“Why not? Johnny sends us in there with instructions to buck their line and not do any kicking unless forced to. You heard the dope he handed us. Said Banning was fast and shifty and our best bet was to hammer the guards and tackles. Well, he didn’t know what he was talking about. Those fellows had a corking good line from end to end and slammed us back every time we tried to smash it. That guy who played opposite to me was a regular man-killer! And look at the pair of guards she had! Looks to me like Johnny had it in for us and wanted to see us knocked cold! Maybe we were slow, like he told us afterwards, but I’ll tell the world that it would have taken a mighty good defense to stop that passing game of theirs to-day. We didn’t know how to meet it, and that’s the truth of it; and I say that wasn’t our fault. Johnny should have prepared us for that crazy sort of stuff before we went in. Banning would heave the ball thirty or forty yards and we’d play back to meet it, and then she’d toss one over the middle and make it good for five or six or maybe eight yards before our backs could get in on it. Maybe we were slow, but we were fast enough to rub those guys’ faces in the mud if we’d been allowed to stay in! That’s what gets my goat, hang it all: putting in a bunch of measly scrubs just when things got interesting and we were all set to go!”
“Fitz Savell played a nice game,” observed Bert rather wistfully.
“Oh, sure, but the rest of them just flubbed around. Look at the chance they had to score when they were down near the thirty that time! And look at the play Bus Lovell called for! Say, who was in charge after Jonas quit, anyway?”
“Bus, I think.”
Chick snorted. “I’ll bet he was. Any one else would have made him change that play down there. Just handed them the very thing they were looking for! Played right into their hands! Why, a child could have seen that they were all set for that forward-pass!”
“I fancy the trouble,” said Bert, “was that Bus didn’t have much of a choice of plays.”
“What of it? He needn’t have thrown the ball away. Savell had been gaining right along, making his own holes, pretty near. Why didn’t Bus shift his line over and use a double-pass that would have given Fitz a chance to slip around tackle on the short side? We only needed about five yards. Anyway, suppose he didn’t have the plays? Whose fault is that? Johnny ought to have given us enough to lick those guys to a frazzle. Beaten by a high school team! Blamed nonsense!”
Chick relapsed into injured silence and they crossed West street, a block from the campus, and turned to the right in the direction of Mooney’s. Bert hadn’t much desire to spend the evening in a billiard parlor, but Chick had pleaded hard and he had yielded. “You don’t have to play,” asserted Chick. “I just want you to come along and see me trim that Devore guy. He’s got a licking coming to him after what he did to me Wednesday!”
“I’m to be the cheering section, eh?” Bert had asked. “Well, all right. But understand, Chick, that this has got to be an early party. Ten o’clock sees this little golden head on the pillow, and that means quitting the festivities by nine-thirty.”
“Sure, that’s all right. I’ll win two straight to-night. I’m in the mood to conquer, old scout! They wouldn’t let me lick Banning and I’ve just got to beat up some one!”