And so the game went. Alton was playing better and harder, but she couldn’t make much headway at that. Carpenter seemed unwilling to attempt variety in the plays he ordered, and Lorimer solved most of them before they started. Several penalties were meted out, both teams sharing about equally. The third period ended with the ball in Alton’s possession on her own forty-yard line. With ten minutes left to play, a victory for the home team was scarcely within the possibilities, while, on the other hand, it was very generally predicted that Lorimer would not be able to add to her holdings.
Five fresh players went in for Alton. Newton succeeded Garrick at center, Renneker gave way to Raleigh, Wells to Wilde, Carpenter to Appel and Kendall to Reilly. Leonard, who had expected to see the hard-fighting Goodwin replace young Menge at left half before this, was surprised to observe “Cricket” still in place when the whistle blew again. Appel proved an improvement over Carpenter right away. “Bee,” as Slim had once remarked, had a sting, and it wasn’t long before Lorimer experienced it. The new quarter appeared to possess no awe of the enemy. He banged “Red” Reilly into the line once and then called for a risky double-pass play that threw Menge around the enemy right end with almost a clear field ahead of him. The Lorimer right half nipped the play and stood the diminutive Cricket on his head after a seven-yard gain, but Alton cheered loudly and triumphantly and took heart. But the Alton advance ended four plays later when Reilly fumbled and a Lorimer back shot through and fell on the rolling ball. Lorimer worked to Alton’s thirty-one, was held for three downs and attempted a desperate placement kick that fell five yards short. Seven of the last ten minutes were gone when a short forward-pass straight over the middle of the line gave Emerson a chance to dodge his way for a dozen yards and put the pigskin down on the enemy’s thirty-four.
Carpenter had twice tried the new plays for no results, and now Appel had a go at one of them. The one he selected was a half-back run from close formation, the ball going to quarter and from him to one of three players running past him and turning in around a boxed end. The chief merit of it lay in the fact that the ball was well hidden and the play could be made fast. Much, naturally, depended on the work of the linemen in doing away with the enemy defense. The ball went to the second runner in the tandem, who might be either one of the backs. The first man’s duty was to clear away the enemy’s secondary defense long enough for the man with the ball to get clear of the line. After that it was mainly up to the latter to look after himself, although, theoretically at least, he was protected from behind.
Appel chose this play—Number 39 was its official title—with the ball on Lorimer’s thirty-four-yard line well over toward the west side of the field. Cricket Menge was second in line when the backs turned as the ball was snapped and ran past the quarter. The play was nearly spoiled by Slim’s inability to throw the opposing end in, but he did the next best thing and allowed him to go past on the outside. Reilly took the Lorimer right half and disposed of him neatly and Cricket piled around on his heels. Greenwood prevented a flank attack and then confusion reigned and for a moment no one could have said exactly what did happen. But when the moment—a brief one—had passed, there was Cricket running two yards ahead of the nearest pursuer and making straight for the goal. It was Appel who put the crowning touch on his work by spurting through the ruck and engaging the Lorimer quarter just in time. Menge, small and fleet, reached the goal-line an instant later almost unchallenged. And after that the Gray-and-Gold held firmly against the charge of a frantic opponent and Rus Emerson dropped the ball very neatly between the uprights and well over the bar, doing what Lorimer had failed to do on a like occasion and so winning a game that, viewing the matter without prejudice, belonged to the enemy!
[CHAPTER VIII]
A STRANGE RESEMBLANCE
The school weekly, The Doubleay—more generally referred to as the “Flubdub”—was almost epic over the Lorimer game in the following Thursday’s issue. It dwelt heavily on the dramatic aspects and very lightly on the scientific. It found, or pretended to find, much encouragement in the masterly way in which the Alton representatives had overcome the enemy’s lead and soared to victory in the last minutes of play. Every one came in for a kind word—every one save the adversaries—and there was even fulsome praise for a few: Captain Emerson and Appel and Cricket Menge and Greenwood and Gordon Renneker. Even Slim, who had stuck it out for three periods, was mentioned approvingly. The Flubdub concluded with a flourish of trumpets, declaring that the Alton team had already found its stride and was headed straight for a victory over Kenly Hall.
The Flubdub’s effusion is set forth here, out of chronological order, merely to show how judgments differ. There were others who viewed the Lorimer game with less enthusiasm; as, for instance, Slim and Leonard. Slim made a wry face and shrugged his shoulders. “Just plain robbery,” said the left end. “We hadn’t any more right to take that game than—than nothing at all! Talk about stealing the baby’s rattle! Why, bless my soul, General, the only reason that ‘39’ play succeeded was because it went wrong! I was supposed to box that end of theirs, Kellog, and he wouldn’t box. By rights, he ought to have swung around back of me and spoiled the picture. Just by luck he didn’t, and Cricket got by and squirmed loose. That wasn’t good football, son, it was good luck. We played pretty fairly punk, the lot of us, although we did do a bit better after Appel took the helm. Bee isn’t the player Carpenter is, but he certainly can run the team a sight better, if you want my opinion. As for me, I don’t mind owning that I was rotten. But all the others were, too, so I don’t feel so badly. Even your friend Renneker did more heavy looking on than anything else, so far as I could see.”
“I’m afraid I can’t claim him as a friend,” said Leonard. “He’s never known me since we parted in the cab that day.”