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
Beside Bowles, his neighbor sat on the edge of the seat and squirmed
and yelped and shouted: “Get him, Ted! Get him, you chump!... Here
we go, fellows! Oh, look at that! Forty-five yards if an inch! Keyes
can’t punt a bit, can he? He’s no good at all, is he? Forty-five yards!
That’s all! Just forty―――― ... Oh, bully, Winslow! Oh, great stuff!
Right through! Three yards easy! How many downs is that? What? It can’t
be! Oh, all right. We’ll do it, just the same! They can’t stop us now!
We’re on our way to a touchdown! Get into ’em, Keyes! That’s the stuff!
Rip ’em up! What’d I tell you? Four more! Oh, there’s nothing to it, I
tell you, nothing to it at all!”
Down on the Green-and-White’s twenty-yard line now. Mount Morris
weakening a little. Two subs going into her line. Grafton as fresh as
ever, barring Trafford, perhaps. Trafford had a fierce jolt that time
in the third quarter. Enough to put most fellows out of the game. All
right now! Second down and eight to go! No gain? Well, Vail can’t do it
every time. Besides, they were looking for him. Two downs left. Seven
to go? Then he did gain a little. Here we go! Right through―――― Nothing
doing! Who had the ball? Keyes? Too bad! Bully chance to score! Have to
kick now. Well, three points is better than nothing, let me tell you!
Who’s going to―――― What’s the matter? Oh, quarter over? Gee, but that
was short! All right, everyone up now! Let ’em have it! “Rah, rah, rah,
Grafton! Rah, rah, rah, Grafton! Grafton! Grafton! _Grafton!_”
Bowles found he was clutching his knees tightly, doing no possible
good to his respectable trousers, and straining his respectable
gloves. Odd how excited one got about football! Extremely rough,
football, but――er――most interesting and――er――manly, of course. Oh,
rather! Ah, they were starting again at the other end of the field!
A scarlet-legged youth was standing well behind his fellows with
outstretched arms. Hello, he’d kicked it! Why didn’t the people
applaud? What was wrong? Oh, it had to go over that stick, eh, and it
hadn’t gone over? Oh, yes, of course. Most regrettable!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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