The second half began with an exchange of punts. Playing behind the
cyclopean Mike, Neale hadn't much work to do on the defensive, but once
Mike was boxed out on a straight buck, Neale shot his body in to plug
the hole and turning, caught a bony knee in the back, right over the
kidneys. As he lay on the ground gasping for breath, he could see that
he hadn't even stopped the play. It had gone over him for two yards. Oh,
Hell! What was the use? How his back ached! The Penn. quarter seemed to
know he was feeling wobbly. All the plays were coming at him and Mike,
and most of them got by. Where _was_ the ball? Sometimes it came
straight through and the next minute on the same formation swung
outside--and Neale uselessly buried under the interference. He'd have to
stop it somehow--soon. He glanced back out of the corner of his eye, and
saw the goal posts less than five yards behind. The Penn. formation was
on his side again. Mike charged like a buffalo. Neale rushed in behind
him, but blindly. Then all at once he picked out the man with the
ball--too late. His sideways drive for a tackle missed and as he fell,
his arms empty, he saw the red-and-blue jersey go over the line.
He got up shaken, feeling very sick of himself, not meeting anybody's
eye. While Penn. was kicking the goal, Neale saw Biffy come bounding out
from the side-lines, "I'm to take Crittenden's place," he reported.
It was like a blow in the face. And he had earned it. Neale walked to
the bench, took a blanket, looking carefully away from the sub who held
it out to him, wrapped himself up, forced his face into its usual
expression of impassivity and watched the game. It was not much to
watch: Columbia badly up in the air, Pennsy getting stronger every
minute.
He dreaded the post-mortem at the football house, and took as deserved
Andrews' verdict. "Crittenden, you were a total loss. I knew you weren't
much of a defensive back, but I didn't suppose a whale like you would
let a skinny little runt of a Penn. sub ride you back five yards and
dump you on your tail."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account