Rivals for the Team: A Story of School Life and FootballBarbour, Ralph Henry
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Rivals for the Team: A Story of School Life and Football
Barbour, Ralph Henry
Adventure stories; Boarding schools -- Juvenile fiction; Football stories
“Tell you what, Dan, you take Hanser and let me have Ordway. Look here.
Mount Morris has a heavy, slow line and her ends aren’t remarkable when
you come right down to brass tacks. They haven’t shown anything against
any team they’ve met yet. Did you read the Mount Morris――St. James
game? Well, Mount Morris’ ends were never under the punts. St. James
ran the ball back five to fifteen yards every time. With ends like
those, why couldn’t this Ordway fellow get away? Wait a bit. Suppose
we worked up a shift formation that brought their tackle over to the
long side of their line. Then suppose we send a fake attack on that
side, pull Trafford out and send him and Ordway around the short end?
Why wouldn’t that make a good get-away play around the twenty-five-yard
line? I believe we could work up a play that could score for us. That
rascal is a marvel at squeezing through the tight places. All he needs
is a lot of work to give him experience.”
“Too light in weight,” growled Mr. Crowley. “They’d stop him quick.”
“Sure, they would if they caught him. But he’s something like an eel,
as I figure it. No, you take Hanser and give me Ordway, Dan, and I’ll
make a regular back of that kid. Or I will if he doesn’t get hurt.
That’s one trouble; he’s likely to bust something, I guess.”
“Not him, Coach,” said Davy. “He’s the supple kind.” (Davy pronounced
it “soople,” though.) “There ain’t a stiff bone in his body, sir.”
“Well, you can have him, of course,” said Mr. Crowley. “Maybe you’re
right, too. He is clever, and he――he’s neat; handles the ball nice,
travels nice; sort of clean-cut in his style.”
“Good! Send him to me tomorrow, Dan.”
And that is why Hugh, or, as he was popularly known now, Hobo Ordway,
again transferred his ketchup bottle and marmalade jar, this time back
to Lothrop and the first-team training table, and also why he came to
find himself at four-fifteen on Wednesday afternoon sitting beside
Bert on the first-team bench, very much surprised and a little bit
frightened at what was before him!
CHAPTER XXII
POP ELUCIDATES
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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