"Aw, he is not! I tell yer, he couldn't hang onto a punt if 'twas handed to him on flypaper by a dago in a dress suit, let alone run with it! My ole gran'mudder c'n run better'n him, any day!" Domestic troubles being for the nonce in abeyance Stodger was in a mood to let his tongue run free on a favorite topic.
"Well, we'll have to put your grandmother in at all-America left half next year." Stodger knew as well as anybody when he was being laughed at, and held his peace. "I didn't know you were such a football fan, Stodger."
"Aw, yes. I'm some fan." This without enthusiasm, in the bored tone in which one agrees to the statement of a self-evident fact.
"Well, I wonder. Stodger, do you think you could recognize any all-America player if you saw him on the street, in ordinary togs?"
"Sure I could."
"How many years back?"
"T'ree years ... oh, more; four, five years, mebbe!"
"Well, I'm afraid you lose, Stodger!"
"Aw, gwawn! Try me an' see!"
"You've lost already, I tell you. You've been talking to an all-America player for the last ten minutes and never knew it!"