up!”
Russell yielded his helmet and went off with drooping head. He was heartily ashamed of himself. He had lasted some eight minutes only! Of course the reason wasn’t far to seek: a fellow can’t play football if he isn’t conditioned; and Russell realized that he was very far from conditioned. A summer spent largely indoors hadn’t, he thought ruefully, prepared him very well for what was before him. He sank down in the line of waiting substitutes and wondered if he would ever get his breath fully back again!
Of course first team went over. Having reached the twenty yard line, it wasn’t to be held by anything the second had to offer in the way of argument. Moncks got a good gain through center and Harmon made it first down on the scrub’s sixteen. From there, using concealed plays, the first wore down the defense until, on fourth down, with the ball on the five yards, Richards faked a forward and passed to Moncks and the latter raced around the second’s left for a touchdown. The period ended soon after and the second team players joined the substitutes and huddled into blankets and listened to a grave discourse on their shortcomings and failures from the coach.
When the second period started Steve Gaston put on almost a new eleven. Russell didn’t go in again, but sat on the turf, wrapped in a faded gray blanket, and saw Tierney play right end. And Tierney did very well, Russell thought, even if he did let Harmon get safely off with another forward pass that paved the way for the first team’s second score. For that matter, Russell had almost done the same thing himself. He was still wondering why he had been caught flat-footed on that play!
Coach Cade likewise called on his second-string players for the last period, and on his third-string as well. Russell saw with satisfaction that when Jimmy Austen supplanted Mawson at left half—Harmon had not started the last period—his punting, if not in the least phenomenal, was very good. Russell got a case of mild heart-failure every time the ball went to Jimmy for travel by the aerial route, for Jimmy was deliberate to a fault. It looked as though he simply hated to part from that ball until at least two of the enemy were almost upon him. But he had Fortune with him to-day, and of his four punts not one was blocked and each went its way as he fore-ordained it to; forty yards, forty-five and, once, a magnificent fifty-odd. At carrying the ball, though, Jimmy met with less success, and after each of his several attempts Russell heard the incisive voice of the coach dealing out rebuke.
Second didn’t score that afternoon, didn’t approach to scoring, indeed, and, afterwards, Steve Gaston’s quiet thoughtfulness indicated that he wasn’t any too well pleased. Steve had yanked Squibbs and Emerson back to the fold and added two other unknown quantities in the persons of a brace of sophomores who had messed about with last year’s freshman team. So far, so good, but the second team was still far from the hard-fighting, bull-dog aggregation that he was working for. He told himself that the weight was there, and the aggressiveness, and the knowledge sufficient for his ends, but that for some reason the fellows weren’t using them. He wondered if there was some way in which to make the team forget that they were doing battle with their fellows and really fight! Of the crowd, Wells was the only one who exhibited the proper spirit. When Wells went into action friendship ceased. Put Wells in football togs and he would have fought to a finish with his grandmother! Sometimes Steve had to call the tackle down for “slanging” too much, but he always hated to do it. If he could only get the rest of the team into the same frame of mind he would, he felt, have a real eleven, an eleven that would make history.
On the way out of the gymnasium he caught sight of Russell and hailed him. “I used you a bit hard this afternoon, Emerson,” he said, “but I wanted to see how you showed up, and there isn’t much time for coddling.”