by Jim Andersen
CHAPTER 4
HALF A WIN
Wednesday had been named by the coaches as “Roster Day.” They had promised to post a list of the boys who would be kept on the team.
On Tuesday the freshman reported for practice and on Wednesday they were to get their equipment. The boys who did not make the varsity were to turn in their gear, which would then be used by the freshmen.
At the lunch table Wednesday noon Mr. Andrews and Mr. Miller went over the list for the last time. It was difficult to cut anyone but the limitation of equipment made it necessary.
The list of forty boys was posted as promised. Soon large crowds gathered to find out who had made the varsity. Some expressions of excitement were heard from the crowd reading the names. Some, who did not find their names on the list, were naturally disappointed.
One of the surprises was that no sophomores were named to the team. The underclassmen would not have much chance to play regularly with the good talent available. On the “B” team they would play more and get valuable experience for next year.
Wednesday night’s practice was a good session. Those who had made the team were filled with an extra dose of confidence. They ran their laps quicker and put more interest into their drills. The spirit was noticeably improved.
Scrimmage was on the schedule, with the offense working to polish up their plays against the second team. Coach Andrews went over the plan for Friday’s game, “ The strategy calls for only a few plays in this game. We will use the winged-T formation and the basic plays from last year. We have a few passes that Tom can call to keep them honest. Now, does everyone know his plays? Is there anyone who does not know his assignment on any plays?”
“What do I do when we have the ball?” asked Guts.
Coach Andrews was about to tell him, but Ken Whisk began first, “You play center and guard.”
“What’s that?” asked Guts.
“Sit in the center of the bench and guard the water bucket.” The joke was old but everyone laughed: including Guts who wasn’t certain that he understood, but enjoyed laughing anyway.
This week you just play on the defensive unit. Perhaps next week we can work you into the offense. Maybe you can play center,” said Mr. Andrews.
“I think I’d like that.”
“Now are there any more questions?” Hearing none, the coach began to line up the teams for their practice.
On the third running play, the two halfbacks crashed head-on into each other directly behind the center and quarterback. Both fell to the grass, stunned momentarily. The fullback had run into the line. Tom pretended to give him the ball but pulled it back and started to toss the ball back to Tim who was to run around the right end. It was then that the collision occurred.
“Smitty,” yelled the coach, “where did you think you were going?”
“I thought it was a right sweep and I was going to get the ball.”
“It was a right end sweep. You don’t carry on that. You block!”
“I do? Oh, yeah I remember.”
“Now, line up and let’s try it again. Smitty, do you know what you do on that play?”
“Yeah, Coach, I’ll do my best.”
“Russ - - Russ Bikes,” Coach called to his reserve halfback who was playing defense. “Do you know what you do on a right end sweep?”
“Sure, Coach, I block the cornerback or the man inside the end so Tim can run around end.”
Smitty raised his hand and a very puzzled look came over his face. “If he gets the cornerback, who do I block?” he asked in all seriousness.
When practice resumed, the plays worked better. After running through their series a few times, they set up to play defense and let the second team run some plays.
After a long but lively practice, the boys felt pretty good. There was a lot of horseplay in the locker room but it stopped when Coach Andrews entered. He went around the room stopping first near one boy then another, pointing out good plays he had seen or giving them suggestions for improvement.
“Cain,” he said as he sat down next to the small, senior guard who was half dressed, “how would you like to be captain?”
“I’d like that. That would be quite an honor.”
“I’m making you captain for this game. If you do a good job the job will be yours all season.”
“Gee, that’s great. I’ll do the best I can.”
“I believe you deserve it, Wayne. The fellows respect you and will follow you. I think you will do well.”
“I’ll try, Coach. Anything special you want me to do?”
“Nothing special, I just expect you to be a leader of this team both on and off the field.”
“Off the field, too?” Cain asked thoughtfully. On the field he knew the boys well, and he didn’t expect trouble there; but off the field he wasn’t certain. He couldn’t claim one of his teammates as a close friend. How could he be a leader off the field?
“That’s right, Wayne. Games are won off the field. The way a boy lives determines how he will play. If he eats the proper foods and gets the proper amount of sleep he will be strong physically. If he conditions his mind by proper living he will be ready mentally. If he does his best off the field, he’ll be ready to do his best on the field, too.”
“That sounds like a big job.”
“It is a big job. I think you can do it or I wouldn’t have asked you. You know what should be done if we’re going to have a winning team. Help your team to be better by helping the boys do what they should do.
“I know what you mean.”
“Hold it a minute, fellows” called the coach, standing and raising his hand for attention. The noise ended quickly. “I just wanted to announce that Wayne Cain will be the team captain Friday. He’ll be my representative and yours. I want you to cooperate with him. If you have some problems and you don’t want to tell me, work it out with him. All right, carry on.”
“Maybe we should ask him to our party, Tim,” asked Tom Brown of his brother, on the way home from practice that night.
“Maybe we should. He can’t squeal on us if he comes with us.”
The twins were planning a party to be held at their home after the game Friday night. It would be a “victory party” for the first win of the year. Their folks were to be gone for the weekend so the boys would have the run of the house. Many of the seniors and their girl friends were coming; but none of the team had been invited yet. The twins didn’t seem to get along with the rest of the team this year.
“We ought to ask Guts, too” added Tom. “He acts like a loner, but he’s from Chicago, and I’ll bet he knows his way around.”
It was agreed to ask both Cain and Guts to the party. In school the next morning Tom walked to class with Guts. He broke the ice by asking, “Do you like parties, Guts?”
“Sure. Who doesn’t like parties?”
“Would you like to come to one at our house after the game Friday? We’re gonna have a party in the basement.”
“What kind of party?”
“Oh, records, dancing, maybe a few beers. Do you have a date?”
“No, I don’t know any girls here yet.”
“I’ll get you one then, how about it?”
“I - - don’t - - know. I’ll have to think about it. I’ll tell ya later.”
“O.K., but you better come. It’ll be lots of fun.”
“Another problem,” thought Guts as he walked the rest of the way to his class alone. “It would be fun,” he said to himself, “I haven’t been to a good party all summer, but I shouldn’t go. My uncle wouldn’t like it. Coach wouldn’t approve of it. I know I shouldn’t go.”
In the locker room that evening before practice, Tom and Tim found Wayne alone. They asked him to come to their party. A hot discussion followed which Guts observed from the other end of the locker room, but he didn’t hear what was said.
Walking out to the practice field, Guts was next to Cain and asked
, “Did they ask you to their party?”
“Yeah, but how did you know?”
“They asked me, too.”
“Are ya goin’?” questioned Cain.
“I don’t know. I haven’t said yet. Are you goin’? I guess if you go, it would be O.K. for me to go, too.”
Cain thought to himself, “Why leave it to me to think for you?” but he recalled coach’s words about being a leader. “I’m not going - - I told them that I wouldn’t go.”
“Why not?” asked Guts.
“Several reasons,” began Cain, “I’m out here to play football. My dad always told me to be the best in what I did. I can’t be a good football player unless I keep the training rules. That party will last too late. They won’t get to bed by eleven and they’ll probably be smoking and drinking, too.”
“But, those guys do it. Look how good they are. They’re the stars of the team.”
“Who says so?”
“Why everybody knows that. I’ve been here a week, and I know it.”
“Well that’s what you think! We’re all a team. We don’t go anywhere in this game alone.”
The coach gave the command and the boys began running their laps around the practice field. Cain had to finish his little speech as they trotted along together. ‘Let me tell you something else, Guts. Those guys are just naturally good, but they aren’t as good, now, as they were last year; and I’ll tell you something more, they could be much better if they would give up partyin’ and go all out for football.”
Cain was quiet and Guts thought about his words. Finally, he said, “I won’t go. I didn’t really want to go anyway. I mean, down inside of me, I knew it wasn’t right.”
“Good boy, Guts,” said Cain, “now let’s run.” He began to turn on the speed, leaving Guts far behind.
Practice the night before the game was usually light. There was the usual running and drills but no contact. When Coach took the mound to give his daily pep talk, he said, “We’re going to take it a little easier tonight. I’d rather have you go to the game hungry, than fed up with football.”
Each practice Coach talked to the boys about something which he felt they needed to know. Tonight it was the place of schoolwork. “Some of you fellows are only in school so you can play football. This shouldn’t be your main reason for staying in school. Football is important. You can learn a lot from the game, but it must be second to your class work.
“The things you learn in school will help you to earn a living and teach you how to live. They will be important to you all of your lives. Learn them well.
“If you don’t do well in your classes, we don’t want you out for football. You are supposed to be representatives of your school. You should set a good example in school, too.”
“Now let’s get to work,” Coach said.
The first part of practice consisted of working on punt formations, punt returns, kickoffs and kickoff returns. During the second part of practice the teams practiced their offensive plays, working on timing and coordination.
After two laps to finish practice, the team sat in the locker room as Coach gave last minute instructions about the first game. “Eat a light lunch and be back here ready to leave for the game at five-thirty.”
As they were leaving the locker room, Dean grabbed Tom’s arm and said. “Count me out of that party, Tom.”
“How come?” asked Tom.
“Well, I don’t think it’s right to - - “
“What d’ ya mean it’s not right?”
“You know. We’re supposed to be in early and not - -. We’ll - - . Coach wouldn’t - -.”
“Oh, that. Don’t worry. He won’t ever find out unless some guy squeals.”
“Well, it’s not right, so don’t count on me.”
“O.K., but don’t forget that we gave you a chance to be somebody and you turned it down.”
Guts felt as if he had been “told off” but he felt better about his thoughts than he had before. Doing the correct thing and knowing that he had chosen to do right lifted his spirits.
Friday seemed an extra long day for the team which was anxious to get the first game started. The bus left for the game on time and the boys sat nervously through the 45 mile ride to the game site.
Samson High School was a new school which had just opened this fall. Three area schools had consolidated to make the one large, centrally located school.
No one had yet seen the new school’s team play. This was their first game. No one even knew the coach or what kind of football he played because he had come from out of state.
“I feel very nervous about this game,” said the coach to his assistant as they neared the school. “I just don’t know what to expect from them.”
“It’s like driving into a strange territory at night,” added Mr. Miller. “But don’t forget, Bob. This is their first game too. Our kids have last year’s experience to go on. Samson should be the ones to worry - - and they probably do, too.”
“We’ll soon know; here we are.”
The “ooh’s” and “ah’s” from the players indicated their interest in the new, modern school building. When the bus pulled into the parking lot all eyes were on the school and its campus. It was by far the newest school they had seen and they didn’t want to miss a thing.
This game was a non-conference game. Samson was a lot further away from home than any league schools. Usually, the team dressed at home and went to the visiting schools suited up. This time the coach had decided to change into football uniforms at Samson High. This gave the boys a chance to see the inside of the new building too.
“Come on gang. Let’s think football,” said Cain to the players who were wandering around the locker room admiring the facilities instead of dressing. “It’ll be a long ride home if we lose.”
Before going out to the field to warm up, they went over assignments to make certain there were no mix ups. “Now this is the time we’ve been getting ready for, gang. All of your friends are here to see you. Let’s give them a good show. Warm up well tonight. I don’t know what we would do if any of you get hurt.”
Once on the field the activity seemed to ease the tension which had built up. The warm-up was going according to plans when a mishap occurred. Gene Fry, a second string halfback, was downfield receiving punts kicked by Tom and Tim. He had just caught a ball and began to run when he stopped and fell to his knees. Other players near him went over to him and went down on their hands and knees too.
The crowd began to notice the odd sight. A slight laughter could be heard, which increased as more and more players joined the group of white and blue uniformed boys on their knees.
Coaches Andrews and Miller had not seen the odd behavior of their players at first; they had been talking to the Samson coaches about ground rules. When they noted the trouble, they headed for the gathering on the run.
“What’s this? A prayer meeting?” asked Andrews as he neared the group.
“No, Gene lost his glass eye,” said Smitty, half laughing.
“His what?” asked the coach in genuine surprise?
“Not my eye, Coach. I lost my glasses. One of my contact lenses fell out when I caught the punt. It’s right here someplace.”
“You’re sure it’s here,” asked Mr. Miller as both coaches dropped to their knees to aid the search.
Soon the officials joined the search, which by this time had become the center of attention of all the people in the stadium. The laughter from the uniformed and unsuspecting spectators was accompanied by shouts from the partisan fans.
“What kinda formation d’ ya call that,” called one gravel throated fan from the sideline.
“You look like a great team that way,” yelled another. “Why we ain’t even hit ya, yet.”
The tiny lens was miraculously found by Jimmy Andersen, the team manager who had also joined in the search.
“Is this what you were looking for?�
�� he asked.
“Let me see it. Yeah, that’s it. Thanks a lot, Jim,” said the relieved but embarrassed halfback.
“That doesn’t look big enough to be a lens for a doll’s glasses,” laughed Jimmy.
“Alright, gang. It’s almost time to start. Run a little signal drill.”
Captain Cain went to the center of the field with the officials to meet the other captain and decide who would kick off. Cain won the flip of the coin and chose to receive.
“Little things always manage to upset a team,” said Coach Andrews to his assistant. “I hope it doesn’t affect the kids tonight.”
The whistle blew; the ball was kicked; and the game was underway. The kickoff carried to the 15 yard line and into the hands of Smitty. He started toward the left sidelines before he remembered he was supposed to go to the right. He reversed his direction and swung back toward the other side of the field where he was tackled, not having gained even one yard form where he caught the ball.
Don Lake, the center, called for a huddle. Tom Brown called the first play. Joe Blaine carried the ball for a one yard gain over the center of the line. A halfback slant with Tim Brown carrying the ball gained two more. Finally a sweep around end by Smitty lost the three yards gained previously.
“Fourth and ten,” said the referee, but Tom had already received the signal from coach to punt.
“Punt formation, on one. Now hold ‘em out gang.”
Tom went back to the goal line to get ready to kick. When he saw the team was ready, he called, “One.” The ball was snapped to him, and the defenders rushed in. Smitty, who was backing up the line, looked across to the other side where he saw a grey shirted lineman move in, so he left his position and started across to block the oncoming opponent. Just as Smitty moved, Tom put his foot to the ball. Instead of a “THUD” for which the lineman had been waiting as a signal to go down field and make the tackle; what they heard was “THUD-THUD”. The ball had been kicked but it had hit Smitty squarely in the seat of his pants.
The surprised linemen turned to see what had happened. They turned in time to see Smitty go down to the ground and the ball bounce backwards passed the goal line. One of the “Foxes” fell on the ball.
“Safety, two points,” called the referee as he signaled to the benches. “And you kick off from your twenty yard line,” he added to Captain Cain who was standing next to him.
“What a way to start a season,” moaned Coach Andrews as he paced the sidelines. “They scored before they even had the ball.”
Samson took the next kick-off on their 40 yard line and advanced it to the 45 before being tackled.
The Foxville defense would now get their first chance to show what they could do. Captain Cain moved down the line asking, “Who’s got the first tackle?” slapping his players smartly to stimulate them.
Samson’s quarterback tried to sneak through the center of the line but Guts hit him and pushed him back.
“Hold ‘em again gang,” called the players to each other as they dug in for another onslaught; but this time it didn’t come to them. The fullback fake into the line was stopped easily, but he didn’t have the ball; instead, the quarterback threw a long, looping pass. Tom Brown was slow to cover it because he thought it was too far for anyone to catch. To his surprise, a grey-clad Samson player sprinted under the ball. After catching it, he easily outran Tom for a touchdown.
“That makes the score eight to nothing,” announced the man on the public address system. The hometown fans let loose with a loud cheer for their team.
The extra point failed when they tried to run the ball through the center of the line and Guts dropped the runner short of the goal line.
There was no more scoring done in the first half. After the shock of the quick scores, the “Foxes” line played fine ball stopping everything the home team tried. They also rushed the passer and boxed in the ends so no more long passes were completed.
When the teams huddled at the halftime intermission, Tiny Small casually asked Smitty, “Have you got a headache?”
“No, why?”
“Well, if I got kicked as hard as you did in the place where I got my brains, I’d have a headache.”
“Knock it off. We have work to do,” started Coach. “Now what’s wrong with our offense? Don’t tell me that it isn’t working. Anyone can see that.”
“I don’t know, Coach,” said Tom, “But our timing seems to be off.”
“The handoffs are slow. I have to slow up to get them,” said Joe Blaine.
“We’re getting’ holes but they close up before we get there,” added Tim.
Coach Andrews made a few suggestions to remedy the troubles. Then it was time to take the field again for the second half.
“Three minutes,” called the referee.
“Alright, gang, let’s go out and get loosened up. You can still win this, but it will take at least two touchdowns to do it.”
Two scores were more than the “Foxes” could manage. They did pick up one touchdown when Joe Blaine pushed it over the goal line on a two-yard plunge. The play had been set up by a series of gains ending with a 15 yard pass from Tom to Jay Roberts, on a down-and-in pattern. Tom kicked the extra point while Tim held it for him. The score was 8-7, and that’s the way it ended.
On the bus, ready for their return trip to Foxville, the coach had a few words for his players. “At least we won half a game. We won all but the first few minutes. After that first touchdown, the defense was great, but we must do something to improve our scoring.
“Next week we’ll add a few plays and perhaps that will help us to score.”
It was after 10:30 when the bus unloaded the team at the Foxville High School.
“Get plenty of rest this weekend,” said Coach Andrews as the boys left the bus.
“Is there time for a hamburger, Coach?” asked Tiny Small. “I’m starved!”
“Yes, get something to eat and then get home. Eleven-thirty ought to be time enough.”
“Eleven-thirty?” whispered Tom to his brother, “At eleven-thirty our party will be just starting.”
