Right Guard Grant

“Oh, I don’t know,” Leonard murmured. “I’m pretty green at it.”

“You’ll do,” said Billy. “But, say, mind if I give you a couple of tips? It may sound cheeky, but – ”

“Gee, not a bit!” protested the other. “I wish you would. I – it’s mighty good of you.”

“Well, I don’t pretend to know everything about playing tackle,” Billy answered, “but there are one or two things I have learned, and I’m glad to pass them on to you, Grant, because you play a pretty nice game. Maybe if you were pressing me a bit closer for the position I wouldn’t be so gabby.” Billy grinned. “One thing is this, son. Watch the other fellow’s eyes and not his hands. I noticed you kept looking at my hands or my arms. Don’t do it. Not, at least, if you want to get the jump on your opponent. Watch his eyes, son. Another thing is, don’t give yourself away by shifting too soon. You come forward every time with the foot that’s going to take your weight. There are several ways of standing, and it’s best to stand the way that suits you, but I like to keep my feet about even. That doesn’t give me away. Then when I do start it’s too late for the other fellow to do any guessing. See what I mean?”

Leonard nodded, but a little doubtfully. “I think so. But we were taught to put one foot well behind us so we’d have a brace if the opponent – ”

“Sure, that’s all right if you’ve got to let the other fellow get away first. But you don’t need to. You start before he does, Grant. Look.” Billy held his hands out, palms upward, elbows close to his body. “Come up under him like that, both legs under you until you’re moving forward. Then step out, right or left, and get your leverage. Push him straight back or pivot him. You haven’t given yourself away by moving your feet about or shifting your weight beforehand. You try it some time.”

“I will, thanks,” answered Leonard gratefully.

“And there’s one more thing.” There was a wicked glint in Billy’s eyes. “Keep your head down so the other fellow can’t get under your chin. I’ve known fellows to get hurt that way.”

Leonard smiled. “So have I,” he said.

Billy laughed and slapped him on the knee. “You’ll do, General Grant,” he declared. He turned to Jim Newton, and Leonard, considering what he had been told, didn’t note for a moment that Gordon Renneker was speaking across the room to Slim. When he did, Renneker was saying:

“Baseball? No, very little. I’ve got a brother who goes in for it, though.”

“Oh,” replied Slim, “I thought maybe you pitched. You’ve sort of got the build, you know, Renneker. Hasn’t he, Charlie?”

Charlie Edwards agreed that he had, looking the big guard up and down speculatively. Renneker shrugged his broad shoulders and smiled leniently. “Never tried it,” he said in his careful way. “The few times I have played I’ve been at first. But I’m no baseball artist.”

“First, eh?” commented Slim. “By Jove, you know, you ought to make a corking first baseman! Say, Charlie, you’d better get after him in the spring.”

Edwards nodded and answered: “I certainly mean to, Slim.”

Nevertheless it seemed to Leonard that the baseball captain’s tone lacked enthusiasm. Slim, Leonard noted, was smiling complacently, and Leonard thought he knew what was in his chum’s mind. Shortly after that the crowd broke up and on the way over to Haylow Slim asked: “Did you hear what Renneker said when I asked him if he played baseball?”

“Yes,” said Leonard. Slim hadn’t once mentioned the subject of Johnny McGrath’s suspicions since that Sunday afternoon, and Leonard had concluded that the matter was forgotten. Now, however, it seemed that it had remained on Slim’s mind, just as it had on his.

“He said,” mused Slim, “that he didn’t play. At least very little. Then he said that when he did play he played at first base. What do you make of that, General?”

“Very little. Naturally, if he should play baseball he’d go on first, with that height and reach of his. I noticed that Edwards didn’t seem very keen about him for the nine.”

“Yes, I noticed that, too.” Slim relapsed into a puzzled silence. Then, at last, just as they reached the dormitory entrance, he added: “Oh, well, I guess Johnny just sort of imagined it.”

“I suppose so,” Leonard agreed. “Only, if he didn’t – ”

“If he didn’t, what?” demanded Slim.

“Why, wouldn’t it be up to us – or Johnny McGrath – to tell Mr. Cade or some one?”

“And get Renneker fired?” inquired Slim incredulously, as he closed the door of Number 12 behind him.

“Well, but, if he took money for playing baseball, Slim, he hasn’t any right on the football team, has he? Didn’t you say yourself that faculty would fire him if it was so, and they knew it?”

“If they knew it, yes,” agreed Slim. “Now, look here, General, there’s no sense hunting trouble. We don’t know anything against Renneker, and so there’s no reason for starting a rumpus. A fellow is innocent until he’s proven guilty, and it’s not up to us to pussyfoot about and try to get the goods on Renneker. Besides, ding bust it, there’s only Johnny McGrath’s say-so, and every one knows how – er – imaginative the Irish are!”

“All right,” agreed Leonard, smiling. “Just the same, Slim, you aren’t fooling me much. You believe there’s something in Johnny’s story, just as I do.”

“Piffle,” answered Slim. “Johnny’s a Sinn Feiner. The Irish are all alike. They believe in fairies. You just can’t trust the unsupported statement of a chap who believes in fairies!”

“You surely can work hard to fool yourself,” laughed Leonard. “I suppose you’re right, Slim, but it would be sort of rotten if one of the other schools got hold of it and showed Renneker up.”

“Not likely, General. You stop troubling your brain about it. Best thing to do is forget it. That’s what I’m going to do. Besides, I keep telling you there’s nothing in it.”

“I know. And I want to believe it just as much as you do, only – ”

“There isn’t any ‘only!’ Dry up, and put the light out!”

On Saturday Leonard was very glad indeed that, in Slim’s words, there wasn’t any ‘only,’ for without Gordon Renneker the Mt. Millard game might have ended differently. Renneker found himself in that contest. Slim always maintained that the explanation lay in the fact that Renneker’s opponent, one Whiting, was, like Renneker, a big, slow-moving fellow who relied more on strength than speed; and Slim supported this theory by pointing out that in the last quarter, when a quicker and scrappier, though lighter, man had taken Whiting’s place Renneker had relapsed into his customary form. Leonard reminded Slim that by that time Renneker had played a long, hard game and was probably tired out. Slim, however, remained unconvinced. But whatever the reason may have been, the big right guard on the Alton team played nice, steady football that Saturday afternoon. His work on defense was better than his performance when the Gray-and-Gold had the ball, just as it had been all season. He seemed to lack aggression in attack. But Coach Cade found encouragement and assured himself that Renneker could be taught to play a better offensive game by the time the Kenly Hall contest faced them. The big guard had been causing him not a little worry of late.

Mt. Millard brought over a clever, fast team that day. Her line was only a few pounds lighter than Alton’s, but in the backfield the Gray-and-Gold had it all over her in weight, even when Menge was playing. Mt. Millard’s backs were small and light, even her full-back running to length more than weight. Her quarter was a veritable midget, and if Alton had not witnessed his work for two years she might have feared for his safety amongst all those rough players! But Marsh was able to look after himself, as well as the rest of the team, and do it in a highly scientific manner. In spite of his diminutive size he was eighteen years of age and had played two seasons with Mt. Millard already. For that matter, the visitors presented a veteran team, new faces being few and far between.

Alton looked for trouble from the enemy’s passing game and didn’t look in vain. On the third play Mt. Millard worked a double pass that was good for nearly thirty yards and, less than eighty seconds after the whistle, was well into Alton territory. That fright – for it was a fright – put the home team on her mettle, and a subsequent play of a similar style was foiled with a loss of two yards. Mt. Millard was forced to punt from Alton’s thirty-seven. Cricket Menge caught and made a startling run-back over three white lines. Then Alton tried her own attack and had slight difficulty in penetrating Mt. Millard’s lighter line. Greenwood ripped his way through for three and four yards at a time and Reilly twice made it first down on plays off the tackles. It was Red’s fumble near his own forty that halted that advance. Mt. Millard got the ball and started back with it.

From tackle to tackle the Alton line was invulnerable, save for two slight gains at Smedley’s position. Mt. Millard’s only chance, it seemed, was to run the ends, and that she did in good style until the opponent solved her plays and was able to stop them twice out of three times. But the visitor had brought along a whole bagful of tricks, and as the first period – they were playing twelve-minute quarters to-day – neared its end she opened the bag. Alton had plunged her way to the enemy’s thirty-seven, and there Menge, trying to cut outside of left tackle, had become involved with his interference and been thrown for a two-yard loss. It was third down and six to go, and Joe Greenwood dropped back eight yards behind center and spread his hands invitingly. But the ball went to Reilly and Red cut the six yards down to three by a plunge straight at center. Goodwin went back once more, and this time took the pigskin. But, although he swung a long leg, the ball wasn’t kicked. Instead it went sailing through the air to the side of the field where Menge was awaiting it. Unfortunately, though, Cricket was not the only one with a desire for the ball, and a fraction of a second before it was due to fall into his hands a long-legged adversary leaped upward and captured it. Cricket tackled instantly and with all the enthusiasm of an outraged soul and the long-legged one came heavily to earth, but the ball was back in the enemy’s hands and again Alton’s triumph had been checked.

One hopeless smash at the Gray-and-Gold line that netted less than a yard, and Mt. Millard opened her bag of tricks. Speaking broadly, there aren’t any new plays in football and can’t be except when an alteration of the rules opens new possibilities. What are called new plays are usually old plays revived or familiar plays in novel disguise. Mt. Millard, then, showed nothing strictly original that afternoon, but some of the things she sprang during the remainder of that game might almost as well have been fresh from the mint so far as effectiveness was concerned. During the minute or two that remained of the first period she made her way from her own thirty-two yards to Alton’s sixteen in four plays, while the home team supporters looked on aghast. First there was a silly-looking wide-open formation with every one where he shouldn’t have been, to meet which Alton rather distractedly wandered here and there and edged so far back that when, instead of the involved double or perhaps triple-pass expected, a small half-back took the ball from center and ran straight ahead with it, he found almost no opposition until he had crossed the scrimmage line. After that, that he was able to dodge and twirl and throw off tacklers until Billy Wells brought him down from behind just over the fifty-yard line, was owing to his own speed and cunning.

When Mt. Millard again spread wide Alton thought she knew what was coming, and this time her ends dropped back only some five yards and, while displaying customary interest in the opposing ends, kept a sharp watch on the wide holes in the line. What happened was never quite clear to them, for Mt. Millard pulled things off with dazzling speed. The ball shot back from center and well to the left. Some one took it and started to run with it, while the broken line of forwards came together in a moving wall of interference. Alton was not to be held at bay so easily, and she went through. By that time the runner with the ball was well over toward the side-line on his left and when his wall of interference disintegrated he stopped suddenly in his journey, wheeled about and threw the pigskin diagonally across the field to where, lamentably ostracized by Alton, the attenuated full-back was ambling along most unostentatiously. That throw was magnificent both as to distance and accuracy, and it reached the full-back at a moment when the nearest Alton player was a good twenty feet distant. What deserved to be a touchdown, however, resulted in only a seventeen-yard gain, for the full-back, catching close to the side-line, with Slim Staples hard on his heels and Appel coming down on him in front, made the mistake of not edging out into the field while there was still time. The result of this error in tactics was one false step that put a flying foot barely outside the whitewashed streak at the thirty-two yards. I think the referee hated to see that misstep, for if ever a team deserved a touchdown that team was Mt. Millard. Even the Alton stands had to applaud that play.

Mt. Millard went back to regular formation when the ball had been stepped in, and I think Alton breathed easier. The diminutive quarterback used a delayed pass and himself attempted Slim’s end and managed to squirm around for three yards. That took the pigskin to Alton’s twenty-nine, and with three more downs to draw on there seemed no reason why the visitors shouldn’t score a field-goal at least. The Alton stands chanted the “Hold, Alton!” slogan and the visiting contingent shouted loudly and appealingly for a touchdown. The Mt. Millard left half moved back to kicking position and the ball was passed. But, instead of a drop-kick, there was a puzzling double-pass behind the enemy’s line and an end, running behind, shot out at the right with the ball snuggled against his stomach and ran wide behind a clever interference to the sixteen yards. Again it was first down, and the enemy had reeled off just fifty-four yards in four plays! It was one of those things that simply couldn’t be done – and had been done!

Before Marsh could call his signals again the quarter ended.

CHAPTER XII

VICTORY HARD WON

The long-suffering reader mustn’t think that I have any intention of inflicting on him a detailed account of the remaining three periods of that game. I have offended sufficiently already. Besides, it was that first period, with a few moments of the second, and the last quarter only that held the high lights. The in-between was interesting to watch, but it would be dull reading.

Mt. Millard started the second period on Alton’s sixteen and, perhaps just to show that she could perform the feat against a still bewildered opponent, slashed a back through between Newton and Renneker for three yards on a fake run around end. Of course had she tried such a thing a second time it wouldn’t have come off, but Marsh had no intention of trying it. He deployed his ends, sent his goal-kicker back and then heaved across the center of the line. Fortunately for the defenders of the south goal, Reilly knocked down the ball. After that there wasn’t much left for Mt. Millard but a try-at-goal, and after a conference between captain and quarter the try was made. The kicker retreated a good twelve yards from his center, which took him close to the twenty-five line, a retreat that in view of subsequent happenings was well advised. For Alton, stung by recent reverses, piled through the Mt. Millard forwards and hurled aside the guardian backs. It was just those added yards that defeated her. The ball, hurtling away from the kicker’s toe, passed safely above upstretched hands and sailed over the cross-bar.

Mt. Millard did a few hand-springs while a 3 was placed to her credit on the score-board, and her delighted supporters yelled themselves hoarse. There was noticeable lack of enthusiasm on the other side of the field, although by the time the opponents again faced each other for the kick-off the Alton cheerers had found their voices again. The balance of the second period held its moments of excitement, but on the whole it was tame and colorless after that first quarter. Alton, regaining the ball after she had kicked it off, started another pilgrimage to the distant goal, smearing the enemy with hard, old-style football and eating up ground steadily if slowly. Once Menge got safely away around the Mt. Millard left end and shot over sixteen yards of trampled turf before an enemy stood him on his head, but for the rest it was gruelling work, the more gruelling as the attack drew near the edge of scoring territory. If Mt. Millard was light of weight she was nevertheless game, and seldom indeed did the Alton attack get started before the enemy was half-way to meet it. Reilly gave place to Kendall in the middle of the journey, and Smedley to Stimson. Mt. Millard likewise called on two fresh recruits to strengthen her line. Alton hammered her way to the Mt. Millard twenty-eight yards and there struck a snag. Greenwood failed to gain at the center, Kendall was repulsed for a slight loss, Greenwood made four on a wide run from kicking position, and then, with seven to gain on fourth down, it was put up to Captain Emerson, and that youth tried hard to tie the score with a placement-kick from just back of the thirty yards. The aim was true enough, but Rus hadn’t put quite enough into the swing of his leg and the ball passed just under the bar, so close to it, indeed, that deceived Alton supporters cheered loudly and long before they discovered their error. Mt. Millard kicked on second down and the few plays that brought the half to an end were all in Alton territory.

The visitor presented the same line-up when the third quarter began. For Alton, Red Reilly was back at right half and Garrick was at center in place of Newton. Alton was expected to return refreshed and determined and wreak swift vengeance on the foe, and the anxious cheerers gave the players a fine welcome when they trotted back to the gridiron. But although the Gray-and-Gold seemed to have profited by the interim and played with more skill than before, Mt. Millard was still clever enough to hold her off during the succeeding twelve minutes. Alton tried three forward-passes and made one of them good. This brought a reward of fourteen yards. Another pass grounded and a third went to Mt. Millard. To offset that fourteen yards, the Gray-and-Gold was twice penalized for off-side. Twice Alton reached the enemy’s thirty-yard line only to be turned back. The first time Greenwood missed the pass for a six-yard loss and was forced to punt and the other time Mt. Millard intercepted Appel’s toss across the left wing. When, at last, the whistle once more sounded, the ball was in Alton’s hands close to Mt. Millard’s forty-yard line. The teams changed goals and the final period started.

Greenwood got seven yards outside right tackle and put the ball on Mt. Millard’s thirty-four. Menge made one through left guard. With two to go, Greenwood smashed through the left of center for six, but the horn sounded and the ball was put back fifteen yards for holding. Greenwood ran from kicking position, but a ubiquitous Mt. Millard end dumped him well back of the line. Greenwood punted to the corner of the field and the ball rolled across the goal-line. Mt. Millard got four yards in two plunges at Stimson and then made the rest of her distance by sending a half around Slim’s end. Another attempt at Stimson was good for three yards, but when the full-back tried Renneker he was stopped short. On third down Marsh threw across the field to a waiting half, but Slim knocked the ball aside just short of the receiver’s hands. Mt. Millard punted to Alton’s twenty-eight and Appel caught and by clever dodging raced back to the forty-one.

Then Alton’s big drive began. Using a tackles-back shift, Appel sent Greenwood and Reilly and again Greenwood at the Mt. Millard line, first on one side of center and then on the other, and took the pigskin into the enemy’s country. Then Menge got three around left and Slim, running behind, added three more on a wide expedition in the same direction. Greenwood threw short across the center to Captain Emerson, and Rus made five before he was thrown. From the thirty-seven the ball went more slowly, but no less certainly to the twenty-five. There a skin tackle play at the right gained but a yard, and Greenwood again threw forward, the ball grounding. From kick formation Greenwood raced around left for five. With six to go he stood back as if to try a goal, but the ball went to Reilly who, with the right tackle ahead of him, dug a passage through center and made the necessary four yards. After that there was no stopping the invasion. From the fifteen to the four Reilly and Greenwood, alternating, went in four tries. With the Alton stand cheering madly, imploringly, little Menge slid around left end while the attack was faked at the center and made the one-yard. From there Greenwood was pushed over on the second attempt.

When the teams lined up on the five-yard line it was Captain Emerson who went back for the try-at-goal. This time, the line holding stoutly, he had no difficulty in placing the ball over the bar, and it was Alton’s turn to celebrate. At last, it seemed, the hoodoo had been broken and Mt. Millard defeated.

There remained, however, more than six minutes of playing time, and much might happen in six minutes. Much did happen, for when, having kicked off to Alton and forced the latter to punt after once gaining her distance, Mt. Millard went back to her bag of tricks. Some of the things she tried were weird and some risky, so risky that only desperation could have counseled them. But too frequently they were successful. A wide formation with both ends on one side of the line and the tackles on the other was good for a twelve-yard gain when the ball was shot obliquely across the field. The runner was spilled before he could get started by Rus Emerson, but twelve yards was enough to move the stakes to a new location. After a plunge at the line, good for two yards, the enemy used the same formation again. But this time a quartering run by a half-back eventuated and was stopped almost at the line. Again Mt. Millard tried a long forward-pass. The receiver was out of position and the ball came back. Faking a punt, the full-back hit the Alton line and went through for eight yards, placing the ball on Alton’s forty-six.

Desperately indeed the visitor waged the attack. Mr. Cade sent in three fresh players; Wilde for Stimson, Kerrison for Emerson and Dakin for Reilly. Mt. Millard had already made several substitutions, one a guard who gave Gordon Renneker a hard battle. Forced to punt at last, Mt. Millard sent the ball over the goal-line, and Alton lined up on the twenty. Here it was that Dakin nearly upset the apple-cart. Plunging at tackle on his own side, he let go of the ball, and it trickled across the field with about every warrior after it. It was Slim who finally fell on it on his own eight yards.

Goodwin, standing astride the goal-line, punted on first down, but the ball went high and short, passing out of bounds at the twenty-six, and from there Mt. Millard started again with unabated determination. Greenwood was replaced by Goodwin. A forward-pass made a scant seven yards for the besiegers. Then, from wide-open formation, came another. This time three backs handled the pigskin before it was finally thrown. It would have scored a touchdown had it been caught, but there were two Alton men on the spot, and the Mt. Millard end had no chance. Then the enemy hustled into kick-formation and Alton breathed a sigh of relief. Even if the enemy secured another field-goal the game would still be Alton’s. Perhaps Mt. Millard had that knowledge in mind, for she didn’t kick, after all. Standing back near the twenty-five-yard streak, Quarterback Marsh poised the ball in the palm of his hand, a tiny motionless figure amidst a maelstrom of rushing forms. Cries of warning filled the air. Marsh, as if unaware of the enemy plunging down on him, surveyed the field. Then, just as Billy Wells bore down with arms upstretched, Marsh side-stepped easily and threw to where, beyond the goal-line, a Mt. Millard end was wheeling into position. Scarcely above the finger-tips of the leaping Alton players sped the oval, fast and straight. The Mt. Millard end ran forward a step, poised for the catch. And then Nemesis in the shape of Slim Staples took a hand. Slim, crashing off a goal-post, staggered into the path of the ball, leaped upward and closed his hands about it. Then he went down into a sea of massing players and a whistle blew shrilly.