“Tell us, little one, what did happen,” pleaded a falsetto voice from the far side of the hall. Bingham frowned at the unseemly mirth which ensued at this witticism and hastened to forestall further interruptions.
“Since we have had our coach—” and his emphasis on the word was unpleasantly sarcastic—“we’ve played five games against weak teams and been beaten in three of them! I guess we ought to be thankful we haven’t got two coaches. If we had we might have been beaten in all of them!” The effort at humor aroused a few uncertain chuckles. “I say it isn’t hard to place the blame for the punk condition of our team, and it isn’t, either. The fellows are all right. They do as they are told. The trouble is the fellow who tells them what to do doesn’t know his business. He’s had no experience. He never played a game of football in his life. He couldn’t because——”
“Shame!” cried the girls, and some of the audience hissed. Sears rapped his knuckles smartly on the table.
“The meeting will come to order,” he said severely. “And I must warn the speaker that personalities must be kept out of this discussion.”
“Mr. Chairman, I am speaking of the football coach. If we can’t discuss the coach what’s the good of this meeting? Besides, I see that he is here in person to answer for himself. I suppose he thought that if he came we wouldn’t dare criticize him. If he thought that he is dead wrong. We have a right to protest against his haphazard, ridiculous system of coaching and to demand that he either show results or yield his position to some one else, some one who at least knows the difference between a touchdown and a head-guard!”
“Nominate Bingham for coach!” shouted a small youth in the back of the hall and this time the laughter was spontaneous and prolonged, so prolonged, in spite of the chairman’s stern demands for order, that Bingham, who evidently intended to say more, hesitated and finally sat down.
Several other speakers followed. One, a Senior named Lewis, spoke well and rationally. “I regret that previous speakers have seen fit to lay the blame for the state of affairs on Dick Lovering, our coach. He doesn’t deserve it. Things don’t seem to be going very well, and that’s a fact, but I don’t think there’s anyone to blame for it. The trouble began when we lost Farrell. The team went on for some two weeks, I believe, without anyone in charge, and Captain White had everything to attend to, assisted, of course, by the manager. We all know that White tried his best to find a man to take Farrell’s place, and that he couldn’t do it. Then the Athletic Committee decided not to pay a salary this year, and that settled all chance of getting anyone with experience. As a last resort Captain White and some of the players went to Dick Lovering and asked him to coach the team. Lovering didn’t ask for the place and didn’t want it. He refused at first, I am told, and finally consented because White and the others wouldn’t take No. Lovering has made no claims to be an experienced football coach. The fellows didn’t think he was. But they had to have some one and Lovering was the only fellow in sight. If things haven’t gone as well as they might have you can’t lay any blame to Lovering. He may be partly accountable, but he isn’t to blame. He’s done the best he’s known how. I’m certain of that. Perhaps he has made mistakes. I confess I don’t know, for I’m no football authority. But I am sure he has done his level best and worked hard. Now the whole thing amounts to this. You’re not satisfied with the progress the team has made. Probably the team itself isn’t. Perhaps if methods of instruction or coaching or whatever you have a mind to call it, were altered things would go better. Lovering himself is here this evening. Before we go any further, why not hear from him? Perhaps he can satisfy us that things aren’t as bad as they seem, that they’re going to be a lot better and that when we run against Springdale next month we’re going to lick her. If we do that we’ll have done what we want most to do, and we’ll forget all about what went before. I’d like to hear from Coach Lovering.”
There followed much applause as Dick put his crutches under his arms, arose and faced the meeting. Then the hand-clapping subsided and an expectant silence ensued. Dick looked sober but quite untroubled. He began to speak in a quiet voice plainly heard all over the hall and in crisp, businesslike tones.
“Mr. Chairman, ladies and gentlemen,” began Dick, “I thank the last speaker for his expressions of good will. And I am very glad of this opportunity to say a few words. But if you expect me to make a defense of my methods you will be disappointed. Lewis outlined better than I could the events of this present football season. I was chosen, as he has told you, not because I had ever coached a team, not because I claimed that I could coach a team, but because there seemed no one else to fill the position. And I did hold off for awhile, not because I didn’t want to do it, for I did, and not because I thought I couldn’t do it, for I had a strong impression that I could. Lewis says that I must not be held to blame. I say that if there is any blame it’s mine. I’m ready to accept it and——”
Dick’s friends and not a few of the opposition applauded warmly.