A NARROW MARGIN

At half-past five that Friday afternoon the North Bank first and second teams drew apart from each other, weary and breathless, and heard gratefully the voice of the trainer: “Get your blankets on, every one of you, and beat it in! All through, ain’t you, Coach?”

“All through! Every one in on the run!”

On the run, indeed! Jerry, who had played but fifteen minutes of the long scrimmage, had all he could do to jog, and there were many who disdained to make the least pretense of obedience. That had been the hardest day’s work of the season. Usually on the eve of a contest as important as the Brackett’s game the first-choice fellows were handled, if not with gloves, at least with consideration. But this afternoon regulars and substitutes had toiled equally hard, and there were many murmurs of protest and disgust in the locker room afterwards. Jerry, tiredly struggling with his shoe laces, overheard a conversation beside him. It was Furchgott who began it.

“That guy’s crazy,” he confided to Gus Ashley. “How’s he think a fellow’s going to get through to-morrow’s game if he kills him to-day?”

“You didn’t work much,” answered Ashley. “What’s your kick?”

“I worked a-plenty,” growled the substitute guard. “Anyway, some of you fellows will be N. G. to-morrow, and it won’t be any one’s fault but Thorne’s.”

“Reckon we can stand it,” said Ashley cheerfully. “Reckon we’re all pretty fit, Furchy. After all, the worst’s over. Next week’s just easy stuff. What did you think of the new play?”

“Oh, all right, I suppose. Funny time to spring new stuff, though. There’s only four work days left.”

“And about seven work nights,” chuckled the other. “Don’t forget our jolly little blackboard parties, old son!”

“I know, but just the same you can’t learn four or five new plays and a new set of signals in a week! He’s crazy, Thorne is.”

“We’ll see a week from to-morrow. Let’s hope for the best, you blamed croaker. Get up off that towel!”

Jerry watched the two push their way through the throng to the showers. He wondered if Furchgott was right, if the new play that had been introduced with what seemed excellent success had been found too late. Mr. Thorne had worked hard with it and the first team had taken to it eagerly, and when it had been thrice tried on the second it had worked well each time. Once Jerry himself had made the pass, and he had shot the ball over to Ashley for a fine gain of nearly fifteen yards and had glowed with exultation. Then, two plays later, faking another forward first, he had dropped the pigskin and punted it high and far to the confusion of the second team quarter, who, anticipating another forward pass, had edged down toward the line. Later, Omstead and Gray had participated in the play, and each time it had caught the opponent napping and gained territory. It would, reflected Jerry, be too bad if the play must be discarded for want of time to teach it.

But that fear was laid that evening when the players gathered in the rowing room in the gymnasium for what Gus Ashley had called a blackboard party. For Play Number 23 was amongst those that Coach Thorne gave much attention to and it wasn’t abandoned until every fellow there understood it thoroughly. “I consider this the best of the forward-pass plays,” said Mr. Thorne, “and I’ve decided to use it instead of Number 19. So we have four plays of this kind left: the ordinary short pass across the center of the line, the forward pass from end to end, the forward pass from quarter to end, and this forward pass by half back from ordinary formation. Of the three the last offers the best protection for the thrower and is consequently to my mind the more promising. I may tell you, as a matter of interest, that it was brought to me by one of the players and that I claim no credit for it. Now does every one understand it? Are there any questions?”

Accusing glances were exchanged by the players, but none acknowledged the authorship of Play Number 23. Jerry was relieved to find that Captain Mansfield had not told. It seemed to him that the invention of a play by one who knew as little football as he did savored of impertinence! But, of course, the secret didn’t remain a secret long, and when Jerry reached the gymnasium the next afternoon much good-natured joshing awaited him. Purves Jordan, however, was not included among the good-natured ones. Jordan had just about abandoned hope of getting placed in the Cumbridge game and held Jerry to blame, and he had nothing flattering to say of the new play. Changing into his football togs, Jerry could not help overhearing a conversation between Jordan, Furchgott and Summerfield, although the three were in the next alcove and a double tier of lockers intervened.

“Who says it’s Benson’s play?” demanded Jordan. “It’s as old as the hills! All he did was swipe it from somewhere.”

“Well, there aren’t any new plays, for that matter,” said Summerfield. “But I reckon Benson thinks it’s new. I don’t believe he stole it. We’ve never used it before, anyway.”

“Well, others have,” said Jordan, and Furchgott threw in a corroborative “Sure!”

“Where’d you ever see it?” asked Summerfield suspiciously.

“I didn’t say I’d seen it; not played, I mean. But it’s been used lots of times. Why, it stands to reason that there’s nothing new in having the half back make a forward pass!”

“No, but there’s something new, maybe, in having him make it in the way he does in this play. The beauty of it is that Cumbridge won’t know it is a forward. It looks like a split play with full back taking the ball around left end.”

“If it fools Cumbridge I’ll eat my hat,” declared Jordan.

“Oh, you’re sore because you didn’t think of it yourself,” laughed the substitute right half. “Stop knocking, Jordan.”

There was more, perhaps, but Jerry didn’t hear it, for Billy Conger playfully smote him on the back with his head guard just then and addressed him as “the Board of Strategy.” “That’s a nice little play of yours, Jerry,” said Conger. “Didn’t know you were a football general. I tried that sort of thing last year, but every play I made up had been discovered by Walter Camp the last year of the Civil War!”

“I reckon maybe this play ain’t new,” said Jerry apologetically. “I heard a fellow say it ain’t, anyway.”

“It’s new around here, though, so you should worry. If we can get a few first downs with it, it’s new enough for us.”

Much to his surprise, Jerry started the game that afternoon at left half. There was a fairly stiff breeze blowing down the field, and North Bank, winning the toss, yielded the ball and chose the east goal and what benefit might accrue from the wind. Brackett’s kick-off was short and the teams lined up for the first scrimmage on the Light Blue’s twenty-eight. One attempt at the left of center yielded three yards and then Tub Keller called for a punt. Jerry’s toe sent the pigskin down to Brackett’s twenty and Mansfield stopped the opposing quarter before he had dug his cleats twice. Brackett’s made eight yards on three tries and again punted short. Near her forty-yard line North Bank gave the ball to Duveen for two tries at the center that yielded but three yards. Keller circled right end for three more and again Jerry punted. This time Brackett’s broke through and hurried the kick and the ball went slicing off to the right and rolled out at the enemy’s thirty-two. Brackett’s worked back to midfield on three plunges and a forward pass that caught the Light Blue napping and then punted to the opponent’s eighteen. Although the kick had distance, it was too fast for the Brackett’s ends and Butterfield brought it back to the twenty-seven before he was stopped. Ashley made six around left and Duveen hammered the line for two more. Jerry found a hole between left guard and tackle and barely got the distance. Ashley secured four on a crisscross that sent him close off left tackle, Jerry failed to gain on a straight buck at the same place and Keller tried a heave to Mansfield over the center. Mansfield touched the ball but failed to catch it and Jerry punted on fourth down.

This time the ball sailed nobly to the enemy’s goal line, aided by the wind, and the enemy back was downed on his thirteen. That was too close for Brackett’s comfort, and she opened her line and tried two forwards, the first a double pass that sent the ball well down the field to a waiting end. Mansfield spoiled that, however, and the ball grounded. The second attempt went to the other side of the gridiron and over the head of the catcher. Forced to punt, Brackett’s toed the ball from just inside her goal line and, by keeping it low, managed to send it to her forty, where Keller caught and ran back twelve before he was thrown. Two tries at the line found the enemy invulnerable and Jerry once more went back to kicking position. This time a short punt was necessary, for he was standing close to the enemy’s forty-yard line. The result was all that could have been wished, for the ball came down in the right-hand corner of the field and Brackett’s half fumbled it near the five yards, recovered it and was dropped in his tracks by Butterfield. North Bank was howling for a score, but Brackett’s, although at bay on her threshold, had possession of the ball. She made two through Norris and added two more past Hickson and again punted, this time from behind her goal line. The kicker was anxious, and anxiety defeated him, for the ball went almost straight in the air and when it landed it was North Bank’s on the nineteen yards. Ashley again profited by a crisscross, plunging past left tackle to the enemy’s fifteen, and Duveen got two more at the right of center. Then Tub Keller signaled for “21.” Jerry followed Ashley and Duveen around right end, Keller ran back with the ball, side-stepped a tackle who had leaked through, and threw across the line to Mansfield. The captain, although threatened by a frantic quarter back, made the catch and circled around to the goal, placing the ball squarely between the posts. And North Bank cheered delightedly. Omstead came in for the try-at-goal and Jerry yielded his head guard sorrowfully. As he accepted a blanket from Riordan, Coach Thorne nodded to him from the end of the bench.

“Good work, Benson,” he called.

Jerry watched Omstead convert the 6 into a 7 and added his cheer to the others, but he did wish he might have stayed in! The quarter ended a moment later and the teams changed fields.

There was no more scoring in that half, although, aided by the wind, Brackett’s twice threatened the Light Blue’s goal. That quarter proved that the enemy’s line was too strong for North Bank and that on the other hand, North Bank, from tackle to tackle, was too much for Brackett’s. Neither team was able to make much headway on straight line bucking, and plays off tackle, wide runs around the end and forward passes could alone be relied on to advance either eleven. The half ended with the ball on North Bank’s seventeen yards in her possession.

Coach Thorne was dissatisfied with the team’s showing and said so frankly between the halves, and in the third quarter the Light Blue displayed rather more punch. Yet it was in that quarter that Brackett’s obtained her only score. For five minutes the ball hovered around midfield, and then Duveen punted to the enemy’s thirty-two and the Brackett’s quarter caught and, eluding Mansfield and Hickson very neatly, scampered along the side line until Keller threw him at North Bank’s thirty-six. Two attempts at the left of the Light Blue’s line gained four yards and then Brackett’s pulled off her only really worth-while forward pass of the day. It was a throw following a double pass and went more than twenty yards across the field to a waiting half back. Omstead had put the end out, but the half had eluded him, and, although Keller, speeding to the scene, nearly spoiled the catch, the Brackett’s man pulled the ball down and scampered unchallenged to a touchdown!

As afterwards proved, the wind alone saved the day for North Bank. The Brackett’s full back kicked from almost in front of the goal, but lifted the ball too high and an obliging breeze caught it and deposited it gently inside the crossbar!

Although both teams struggled hard during the rest of that period and all through the last, no more scoring resulted. Substitutes were thrown in regardless toward the end on both sides, and every player on the North Bank bench was used. Jerry started the fourth period, but gave way to Gray before the last. While he was in he had a taste of the difficulties of punting into a strong wind, and on one occasion watched horrifiedly while the pigskin encountered a sudden harder gust and came to earth less than twenty yards from where it had started. Twice, though, he managed long kicks by keeping the ball low. Number 21 was the only one of the new plays tried that afternoon, and if the Cumbridge scouts, of whom three were unconcealedly present, had expected to profit by the journey they must have felt disappointed.

The final score of 7 to 6 indicated very fairly the comparative merits of the two teams that day, but brought no particular encouragement to North Bank. For several days the school was inclined to be pessimistic regarding the Cumbridge contest, since, two weeks before, the Dark Blue had beaten Brackett’s by the one-sided score of 19 to 6. Yet by Wednesday, which day witnessed the final hard practice session of the year, hope had returned and dismal forebodings were no more in favor. After all, Cumbridge looked no better on paper than her rival. Although she had won five games and lost two, while North Bank had won four and lost three, she had scored fewer points. The Light Blue had run up a total of 76 against her opponents’ 54, while the Dark Blue had scored 65 to her opponents’ 58. This, and the fact that on Saturday Cumbridge had made rather a poor showing against a confessedly weak adversary, were made the most of by North Bank. Cheer meetings were held almost every night and as the great day approached enthusiasm waxed higher and higher.

Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday were devoted to perfecting the Light Blue’s offense and learning the new signals. The four new plays, 21, 22, 23 and 24, were practiced over and over. The title Number 24 had been given to the variation of 23 that changed that forward-pass play into an unexpected punt by the left half back. Every night there was a blackboard drill in the rowing room and by the middle of the week the eighteen plays that had finally been selected for use against Cumbridge were well learned. These plays included six straight bucks, two splits, a crisscross, a delayed pass, three end runs, four forward passes and one concealed kick. As all but one of these, the latter, could be used on each side of center, North Bank was to enter the big game with thirty-five plays.

There was no morning punting work for Jerry that week, for Mr. Thorne prohibited it tersely. As it was, Jerry went to bed at night with his head so filled with football that another speck would have cracked it open. His conversation those days included no subject not intimately connected with the gridiron and Tom disgustedly told him that he was no longer a fit associate for sane persons. His studies suffered, you may be sure, but so did those of some twenty-six other youths, and the instructors treated him with sorrowful patience and postponed the day of reckoning. Somewhat to his surprise, Jerry had managed to add twelve pounds to his weight between the middle of October and the twentieth of November, and, although the last few days of the season threatened to take toll of this gain, he promised to emerge from his football experience many pounds to the good. Sometimes he wondered if his brain would hold out, but it did, in spite of Tom’s assertions to the contrary. Tom was outwardly a very unsympathetic companion during that final week of stress and excitement, but at heart he was rooting hard for his chum.

The second disbanded on Thursday, after some twenty minutes of kid-glove opposition to the first, cheered themselves most enthusiastically while they paraded around the campus and then assembled at the jumping pit to make a bonfire of all the worn-out football paraphernalia they could lay their hands on, and, joining hands, circled the pyre madly, to the delight of the onlookers.

There was no practice on Friday save a short signal drill and an enlightening talk by Mr. Tibbs on the Cumbridge attack and defense. Mr. Tibbs had watched the enemy play the preceding Saturday and seemed to have returned with a very healthy regard for her prowess. Friday, on the whole, was a hard day to live through. In the evening a brief blackboard drill was held a half hour earlier that the players might attend the final cheer meeting. Jerry found this a disconcerting experience, especially as Fate denied him a seat in the back row on the platform and he was forced to sit for quite fifteen minutes with a frozen grin on his face in full view of some one hundred and seventy shouting maniacs. He was very glad when, to a final thunderous cheer, he was allowed to escape with his companions and crawl into a bed that never felt more grateful. At midnight, however, long after Tom had gone to sleep, he was still staring into the darkness.