CHAPTER XVII
THROUGH THE ENEMY'S LINE
Parkinson played Musket Hill Academy the next Saturday at NorthLebron and met her second defeat. As, however, Musket Hill was, withthe possible exception of Kenwood, the most formidable adversary onthe season's schedule, the school was not much surprised nor greatlydisappointed. Of course, there had been a secret hope that the Brownwould triumph, but to have done that she would have had to play a farbetter game than she had so far exhibited, and Coach Driscoll was notready to speed up the team for the sake of a single victory. Parkinsonplayed true to midseason form and so did Musket Hill, and as MusketHill's midseason form was by far the better she took the contest. Thescore, 16 to 6, fairly represented the merits of the teams.
Parkinson was outplayed in three periods and held her own and no morein the fourth. By that time Musket Hill had accumulated a touchdownfrom which she had failed to kick goal and a field-goal, and had heldher adversary scoreless although the latter had twice threatened totally. Once Parkinson had reached the home team's twenty-two yards andhad attempted a forward-pass across the line which had failed, andagain, in the third inning, she had rushed the ball as far as MusketHill's eighteen, where, held twice for downs, she had tried to putthe ball over the bar from placement. Instead of going between theuprights, though, the pigskin went into the melee and was captured bythe opponents. It was that failure of Right Half-Back Cole's that pavedthe way for Musket Hill's second score, for the fortunate youth whopicked the ball from the ground got nearly to the centre of the fieldbefore he was stopped and from there it was rushed to the visitors'twenty-six and, when the brown line stiffened, was sent across the barfor three points.
In the fourth quarter, Parkinson went bravely at it to retrieve herfallen fortunes, but a fumble by Basker, who had gone in for Dannisa minute or two before, gave the ball to Musket Hill on Parkinson'sthirty-yard line and Musket Hill was not to be denied. She tore bigholes in the brown line between tackles, favouring the centre for thelast stage of the journey, and at last pushed her full-back over. Shebrought her score up to sixteen by kicking a pretty goal from a hardangle. Parkinson wanted to give way to discouragement then, but CoachDriscoll sent back Donovan and Walker and replaced Almy with Conlon atcentre, Almy having been injured in the final play of the drive, andsomehow the Brown took on a new lease of life and acquitted herselfrather heroically. And when, with some five minutes of playing timeleft, one of Basker's punts went over the head of the Musket Hill'squarter, Ray White dropped on it near the enemy's twenty-yards. Thenthe Brown pulled herself together in really superb style and showed anoffence which, had it matured earlier in the game, might have writtena different page in history. Parkinson went over the immaculate MusketHill goal line in just five plays, of which three were mighty rushes byWirt, one a delayed pass to Billy Wells for a slide off tackle and thefifth and last a straight plunge through the centre of the crumblingMusket Hill line by Cole. That final rush met with so little oppositionthat Cole went stumbling and falling half-way to the end line!
But six points--Lyons failed at goal by a mere inch or so--whilecomforting, didn't alter the fact of defeat, and Parkinson went homethrough a cloudy, chilly evening with another dent in her shield. Butthe fact that the school had "come back" in its allegiance was provedwell that afternoon, for the hundred-odd boys who had accompanied theteam stood up in the stand after the battle was over and cheered againand again for "Parkinson! _Parkinson!_ PARKINSON!"
As it turned out later, Parkinson had sustained something more seriousthan a defeat that day. She had lost the services for most if not allof the balance of the season of Bill Almy, the centre. Almy had bornethe brunt of the last half-dozen rushes made by Musket Hill when on theway to her final score and he had paid for it. They had taken him offgroaning and half fainting, but it wasn't known until the next morningthat he had broken a collar bone in two places! The attending physicianseemed highly elated over that second break, but his enthusiasm wasshared by no one else. There was hopeful talk of a pad later on and ofAlmy getting into the Kenwood game at least, but Coach Driscoll didn'tdeceive himself. On Monday afternoon he moved Conlon into Almy's placeand looked around for a likely substitute for Conlon. His choice fellon Tooker, a guard, and Tooker was put through a course of sproutsthat almost ruined an excellent disposition but failed to satisfy Mr.Driscoll. Crane, too, was given a chance to demonstrate that he wasintended for a centre rather than a guard, and Crane failed quite assignally as Tooker.
There was a time when "any old man," provided he had weight, bulkand strength, did well enough for the centre position on a footballteam, but that time has long since passed. Today the centre positionis rightly called the pivotal position. A poor centre may do more tohandicap a team than any other one player, and a good centre can domore to perfect it. He is the man that the team lines up about, andhis spirit is, more frequently than is realised, the spirit of thewhole eleven. In these days, instead of merely learning two passes,one to the quarter and another to the kicker, a centre must becomeaccomplished in anywhere from six to a dozen, for each of the newformations requires its special sort of pass. Instead of being guardianonly of the little piece of territory on which he stands, the centretoday must be "all over the lot." He goes down the field with the endsunder a punt, plunges into the interference on mass plays or end runsand must do his part when a forward-pass is tried. Nor is he less busyon the defensive, for he shares the responsibility for end runs andforward-passes and must help in blocking off the opponents going downthe field under kicks. And, whether on offence or defence, he musthandle the opposing centre and at all times use his head as well as hisbody. Consequently, an ideal centre must combine a good many qualities,as many if not more than any other man on the team. He must be steady,fast, intuitive and high-spirited. If he has weight besides, so muchthe better but some of the weight should be inside his head and not allbelow the neck.
Ira had not been used in the Musket Hill game, but the followingSaturday, after a week of longer and harder practice than had fallento the lot of the team all season, he found himself at right guardwhen the third quarter of the game with Chancellor School began.Chancellor had not come up to expectations and the Brown had run upnineteen points in the first half and had the contest secure. Bracketthad played at right of centre during the first half and Neely wassupposed to be next in succession, but for some reason Coach Driscollcalled Ira's name. Tooker had started at centre, but had lasted onlythrough the first quarter and half of the second, and Crane had takenhis place. Crane, while a fairly good substitute guard, was stillquite at sea in the centre position and much of his work devolved onthe guards. As Chancellor School was not yet acknowledging defeat;had a slow-moving but heavy line and was relying on rushes betweentackles for the most part, Ira and Tom Buffum, the latter playing atthe left of Crane, had their hands pretty full. Crane could be reliedon to play his man on most occasions, but on the attack he was slow inrecovering after the pass and it was usually Ira or Buffum who blockedthe opposing centre. Any save ordinary passes to quarter or kicker werebeyond Crane, and so most of the direct passes were eliminated. Ongetting the ball back to the kicker Crane was inclined to be erratic,but so far had not sinned many times. He worked as hard as he knewhow, perhaps twice as hard as he would have had to work had he knownhis position better. For most of the third quarter he got on wellenough, with the two guards sharing his duties, but when the period wasnearly over he began to weaken and Chancellor discovered the fact veryspeedily. Play after play came through the centre of the brown line, inspite of the efforts of the guards and the backfield, and had there notbeen a fumble by a Chancellor half-back on the opponent's twenty-sevenyards Chancellor would surely have scored. She recovered the fumble fora twelve-yard loss and began her rushes again, but the distance wastoo great and an unsuccessful attempt at a field-goal from near thethirty-five yards gave the ball to Parkinson.
Cole tore off four yards and Wirt got two and then the latter was sentback to punt. Crane had been pret
ty badly used and what might havehappened earlier in the game happened then. The pigskin flew awayfrom him at least two feet above Wirt's upstretched hands and wentrolling and bobbing toward the goal line. It was merely a question ofwhether a Chancellor end would get to it before it could be recovered.Something told Ira that the pass had gone wrong almost as soon as hehad seen it vanish from Crane's hands, and he was tearing back nearlyon the heels of the ball before his own backfield had more than sensedthe catastrophe. Chancellor came piling through and her ends foughtdesperately to get around. Wirt was legging it back after the pigskinand several other Parkinson players had begun pursuit. But Ira'sstart had given him the advantage and he passed Wirt at full speed.The ball was trickling toward the five-yard line. Behind, pounded thefeet of friend and foe as Ira slackened, caught the ball up, stumbled,recovered his gait and swung to the long side of the field. He mighthave played it safe by taking it over the line for a touchback,but the idea didn't occur to him. Instead, he pushed the ball intothe crook of his left elbow as he had been taught to do, raised hisright hand to ward off tacklers and plunged back the way he had come,circling, however, well over toward the further side of the field.
Hasty interference gathered to his aid, but the enemy was abreastof him and stretching toward him as he reached the twenty yards. Heavoided one tackler by dodging. Then two of the enemy faced him andescape looked impossible to the watchers. But he stopped short inhis tracks, stopped for such a perceptible period that it seemed asif he was deliberatingly studying his chances, and then, just as thetwo pair of striped arms reached for him, he was off again, swingingon his heel, swerving to the left, leaving the enemy empty-handed asthey staggered and rolled over the turf. After that only somethingapproaching a miracle could account for Ira's escape. In evading thelast danger he had thrown himself straight into the centre of the enemyhorde. His interference, never very effective, was scattered now andhe had only his own wits to serve him. But serve him they did. And sodid his weight and strength, for twice he literally tore himself loosefrom Chancellor players when it looked from the side line as thoughhe was stopped, and twice he bowled over an eager tackler by sheerweight and impetus. He deserved to carry the pigskin the remaininglength of the field for a touchdown, after such an exhibition, but wedon't always get what we deserve--when we deserve it. Ira still had theChancellor quarter to reckon with, and that canny youth had refused tobe drawn up to the line and was waiting just short of the centre of thefield.
Eager shouts urged the runner on and behind him brown legs and stripedlegs sped desperately. Ira changed his course a little toward thenearer side line and the quarter edged in to meet him. Then they cametogether. The Chancellor quarter tackled surely and Ira's attempt toget past him failed. But then, with the quarter hanging to his hips,Ira kept right on. The exclamations of dismay from the stands turned toshrieks of laughter, for the quarter-back, who, although smaller thanthe runner was of no mean size, dangled from Ira like a sack of meal,squirming, dragging, pulling! Five yards Ira gained. Then his plungingsteps shortened, for the quarter had slipped his clutching arms loweruntil they were binding Ira's legs together. But even then he managedto conquer another two yards, and perhaps he would have gone on andon to the far-off goal line had not a ponderous Chancellor linesmanreached the scene at the next moment and hurled himself on the runner.
When they wrested the ball away it was just past the centre line andIra had made a good forty-five yards in that plucky run. Fred Lyonshugged him as he helped drag him to his feet, and Basker shouted:"That's going some, Rowland! That's going some, boy!" and thumped whatlittle breath was left in his lungs away. That ended Crane's sessionand Conlon went in at his position. After that Parkinson took the ballforty-eight yards without losing it and shot Cole across for the fourthscore. When the whistle shrilled Billy Goode summoned Ira out andsent him trotting back to the gymnasium and Neely came into his own.Ira was not at all pained at being taken out, for he had had a prettybusy fifteen minutes and was glad enough to get under a shower. He wasdressed and out of the building before the others returned and onlyheard the final score at supper time.
Coach Driscoll had put in too many substitutes in the fourth period, hewas told, and one of them--some said Cheap and some said Mason--hadfumbled a pass near goal and a Smart Aleck Chancellor youth had fallenon the ball. It had taken the full allowance of downs to get the ballover, but they had done it, and the final score stood 26 to 7. Ira wassomething of a hero at Mrs. Trainor's table that evening, but he musthave been a disappointing one, for his account of his achievement hadto be dragged from him piecemeal and sounded extremely flat as he toldit. To his credit, it may be stated that he didn't look on his feat asat all remarkable and didn't feel at all heroic. Only rather tired. Hefell asleep over his Latin about nine and was in bed ten minutes later.
When he wrote home the next morning--it was a rainy Sunday and soeminently suited to the writing of letters and the balancing of bankbooks and the "getting up" on neglected studies--he did mention hispart in the Chancellor game, but he didn't make much of it, first,because he didn't think much of it and, second, because his fatherdidn't know as much about a game of football as Ira himself had knownbefore coming to Parkinson!
On Monday Ira might have seen evidences of new respect in the looksand behaviour of his teammates, but he wasn't looking for them. Itdidn't occur to him that picking up a football and carrying it throughthe opposing team for a matter of forty-five yards could make anydifference in his status. But there was a difference, and he wasultimately forced to perceive it. For awhile, however, he was fartoo busy. Coach Driscoll beckoned him from the bench before practicestarted. The coach had a quizzical smile on his face as Ira approached.
"Rowland," he said, "that was a nice little piece of work of yours onSaturday, and it seems too bad to find fault with you, but, my boy, youhad no more business with that ball than a tramp with a cake of soap!"
"Oh!" murmured Ira. "I'm sorry, sir."
"Your duty was to play your position, no matter what went on behind.As it turned out you got away with it, but you might not have. It wasWirt's place to pick up that ball, or Basker's, but not yours. When youleft the line you left a hole open for half the opposing team to pilethrough. If you'd made a slip they'd have brushed you and Wirt asideand had a touchdown in the shake of a lamb's tail. See it?"
"Yes, sir," agreed Ira sheepishly. "I'm afraid I didn't think of that."
"No, but those are the things you must think of, Rowland. You mustuse your head every minute. You're not likely to do the same thingagain and we'll say no more about it. Aside from the fact that it waswrong at the start, Rowland, that was as pretty a piece of running in abroken field as I ever saw. And I was mighty glad to see one thing inespecial: you didn't stop when you were tackled. I liked that. You gota good seven yards after Myers grabbed you, and when you did go downyou went down the right way, toward the other fellow's goal. That mayseem a small thing to you, Rowland, but if you put together all theground lost during a game by men who give in too soon when tackled andwho don't 'stretch' when they're down you'd have a fairly respectableslice of territory. All right. Now, here's something else. Do you thinkyou could play centre?"
"Centre?" Ira stared blankly. "I don't know, sir."
"Well, we've got an opening for a bright, industrious lad like you,"said the coach, with a smile. "You'd have to work like the verydickens, Rowland, but I have a hunch that we can make a centre of youif you'll do your part. Want to try it?"
"Why, yes, sir, if you want me to."
"Hm! Your soul doesn't exactly crave it, I see."
"I'd just as lief, Mr. Driscoll, but I don't know much about it. I'llbe glad to try."
"And try hard?"
"Hard as I know how, sir."
"Well, we can't expect more than that, I guess. Anyway, we'll see ina few days how you shape up. Today you'd better study Conlon and tryto see how it's done. Keep your blanket on and follow scrimmage frombehind the line. Use your eyes, Rowland. Maybe we'll
get you in for aminute or two at the end. Have you ever tried to pass?"
"No, sir, not as a centre."
"Well, it isn't hard if you put your mind on it. I'll turn you over toBasker when he gets through signal work. If you make good, Rowland, youstand a mighty good show of getting into the Kenwood game. And if youdo that you'll get your letter."
"Yes, sir."
"Hang it, Rowland!" laughed the coach. "Don't you ever get enthusiasticabout anything? Most fellows would be tickled to death at the idea ofplaying against Kenwood."
"I suppose I'd like it very much," replied Ira in a slightly puzzledtone. "I hope I'll be good enough."
"If you're not, you won't get a chance," said the coach drily. "Allright now. Join your squad. When you get through signal work report tome again."
Work like the very dickens Ira did, not only that day but everypractice day following during the next fortnight. He was taught hisduties in the line and he was taught to pass the ball in all of sevendifferent styles and angles. It was Basker who did most of the coachingas to passing, although on one or two occasions Dannis took him incharge. Then Bill Almy, his shoulder and arm confined in a cast anda hundred yards of bandage--I'm accepting Almy's estimate--appearedand went at Ira unmercifully. There were half-hour sessions at oddtimes during the day and every afternoon he stayed on the field withthe goal-kickers and, always with two, and frequently with three oreven four, busy coaches about him, passed and passed and passed! Or hestood up and was pushed about by Coach Driscoll or he hurled his weightagainst the charging machine to a chorus of "Low, Rowland, low! Now!Push up! Harder, man! You're not working!"
Not working! Ira decided that he had never even suspected before whatthe word meant! And what haunted him most of the time was the botheringconviction that a whole lot of persons, including himself, were wearingsouls and bodies out for no important result! Surely, if it came toall this bother it would be much more reasonable to let Kenwood winthe game. Of course he realised that a victory for Parkinson wouldbe very nice and would please everyone around him, especially FredLyons and Coach Driscoll, but it didn't seem to him that the game wasworth the candle. Still, he kept his nose to the grindstone withouta murmur, remained good-tempered in the face of many temptations tobe otherwise and worked like a dray-horse. And, at last--it was theTuesday following the game with Day and Robins's School--he was toldthat he had made good. "You'll do, Rowland," was what Coach Driscollsaid briefly that day. "Rest up tomorrow. Thursday we'll give you agood try-out against the second."
If he expected signs of delight, he was disappointed. For all that Irasaid was: "Thank you, sir."
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