Boarding schools -- Juvenile fiction; Football stories; School sports -- Juvenile fiction; Teenage boys -- Juvenile fiction
“I’ve handled this team for four years, fellows, and I’ve always
enjoyed it, always taken pride in it, always felt a mighty lot of
satisfaction, when the season was done, over my part in the victory or
the defeat that came to us. Because you mustn’t think, any of you, that
there isn’t honor in defeat. The team that plays cleanly, gallantly,
fights its hardest when Luck turns its back, is downed and won’t stay
downed, wins honor indeed. Well, now, here we are. Twenty of us. ‘Mr.
Babcock’s Team,’ the ‘Second’ or the ‘Scrub.’ Call yourself what you
like. It doesn’t make much difference what we’re called or what we
call ourselves, so long as we do what’s expected of us with all our
might. So let’s get together, fellows, and show Wyndham the finest,
fightingest Second Team it has ever seen! Remember this, too. You’re
not only helping to win the Wolcott game this year, you’re training
yourself for next year. You Second Team fellows will be First Team
fellows next fall. Most of you, anyhow. It isn’t unlikely that one or
two of you will get to the big team this season. Just show Mr. Otis
that you’ve got something the First Team needs, and you won’t stay here
long!
“Just so that it won’t be all work and no play, I’ve arranged three
outside games for you. We’ll play Freeburg High School a week from
next Saturday, Minster High School on November third, and the Wolcott
Second Team on November tenth. We could have more games if we were
permitted to play away from home. But we aren’t, and I think three will
be enough, anyhow. So now you know what’s ahead of you, Scrub. A lot of
steady, grinding work, a little play, and virtue more or less its own
reward. Who’s for it?”
It was evident that all were. A shout went up from twenty throats that
carried as far as the diamond and aroused interest and conjecture
there. Having joined his voice with the others, Clif turned and looked
rather pityingly toward the First Team field. Those poor chaps over
there didn’t realize what they were missing! Mr. Babcock was speaking
again. He was on his feet now, and in response to the suggestion of his
movement the fellows were leaving the seats.
“We’ll have the first scrimmage with the other gang about Friday. That
gives us four days to get ready. I’d suggest that before the Freeburg
game you elect a captain. But don’t do it just yet. Wait until you’ve
played together awhile. Until you choose a leader for yourself you’ll
need some one in authority, though, and so I’ll appoint Henning
temporary captain.”
“Cheer for Captain Clem!” laughed some one.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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