Bert Wilson on the Gridiron

by Madeline Leslie

  CHAPTER V

  TACKLING THE ARMY

  "THIS looks like a case of bearding the lion in his den," remarked Dick,as the stately steamer on which they had embarked at New York thatmorning swept up to the landing at West Point, and the boys weregathering up their traps to go ashore.

  "It's certainly a stiff contract to tackle the future leaders of theUnited States Army," replied Tom. "But we're the boys to do it, and tolick them, too. If that be treason, make the most of it."

  "Don't you be too sure of that," admonished Bert. "From all I hear,they're a husky set of brutes, and we're likely to have our hands full.They've never been easy picking and we'd better postpone our jubileetill after the game."

  "Punk philosophy," countered Tom. "Let's have it now and make sure ofit."

  He was clearly a hopeless case, and they gave up the task of subduinghis levity, and started for the gang plank.

  It was a large party that had come up the river on that glorious day inearly October, to test the prowess and mettle of the cadets. The teamitself with the substitutes numbered over thirty, and there was a smallarmy of rubbers and other attendants. To these were added severalhundred of the college boys, and these were further reinforced by a hostof "old grads" who sniffed the battle from afar and couldn't resist thetemptation to "come on along," and root for the youngsters on theirscalp-hunting expedition.

  The game with the Army was always one of the events of the footballseason. Although not ranked with the "big three," they followed closebehind, and once in a while gave the "top-liners" a hard struggle toavoid defeat. Only the year before, they had held the Blues to a 6 to 0score, and on a muddy field had played a tie with the "Maroons" after aHomeric contest. They were not "easy meat" for any one, and the coachesof every team had learned not to hold them lightly.

  This year, disquieting rumors had leaked out from West Point as to thestrength of the team. They were said to have the heaviest aggregationbehind the line that they had had in twenty years, and it was freelypredicted that here, if anywhere, the Blues might find themselvesovermatched. The fullback was a new recruit who weighed close to twohundred pounds, and despite his weight was said to be as fast as greasedlightning. The two halves were both veterans, and one of them theprevious season had been picked for the All-American team in hisposition. In addition they had a powerful set of guards and tackles, andit was universally acknowledged that their quarterback was one that itwould be hard to match on any of the big teams.

  Still the Blues were not greatly stirred up by this advance information.If they were to be "licked," it would have to be by actual speed andmuscle on the field, and not by "dope" that might prove fallacious.

  "They can't come too big or heavy to suit," philosophized Drake. "Thebigger they are the harder they fall."

  There was a stiff wind blowing when the rival teams came on the field,and in the toss for position the Army won. As the teams lined up for thekick-off, there was a tremendous outburst of cheers from the Armysupporters who, of course, vastly outnumbered the loyal Blues who hadaccompanied their team. What the latter lacked in numbers, however, wasmade up by the enthusiasm with which they cheered the wearers of theBlue colors, that had waved triumphantly over so many hard-foughtfields, and which, they hoped, was now to add another trophy to theirlist.

  Since the Blues had lost the toss for position, they were entitled tothe kick-off. Bert took careful aim and lifted the ball far and high.Ordinarily it would have been good for at least fifty yards, but thewind limited it to thirty-five. Caldwell was down under it like a flash,but Birch, of the Army, made a fair catch and kicked back for twentyyards. Drake got possession of the ball, and the Blues had it on theArmy's forty yard line.

  A forward pass, superbly engineered by Tom, gave them twelve yards. Theygained eight more on two successive downs, but were penalized five yardsfor off-side play. On the next play they gained their distance, but onthe next, in attempting to skirt the end, Axtell dropped the ball, andthe Army left pounced upon it instantly.

  It was now the Army's ball, and they immediately started to try aplunging game. The Blue line held like a rock, however, and then theArmy tried one of their favorite formations. They lined up as though fora kick, but the back who had dropped behind as if for that purpose,either tried a forward pass or made a quick dash around the ends. Tocomplicate the play still further, it was sometimes passed to stillanother back before the attempt was made. It was a clever "fake," andagainst a weaker or slower team might have worked. But the Blues hadpracticed many a weary hour in breaking up just such a combination, andthey met it and smothered it so effectually, that before long the Armyrecognized its futility and fell back on straight football.

  And here for the first quarter they fairly held their own. McAlpin,their giant fullback, proved a tower of strength, and when he was giventhe ball plunged through the line like a thunderbolt. There seemed to beno holding him, and his team backed him up so powerfully that he madehis distance easily on the four downs. The ball was still in the Army'spossession when the referee's whistle announced the end of the firstquarter, and the field was swept by the cheers of the cadets at thegallant way in which their favorites had made a stand against the mostfamous team in the country.

  In the short rest between quarters, there was a hurried council of theBlues.

  "Buck up, fellows, for heaven's sake," urged Bert. "We mustn't let theseArmy men outplay us. What'll the boys at home think of us? They'vealready got the bulletin of this quarter, and they're wondering what onearth is the matter with us. Get a move on now and show them some realfootball. Just go in and eat them up."

  This was an eminently desirable thing from the Blue standpoint, but thecadets refused to subscribe to such a cannibal programme. They were notready to glut anybody's appetite. On the contrary, their own was whettedby their sturdy resistance so far, and their ambition was rapidlygrowing. They had really not had much idea of winning at the outset. Itwould have been almost more than they dared to hope to hold thesedoughty warriors to a tie. Failing that, they hoped possibly to crossthe enemy's goal line for at least one score or perhaps more. But theirwildest hopes had hardly soared so high as to count on actual victory.Now, however, that they had locked horns with their adversaries andfound to their delight and surprise that they were holding them on eventerms, they were fired with a mighty determination to win.

  Nor did the second quarter dim their hopes. The Blues had not yet foundthemselves. There was a cog missing somewhere in the machinery.Technically, their playing was not open to much adverse criticism. Theirpassing was accurate and their tackling fair, but they were toomechanical and automatic. They needed something to wake them up.

  That something came more quickly than any one expected. Out of ascrimmage on the forty yard line of the Army, a flying figure emerged,with the ball tucked under his arm. Twisting, dodging, ducking, hethreaded his way through the field, bowling over Caldwell, eludingAxtell's outstretched arms and bearing down upon the Blue goal. As heneared Bert, who was running in a diagonal line to head him off, heswerved sharply to the right in an attempt to pass this last obstaclebetween him and a touchdown. But in a twinkling Bert had launchedhimself against him, gauging the distance unerringly, and they both cameheavily to the ground on the Blue's ten yard line.

  It was the Army's ball with only ten yards to go! The stands wentfrantic as the teams lined up for a last desperate trial of strength.The Blues were thoroughly awake now. All their apathy was gone at thismoment of deadly peril, and they swore to themselves to hold thatprecious ten yards if they died in doing it.

  The jubilant Army men called on McAlpin, their giant fullback, to buckthe line. He went into it like a maddened bull, but Dick at centerrefused to give an inch. He tried again at left and made two yardsthrough Ellis. A hole made by his guards between Axtell and Martinyielded three more. Five yards yet to go and only one chance left! Oncemore he braced and hurled himself savagely against the right side of theline. But Bert was crouching there in readiness, his s
ix feet of boneand muscle instinct with power and resolution. He went into McAlpin likea human pile driver, and threw him back for a loss of four yards. Thegoal was safe and the ball belonged to the Blues on their ten yard line.It had been a close call, and a murmur of disappointment went up fromthe Army partisans, while the Blue stands rocked with applause.

  The elevens lined up and Tom snapped the ball to Dick, who passed it toBert, five feet behind the line. The ball rose from his toe like a birdand soared down to the forty yard line. From there the Blues rushed itdown to within thirty yards of the Army goal before the whistleannounced the end of the second quarter.

  It was a different crowd that gathered in the Blues' dressing rooms inthe interval that followed. That threat against their goal line was theelectric spark that was necessary in order to shock them into action.They were worked up to fighting pitch. Their eyes were blazing, theirfeatures grim, and "Bull" Hendricks, who was primed to lash them to thebone with his bitter tongue, wisely forebore. He saw that they werefairly fuming with eagerness for the fray, and after making some minorchanges in the line-up--Ellis having sprained his ankle and Caldwellbroken a finger--he sent them out with the single exhortation to"hammer the heart out of them."

  It wasn't as classic as Wellington's "Up, Guards, and at them," butquite as effective. Against that electrified and rejuvenated team, theArmy didn't have a chance. Their highly raised hopes went glimmeringbefore the raging onslaught of the Blues. Every man worked as though theoutcome of the game depended upon him alone. They plunged into thecrumbling lines of the Army like so many wild men. Their opponentsfought back nobly, furiously, desperately, but to no avail. The "class"was with the Blues, and as this fact was driven home to the spectators,deep gloom settled over the Army stands, while from the opposite sidethe old college song went booming down the field.

  The Blues were bent on massacre. They charged hard and played fast. Dickplunged through the line again and again like a battering ram fortremendous gains. Tom did some dazzling running back of punts. Drake hitthe forwards hard and often, and Axtell tackled with deadly accuracy,laying out his victims all over the field.

  As for Bert at fullback, no such demon playing had been seen at WestPoint for a generation. His handling of the forward pass was a delightto the eye, and even the hostile stands were stirred at times toinvoluntary applause. Twice he carried the ball over for atouchdown--once by straight bucking and again by a spectacular run offifty-five yards through a broken field. The quarter ended with a resultof 15 to 0 in favor of the visitors.

  From that time on, it was only a question of the size of the score. Thebattle had become a rout. In the last quarter the ball was in the Armyterritory all the time. There was no necessity now for tricks to furtherbefuddle the demoralized cadets. By "straight football" the Bluespursued their victorious course down the field and added two more goalsbefore the game was called, with the ball on the fifteen yard line, anddestined, had the play continued two minutes longer, to make a finaltouchdown. It was a dashing victory, gallantly won after an inauspiciousstart. The weary players drew the first long breath they had permittedthemselves since the start of the game. The cadets, game as pebbles,gave their conquerors the rousing Army cheer and the Blues respondedvigourously. The rival teams fraternized for a while and then the Bluesretired to their quarters to dress and make their "get-away."

  Naturally, despite the immense fatigue that weighed them down, they weretingling with exultation. It was the first time they had been pittedagainst a really big team, and they had clearly outclassed them. Thecontests with the smaller colleges had been little more than practice,and in most cases the scrub could have won as certainly if not asoverwhelmingly as the 'Varsity. And the victory to-day had been won notby a "fluke," but by clearcut playing. To be sure, the memory of thefirst part of the game kept rising up like Banquo's ghost to make themuncomfortable. But they had redeemed that so royally in the final halfas to silence the most captious critic.

  Moreover, they had come through that crucial contest in good shape.There had been no serious accident to weaken the team. The injuries toEllis and Caldwell were only trivial and in a week they would be as wellas ever. Of course there were minor wounds and bruises galore, but theywere incident to the hardening process and were of no consequence.

  The mere fact that they had won, satisfying as it was, counted forlittle compared with the enormous benefit of the game in welding theteam together. It had taken eleven stars and molded them into a team. Noindividual brilliancy, however great, can atone for the lack of teamwork. To-day they had tested each other, supported each other, playedinto each other's hands, forgotten that they were anything but parts ofone great, smoothly moving, swiftly running machine. And, having sotested his fellows, each one would play with the confidence andself-forgetfulness that alone can win a championship.

  For all these reasons, it was a very hilarious bunch that foregatheredin the dressing rooms and tumbled into their clothes, after the soothingministrations of shower and rubdown.

  "I guess we're poor, eh, old top," chuckled Tom, as he poked Bert in theribs.

  "Ouch," responded that worthy, "haven't I been punched enough to-daywithout you soaking me? I'm black and blue all over."

  "I don't wonder," put in Dick. "The way that big McAlpin lammed into youwas a crime. He piled on me in one of the scrimmages, and I thought theFlatiron building had fallen."

  "He's a tough bird, all right," said Drake, "but he ran up against atougher one when he tried to go through Bert for that last down in thesecond quarter. I never saw anything prettier than the way Bert flunghim back as though he had been a lightweight. I caught the bewilderedlook on his face as he went over. He didn't know for a minute what hadhit him."

  "It was the only thing that saved us from being scored on," saidMartin. "It's the tightest place we've been in so far this season."

  "Well, a miss is as good as a mile," said Bert, slipping on his coat."But hurry up, you fellows, and let us tackle some eats. I'm so hungrythat it hurts."

  He had struck a responsive chord and in a few minutes they were on theirway to the mess hall of the cadets, who had insisted that they should betheir guests at supper.

  To reach the dining hall they had to cross the baseball field, abandonednow in the early fall, but the scene of fierce diamond battles earlierin the season. To Bert and Tom and Dick it brought back the memory ofthe great game they had played there two years before--a game that hadgone into extra innings, and had been won by a wonderful bit of playingon the part of Tom who was holding down third.

  "Remember that game, Tom?" asked Bert.

  "O, no," mocked Dick. "He doesn't remember. A man who has made a tripleplay unassisted never thinks of it again."

  "He's blushing," exclaimed Drake. "Look at him, fellows. What ashrinking violet."

  Tom made a pass at him.

  "A mere bit of luck," he countered. "You fellows give me a pain."

  But there had been no luck about it. The game had been bitterly fought,and at the end of the ninth the score was a tie. The Blues had got a manround in the tenth, and the cadets went in to do or die. Before long thecrowds were on their feet and screaming like maniacs. There was a man onthird, another on second, nobody out, and the heaviest slugger in thenine was at the bat. Amid exhortations to "kill it," he caught the ballsquarely on the end of his bat and sent it whistling toward third abouttwo feet over Tom's head. He made a tremendous leap, reaching up hisgloved hand, and the ball stuck there. The batter was out, but the manon third, thinking it was a sure hit, was racing like mad to the plate.As Tom came down he landed squarely on the bag, thus putting out therunner, who had by this time realized his mistake and was tryingdesperately to get back. In the meantime, the man on second, who hadtaken a big lead, was close to third. As he turned to go back to second,Tom chased him and touched him out just before he reached the bag. Thegame was won, three men were out, and the bewildered spectators wererubbing their eyes and trying to make out just what had happened. Theyhad se
en a "triple play unassisted," the thing that every player dreamsof making, and one of the rarest feats ever pulled off on the baseballdiamond.

  "We've certainly got the edge on Uncle Sam's boys in both baseball andfootball," commented Dick, in discussing the incident, "but it's only anedge. They always make us extend ourselves to win."

  They had a royal time at the mess hall and afterward at the barracks,where both the vanquished and victors mingled on terms of the mostcordial good fellowship. But the demands of training were not to be setaside, and all too soon they were forced to tear themselves away andrepair to their hotel. By ten o'clock they were in their beds, lightswere out, and they were sleeping as only a college team can sleep aftera day of such storm and stress.

  After Reddy had made his rounds and assured himself that all his chargeshad retired, he joined "Bull" Hendricks for a chat and smoke over theday's happenings. Few things had escaped their keen eyes during thatcrowded hour, when conditions and formations changed with the swiftnessof a kaleidoscope. And now that it was all over, they could recall everyplay, every gain, every fumble, every pass, with a precision that wouldhave been astounding to any one less versed than they in every turn andangle of the game.

  Their mood was one of deep, if quiet, satisfaction. A long and bitterexperience had made them cautious in prediction. They were by no meansready to admit yet, even to themselves, that they had a team of "worldbeaters." There were still a host of faults to be corrected, of rawedges to be polished off, of plays to be developed. But, on the whole,the boys had done surprisingly well. The dogged way in which they hadheld the enemy when their goal was threatened was worthy of the best"bulldog" tradition. And the slashing, ding dong way in which they hadworked the ball down the field in the last half had been gratifyingbeyond words. It showed that the "never say die" spirit, that they hadtried so hard to instill, was there in abundance.

  There was still another cause for congratulation. They had not beenforced to uncover any of the new tricks that they were holding inreserve for the championship games. At one point, in the early part ofthe game, they had feared this might be necessary, but the quickrecovery later on had enabled them to depend upon straight football. Thescouts for the "Greys" and "Maroons," several of whom had been "spotted"in the stands, had had "their trouble for their pains," and the coachwas greatly elated in consequence.

  "They'll go home with an empty bag from this day's hunting," hechuckled.

  "They sure will," assented Reddy, as he filled and lighted his faithfulcob. "And I'm thinking 'tis a little bit shaky they are, after seeingthe way we ripped up the Army line."

  "That boy Wilson is certainly a hummer," commented Hendricks, flickingthe ash from his cigar. "I haven't seen such plunging and line buckingsince the days of Heffelfinger. You could no more stop him than youcould a runaway horse."

  "He's all there, full sixteen ounces to the pound," was Reddy's emphaticendorsement. "I've seen some crack fullbacks in my time, but none to tophim. He's got the weight, he's got the speed, and as for nerve, begorra!Did ye note the way he toyed with that big rhinoceros, McAlpin?"

  "What he did to him was plenty," laughed Hendricks. "I guess that's oneposition we don't need to worry about any longer. And I'm feeling prettygood, too, about Trent and Henderson. They worked together at quarterand center like a pair of shears. Axtell tackled like a tiger, and if hekeeps it up, we can count on him as a fixture. And Drake, too, did somedandy work at end. Did you see the way he got down under Wilson's punts?Johnny-on-the-spot, every time the ball came down."

  "For them five positions there's nothing better in sight," said Reddy.

  "I rather think so," acquiesced the coach. "There's only one weak spotin the back field, and that's at left half. Martin, for some reason,isn't playing his game. He's too slow in starting, and he doesn't tackleas hard and fast as he ought to. Then, too, he's a little bit thick whenit comes to the signals. He got mixed up twice to-day, and he was all atsea on that 'fake' pass in the second quarter. He needs more blackboardwork, and I'm going to see that he gets it.

  "But it's in the line that we've got to make some changes. Most of theforwards to-day would have been 'pie' for the 'Greys' or 'Maroons.' Ican excuse Caldwell for not playing his best, since he broke his fingerin the beginning of the game and nobody knew it until twenty minuteslater. Plucky of the youngster, but he ought to have told us. Ellis isall right, but that's the second time his bum ankle has given way, and Idon't know whether he can stand the strain of a big game. Hodge has gotthe weight and the strength, but he leaves too much of the work toTrent. As for Boyd, I'm afraid he lacks sand."

  "I saw him flinch to-day, when McAlpin piled into him," mused Reddy.

  "I'm going to try out Warren a little longer," went on Hendricks."There's good stuff in that boy, but I'm afraid there's hardly enoughbeef. But he's trying all the time, and never lets up till the whistleblows. Perhaps I'll let him change places with Martin and see how itworks. He's quick as a flash and an expert at dodging, and he may make abetter back than he is a tackle. We'll shift him there for a tryout.

  "I'll have to keep quite a bunch of them 'under suspicion' for some timeyet, and we may have quite a different line up by November. But, take itall in all, I'm not kicking at the way we're going along, so early inthe season. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't let them know for a farm howgood I really feel over their showing. I'd like to get a line, though,on the other teams. By the way, I saw you talking with Bushnell, the old'Grey' quarter. Did that Irish blarney of yours get anything out ofhim?"

  "Niver a bit," mourned Reddy. "I did me best, but he was asclose-mouthed as a clam. I ran across a reporter though, who's been downthat way lately, and he says they're going great guns in practice."

  "They're the fellows we've got to beat. That agrees with everything I'veheard from that quarter. We're heavier and I think we're faster than the'Maroons' this year. But from all accounts the 'Greys' have goteverything, and then some. They'll take a lot of beating."

  "Hivin send that they take it instead of giving it," ejaculated Reddy;and with Hendricks' grunted indorsement of this pious wish, the captainand first mate of the football craft parted for the night.