Kitabı oku: «Right Tackle Todd», sayfa 5

“You fondle that silly thing like it was a baby! What’s the idea, Jim?”

“Just want to – to get used to it,” replied Jim. “Want to know what I can do with it. You see, shaped like it is, you can’t handle it just like you can a round ball, Clem.”

“My word! Think of that! And you discovered that all by yourself, too, didn’t you?”

“Shut up,” said Jim, grinning. “Say, just stand over there and toss me a few, will you?”

“Toss you – No, I’ll be switched if I’m going to turn this room into a gridiron. First thing I know you’ll be moving the furniture out and kicking the thing around!”

But he did toss the ball to Jim in the end, and Jim caught it various ways, studying each way, while Clem looked on and waited for the return of the ball with the expression of one humoring a lunatic. So far as Clem ever discovered that ball was never taken out of Number 15, until it went out for good, but it certainly saw a lot of handling there!

The Thursday before the Southport game Jim played a full fifteen minutes against the second team, and busy, strenuous minutes they were. He had been tried at left tackle and right tackle, and had discovered no preference, but to-day he went in between Smith, substituting Captain Fingal, and Borden, the regular right end. There had already been a fifteen-minute scrimmage with the scrubs, in which the big team had scored a solitary touchdown, and now the scrubs were aching for vengeance. Jim had his hands very full with the opposing guard when the first team had the ball, for the guard played wide and Jim had a big stretch of line to cover. But he was fast, and it soon developed that plays sent through the right of its own line were netting the first team more than those on the other side. Jim usually beat his opponent on starting, and he came up hard, with his back straight and a lot of power in his charge. He made mistakes still and was “called down” half a dozen times for one thing or another. But even the most experienced fared not much better that day. Twice Jim spilled a runner behind the line – once, alas, receiving as his reward harsh words because he should have gone for the interference instead – and he tackled well, using his body and not relying on his arms alone. On the whole, while he made no spectacular plays that afternoon, Jim came out of the fifteen-minute session with his stock higher than it had been, and when the Alton paper published the day’s line-up on Saturday morning, the sixth line read: “Sawyer or Todd.” But then, a hard game was not looked for and Coach Cade had planned to use several substitutes at the start. As it turned out, Jim didn’t get in until the third period was half over and the game was laid safely away, the score 26 to 9. But he showed up rather well while he played, which was until he got a wrenched knee a scant three minutes before the end, and emerged with a nickname. When he came off, limping, some sympathetic freshman shouted, “Atta boy, Slim!” And “Slim” Todd it was thereafter.

CHAPTER IX
EXPERTS IN CONFERENCE

There was no work on Monday for those who had taken part in the Southport game. Even Jim, although he had contributed but some fifteen minutes of his time to the contest, was excused. The victory had been an easy one, but it had nevertheless cost Alton heavily, since four of the first and second-string men had met with injuries. Only Crumb had fared seriously, however, and not for several days was the full extent of his injury known to the school at large. Then it was learned that he had fractured some bone with an unpronounceable name, located in his left leg, and would be out of the game for some time. In fact, whether he could get around again in time for the Kenly game was problematic. This news was received with consternation, for Crumb had shown himself the best ground-gainer in the Gray-and-Gold backfield, the only one, indeed, who could be relied on for heavy line-smashes to produce short but certain gains. Weight, speed and fight made him an ideal full-back, and his loss, even if it proved only temporary, was going to be keenly felt. Tennyson, who must fill his shoes, was twelve pounds lighter and was an almost unknown quantity as yet. He had shown ability in practice and in the first two games, but had not played against Lorimer, nor against Southport until the last quarter was well along. However well he might develop, it seemed certain that he would never show either the power or the ding-dong fighting spirit that had made Tom Crumb’s work notable.

Jim’s knee responded readily to treatment, and he could have stood the gaff on Monday had he been allowed to, which he wasn’t. All he could do was go to the field and watch the first team substitutes practice and, later, get mauled about by the second. The only incident of interest to Jim occurred when Manager Woodruff found him on the stand and announced: “Todd, you’re to join the training table to-night.”

Jim blinked and considered. Then, “Well, I don’t know, Woodruff,” he said slowly. “I guess I’d just as lief not.”

“You – what?” gasped Lowell.

“Well, you see I’m getting on right well where I am, and I’m sort of used to the fellows.”

“You’re a queer guy,” said Lowell, feelingly. “Don’t you know that any other fellow would be tickled to death to be taken on?”

Jim pondered that. “No, I didn’t know,” he acknowledged finally. “Anyhow, I don’t really care two cents about it, and if there’s some one else that would like it – ”

“Can’t be done, Todd,” Lowell grinned. “Mr. Cade’s set his heart on you.”

“He says I’m to go?” asked Jim with more animation.

“He sure does. Them’s his orders, Todd. Show up this evening, eh?”

“Of course. I didn’t quite understand. Much obliged.”

“Quite welcome. Say, you’re getting along pretty well, aren’t you. How’s the ankle, by the way?”

“Ankle? Oh, it was my knee. It’s all right. Say, I guess maybe I acted sort of sour the other night.”

“What night was that?” asked Lowell.

“Up in that fellow’s room. What’s his name? The fellow who had the birthday cake. Yes, Landorf. Well, I guess I seemed like I didn’t want to talk.”

“Why, yes, I did get some such impression, Todd, but it was your say. If I didn’t want to talk, I wouldn’t. But I always do!”

“Well, it was like this.” Jim frowned slightly in the effort to explain. “I sort of thought you were kidding me.”

“Kidding you?”

“Yes, before that. Right along. You were always sort of telling me that I was getting on great, and things like that.”

“Well, Great Scott, so you were!”

“Maybe I was. I didn’t know. It didn’t seem so to me, anyhow. Seemed to me I was pretty stupid. And I thought you were sort of having a joke with me. I didn’t mind, exactly, only – Well, maybe I did mind a little.”

“But I wasn’t joking, Todd. I – look here, I’ll be honest. Remember how you up and flew the coop last Fall? That was Dolf Chapin’s fault. You needed a bit of patting on the back and encouragement to make you stick. He didn’t see it. So you got it into your head that nobody loved you and your pie was all crust. Well, I didn’t want it to happen again like that this year. Why, bless your dear heart, sonny, I’ve watched you the way a fond mother watches her favorite kid. Every time I’ve seen you sitting down there on the bench looking kind of lonesome I’ve had heart failure. I wanted to go over and tell you funny stories and sing songs and do tricks to bring the light of happiness back to your sad eyes! I dare say I sounded like a silly ass sometimes when I tried to cheer you up, but that was because you aren’t what I’d call responsive, Todd, and I always had the feeling that you thought I was a blamed pest. You know, anything like that does kind of take the zest from a chap’s conversation!”

Jim was smiling, and as Lowell paused he chuckled and said: “Gosh, I thought all the time that you thought I was rotten and didn’t know it, and were just having fun seeing how much I’d swallow! Say, I hope you’ll excuse me, Woodruff.”

“Sure will! Anyway, I fancy it was my – well – method of approach that was at fault. I was so gol-derned anxious to make you one of our happy little family so you wouldn’t jump the traces again that – well, I guess I was too anxious! Believe me, though, I wasn’t making fun of you, Todd. Wouldn’t have had a chance, anyway. Why, hang it, you’ve made more progress than any geezer in the bunch! You didn’t know much football, when you come right down to it, and you learned. Now you know more than a lot of the fellows who have been playing for four or five years.”

“Me?” ejaculated Jim. He looked at Lowell with something of the old suspicion. But the manager met his eyes squarely and nodded emphatically.

“You, Todd! Why, you’re coming ahead so fast that you’ve got Johnny Cade blinking. I could tell you something that would make you open your eyes, but I mustn’t. Well, I’ve got to be getting back down there and earning my princely wage. Don’t forget to show up at training table to-night. I’m responsible for you.”

“I won’t. And – say, I’m glad you really think I’m getting on. It was right hard at first to get the hang of things. Maybe I ain’t got the hang of ’em yet, but I guess I’m some better.”

“Rather! That’s speaking very mildly, too. See you later!”

Being only human, Jim sat there and basked in the sunshine of Lowell’s praise for some time. He had worked hard and faithfully and until now he had never been assured that he had really won success. Of course, Clem had spoken encouragingly many times, but Clem was a friend and no football man and maybe didn’t know. Lowell Woodruff was different. Lowell knew football and football players and he was on the inside. Jim hugged his knees and felt that life was a very satisfactory affair. And then, when practice was over, he followed the players back to the gymnasium, realized that he had no reason for going inside and so wandered across the campus and through State street and at the next corner met with an encounter that caused him to reconsider his opinion of life.

There was a conference in Coach Cade’s quarters that Monday evening. The coach occupied rooms in the old-fashioned white house at the corner of Academy and State streets, opposite the main gate to the campus. His living-room was a comfortable place of faded carpet and old walnut furniture brightened by such modern things as a handsome electric lamp on the big round table, a steel filing cabinet and many books and magazines littering the apartment. To-night were present the host himself, Captain Gus Fingal, Lowell Woodruff, Johnny Barr, Pep Kinsey, Steve Whittier, Rolls Roice, Billy Frost and Charley Levering. Coach Cade, seated by the table, held several sheets of paper in one hand and a briar pipe in the other. The visitors sat around the table or adjacent to it and were respectfully attentive to the coach’s words.

“I thought,” Mr. Cade was saying in his quiet, pleasant voice, “it was about time for some of us to get together and look over the ground. I asked two or three more to be present to-night, but I don’t see them. Perhaps they’ll show up later.”

“My fault, Coach,” said Lowell. “I couldn’t get in touch with them in time.”

“Then it wasn’t your fault, Lowell. But there are enough of us here to discuss things, and a discussion is about all I had in mind. You see, fellows, Saturday’s game finished the half-season. From now on we’ll be pointing to the Kenly game. What comes before that must be met as best it can. Our job now, and it’s a big job, too, is to build up for Kenly Hall.”

“Don’t forget Mount Millard, Mr. Cade,” said Billy Frost. “We’ve got to lick them, sir, after what they did to us last year!”

“We’ll do our best, Frost, but we mustn’t go out of our way much. So far, we’ve come along pretty easily, fellows. We’re fairly well grounded in the rudiments, although there’s still chance for improvement, of course, and we’ve developed some team play. Now, however, we’ve got to consider a plan of campaign. In doing that we must take into account our own material and Kenly’s, decide what sort of a game we are best fitted to play and what style of game we may expect from the enemy. The one outstanding feature of our team so far is speed. We’ve shown more speed than we showed at any time last year, and I’m convinced that we can show still more. I like speed, fellows, speed in starting and speed afterwards. I’ve seen a fast team win from a team that knew more football and played far smoother more than once, only because the better team – better theoretically, that is – lacked speed. The simplest plays will go well if they go fast, and the cleverest, most deceptive ones will fail if they’re run off slow.

“This year we’ve got a fast line and a fast backfield. We aren’t quite as heavy in the line as we were either last year or the year before that, and we don’t begin to have the weight in the backfield. But lack of weight can be more than offset by speed, and so it’s speed and more speed that we must go after. It’s rather early to say what we’re to expect from Kenly. She’s made a good start, but no better than our own, and hasn’t had to show anything but ordinary formations and old-stock plays. But we know that she’s got most of her last year’s line back again and three or four of the backs that gave us so much trouble. Her line is heavy and her backfield’s heavy, and it’s reasonable to suppose that she’ll build her game on those facts. Kenly has always favored the line-smashing game and I’d be surprised if she changed much this year. However, we’ll know more about that later.”

Mr. Cade studied a paper a moment. “It comes to this, then,” he resumed. “Granted that Kenly will rely on line bucks and runs outside tackles for most of her gains, it’s up to us to build a defense that will meet that style of play. Weight won’t do it, for she’ll beat us there. She’ll go through us if we give her the start. The only way to stop her is to not let her get started. We must get the jump on her, fellows, and that means speed. If we can hold her in the line we can meet her on equal terms in other departments, I think. We may even have a slight edge on her when it comes to the kicking game. What Kenly will bring in the way of forward passes I can’t say. That, too, is something we’ll have to get a line on later. But she has never been dangerous with her overhead stuff. Her coach has never taken to that style of game much. But if she does develop a good passing game we’ve got to meet it with the same stuff, speed. Speed, then, is going to be the big cry here this Fall. I want to impress that fact on you here and now. I want you to go away from here thinking speed, and I want you to keep right on thinking it until the last play of the Kenly game is over.

“Now let’s talk about offense a little. For the sake of argument, we’ll say that we’ve got the edge on Kenly for fast playing. We’ll assume that our line charges quicker than hers, that our backs get started faster and run faster, that we pull off our plays and our kicks faster. Now, then, what sort of an attack are we going to use? What style of offense are we going to build on? What do you think, Captain Fingal?”

“If we’re faster than Kenly, and speed makes up for the difference in weight, we’re starting even, aren’t we?”

“Possibly, yes. We’ll say so.”

“Then we can play any style there is, can’t we? I mean, Coach, we stand just as good a chance of making our line plays good as she does; and the same with kicks and passes and end runs.”

“True, assuming that the teams are evenly balanced, which we are assuming. But what we want for an attack isn’t something just as good, Gus, but something better. Now, suppose – ”

“I’d say we ought to dope out a passing and running game, Coach,” broke in Pep Kinsey. “Something based on speed that might take them off their feet. Say we had a formation that was good for a punt or a pass or a run outside tackle. Then suppose we put a lot of fizz into it and had them guessing what was coming. If Tom Crumb’s out of the game we can’t look for a whole lot against their line between tackles, I guess. I don’t know how Sam Tennyson will develop, but he’s light, sir, and the rest of us aren’t whales. I guess you’ve got the right dope, all right, when you talk speed!”

“A corking good passing game is our best bet, Mr. Cade,” offered Levering. “Don’t you think so, sir?”

“I’ll tell you what I think, Levering. I think whatever we build on that thing’s got to have speed underneath it. All right. Here’s speed.” He held a hand out, palm upward. “Now what? What shall we put on next for a second story?”

There was a moment’s silence. Then the quarter-back spoke eagerly. “Deception!”

“Right! Speed and deception, fellows. That’s a tough combination to beat. And it’s tougher than ever if the other fellow is slow in getting off. Kinsey’s idea of a triple-threat formation is what I’ve had in mind. That’s what we ought to have, I’m sure. Last Fall showed me one thing conclusively, and that is that having more than two formations, one for kicking and one for everything else, is a big mistake. You remember that we changed our backfield all about when we made a forward-pass. Of course, we did run from that formation now and then, but the thing was a give-away, just the same. When Kenly saw that ‘C Formation’ she knew pretty well what to expect, and after the first half she looked for a pass every time and, if I remember correctly, we made just five out of fourteen attempts. This year I propose that we find a formation for the backs that will answer every purpose of attack, even punting. When we decide on that we’ll build our plays on the formation instead of suiting the formation to the plays.”

“That sounds good,” said Gus. “Only I don’t just see how it’s to be done. If we place our backs too far behind the line we can’t get them through on quick openings. If we put Steve too close he won’t be able to get punts off before Kenly gets on top of him.”

“As for the latter,” said Coach Cade, “I don’t agree. Remember, Gus, we’re building on speed. If Steve gets his kicks off a bit quicker than he does now he can kick from nearer the line.”

“Besides,” said Pep, “how is Kenly going to know that it is a kick if Steve doesn’t go back? Seems to me that’s the beauty of it. Keep ’em guessing every minute! Hot stuff!”

“We’ll take up the matter of that formation later,” said the coach. “Just now there’s another thing I want to talk about. What kind of a passing game can we work out? I have my own idea, but I’d like to hear from you.”

“Whatever it is, it’s got to be a heap better than last year’s,” said Rolls Roice. “As you said, Coach, they were looking for our tosses every time toward the last and they didn’t go for a hang. If Kenly had had the sense to grab the ball sometimes instead of knocking it down she’d have licked us worse than she did.”

“There’s one thing about the passing game,” said the coach. “If you can’t have a good one you’re better off with none. And having a good one isn’t so easy. You can plan it out on paper so that it looks like a world-beater, but if your ends and backs can’t reach the ball and handle it perfectly, your plan’s a fizzle. You didn’t have much luck last year, Pep, and neither did Knowles or Suydman. Catches were mighty few, even when there was a fair chance. I’m not saying this in criticism of you, but just to emphasize the fact that it’s the individual player who counts in the passing game, and that if we’re to show anything in that line, anything worth while, we’ve got to go into the business in real earnest. Half the value of the forward pass is in keeping the opponent scared. If you have a passing game and he knows it, he’s looking for it more than half the time. But you’ve got to really have something. If you haven’t, he soon discovers it and pulls his backfield in. Just as long as you’ve got the goods, even if you don’t deliver them, he will play a fifth man back and weaken his line by just so much. That fifth man is almost invariably the center, and a quick plunge at the center position will usually gain. Personally, I think that no one has yet discovered nearly all the possibilities of the forward-pass as an offensive play. I believe that, unless a change in the playing rules comes that will place restrictions on the pass, another five years will see the old line-plunging game subordinated to it. But I’m getting away from the business of this gathering.

“Suppose you fellows put your minds to work along the lines suggested this evening. Start with the fact that, no matter what else we have when we meet Kenly, we’re going to have speed, and lots of it. Then try to think of the best way to use that speed on attack. I’ll take care of using it for defense. Figure out a – let us call it an all-purpose formation, a formation from which we can hit the line, run the ends, punt and pass. It’s possible. I’m not certain that the Princeton formation doesn’t come pretty close to it except as to punting. Anyhow, put your minds to work, fellows, and see what comes of it. We’ll get together again Wednesday evening here, and we’ll try to get more of the team on hand. Remind me about that, Mister Manager, and I’ll tell you who I want here that evening.”

“Shucks,” said Charley Levering, “I never could dope out plays. On paper, I mean.”

“As long as you dope them out on the field we’ll be satisfied,” replied Mr. Cade. “I’m not looking for plays from you, Levering. We can find plenty of those when we’re ready for them. What I want is ideas. You know the team and you know pretty well what its merits are and what its faults are. Credit it with speed. You can do that fairly enough, for I’ll say frankly that you fellows look mighty good to me at that angle. Then try to think up the sort of game we can best play to make full use of that speed. Never mind trick plays and all that sort of thing. Those will come later. Consider the Kenly game as a campaign and decide how, if you were the General in command of our Army, you’d conduct it. Not as to detail. A General can’t foresee the skirmishes, sometimes not even the battles. The best he can do is plan. I’m hoping that some of you will bring ideas that will help in determining our campaign. Two heads are better than one, you know, and so eight ought to be still better. Now, if any one likes Swiss cheese, made in Wisconsin, and pilot bread and ginger ale, we’ll blow the whistle!”