

## Win, or Else

Published by Jim Andersen at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 Jim Andersen

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends.

This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form.

## WIN, OR ELSE

### A Season of High School Football

### ORIGINAL STORY BY

## William H. Andersen

### Updated by

### James W. Andersen
PREFACE

William (Bill) Andersen was born in 1920 in Racine, Wisconsin. After high school he went into the Army and spent time during World War II in Guam. After the service he married his wife, Vena, and enrolled at the University of Wisconsin La Crosse. He earned his degrees in history and secondary education. He was on the football team while he was in college.

After college, in 1950, Bill moved to Kankakee, Illinois and taught high school social studies there for five years. In 1955 he moved to Burlington, Wisconsin where he taught history, speech, journalism and a few other subjects. He also coached the sophomore football and basketball teams.

In 1963 he moved to Racine, Wisconsin and taught at Racine Park High School until he retired in 1985. While at Park he did not coach any sports but he was the PA announcer for most of the high school's sports teams.

Bill passed away in 2011 at the age of 90.

This book was originally written about 1963. He tried unsuccessfully to get it published back then. Since his passing the original manuscript has been digitized and made available for all to read online. I hope you enjoy it. It is too good a story to let die so as a memorial to him I am trying to keep it alive for others to enjoy.

Dad included himself in the book as Mr. Williams, the "B" team coach, and me as Jimmy Andersen, the manager. I actually was an assistant manager for the "B" team when I was in sixth and seventh grade.

Special thanks go to mom for typing the original manuscript on her Royal manual typewriter in the days before correction fluid.

Comments are welcome. E-mail them to: jwmmandersen@gmail.com

I miss you dad.

Your son,

Jim
INTRODUCTION

This story begins in August of 1959 in the small rural town of Foxville located somewhere in the Midwest. Football practice was about to begin for Foxville High School. Back then Friday night high school football games were the biggest events in town during the fall of the year. There were no state championships or playoffs so winning the conference championship was the highest prize possible.

The high school consisted of only three grades, grades ten through twelve. They had three football teams: the varsity, the junior varsity and the sophomore ("B" team). If you played a lot on the varsity you were awarded a "letter" which was a big "F" emblem in Foxville's case that the letter winners wore proudly on their letter jacket. The jacket was in the school colors and had leather sleeves.

In those days the quarterbacks called their own plays. Most of the starters played on both offense and defense. Smoking and drinking was not allowed for high school athletes and they were expected to follow the curfew times if they wanted to be out for sports.

This book was originally written by my dad, William (Bill) Andersen, about 1964. It is based on his experience playing college football at the University of Wisconsin La Crosse and coaching the "B" team at Burlington, Wisconsin high school from 1955 to 1962. I remember some of the incidences in this book but I can't vouch for all of them actually happening.

As you read the book you will probably experience a range of emotions. You will feel like laughing, crying, being sad, mad, happy, glad and surprised. While you are reading make note of the many life lessons that can be seen in this story.

If you are not that into football you can skip some of the football details and still enjoy a great story.

Win, or Else

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 High Hopes

Chapter 2 "I'll Tell 'em, Coach"

Chapter 3 A Late Addition

Chapter 4 Half A Win

Chapter 5 Rebuilding

Chapter 6 Surprises In Store

Chapter 7 Another Surprise

Chapter 8 Put Out The Fire

Chapter 9 Homecoming

Chapter 10 A Difficult Lesson

Chapter 11 "Win, or Else"

Chapter 12 "Most Valuable"
CHAPTER 1

HIGH HOPES

Foxville was anxiously looking forward to football time. Of course, this feeling was an annual occurrence in the small industrial town in the Fox River Valley. This year, however, was going to be different from past years. This was to be their year.

The "Foxes" had not won the conference championship for fourteen seasons. Some of these had been long years for the football team and their fans. The loyal followers of the team were anxious to tell anyone that this year the team had a good chance to win the Southern Valley – Little Eight Conference Championship.

There were many reasons for their confidence. Last year the team won five and lost only two league games. This record had been achieved with eight juniors playing regularly on the team. All eight were returning to play again this year and were naturally expected to do even better than they had done before.

The center of attention was bound to be on the Brown twins, Tim and Tom. They had been outstanding the previous year.

Tom played quarterback, a position he had filled well for the past two years. He broke into the lineup two years ago and played it all of last season. For a sophomore, he did well, but the season had been a dismal failure. Not only had the team lost every game, but they had been unable to score even one touchdown the whole season. The experience gained by the young quarterback was about the only good part of that season.

Tom's experience last year helped him improve a lot. As a signal caller he demonstrated a fine ability to know what plays would work, and when to call them. He passed well, ran the ball when needed, was a better than average punter, and operated the team well. Some fans felt that Tom was one of the best high school quarterbacks in the state.

Tim Brown was Tom's identical twin, which meant double trouble for opposing teams. They each carried about 185 pounds on well built bodies six feet two inches tall. They had short light hair. The girls of the school thought they were very handsome. Most of the boys envied their strong bodies which were kept in top form by participating in baseball, basketball and football.

From his position at left-halfback, Tim had become the top scorer on the team with seven touchdowns in his junior year. He was the best running back in the memory of many of the fans. When he went around end on a running play, it was almost certain that he would gain some yardage. Tom liked passing to Tim, and the brother combination connected often in games for long gains.

Although Tim was the better punter of the two, Tom kicked more often than Tim. He had learned to kick on the run. He started toward the sideline and booted the ball for a very effective "quick-kick". In addition, Tom was a good field-goal kicker. With Tim holding the ball, he had successfully kicked ten of fourteen attempts last year.

The Brown twins were a good reason for the Foxville fans to view the approaching season with eager anticipation. They had both been selected on the league coaches' all-conference team last year. The loyal boosters could see no reason why they should not be even better this year.

Most of the attention was centered on the twins, but no one forgot that six other regulars from last year's team were returning too.

Bob Smith, called "Smitty" by his teammates, was returning to his position at right halfback. The coach never felt that he had reached his potential even though he had been a good back. In practice drills he was very good. He ran faster than anyone else on the team, and those who watched him were certain that he could be a great football player.

Teachers may not know much about football, but in Smitty's case they were convinced that the boy would never become great. His mental ability was short of what it takes to become a great star.

"He is a nice kid," one of them explained to the coach, "but he just doesn't think well."

The line had promise of being a strong asset for the team. Counted among the regulars on the team last year and returning for another year of competition were a guard, two tackles, and two ends.

Wayne Cain was the guard counted on to do a lot of the blocking. His specialty was pulling out of the line and leading the blocks for Tom Brown on his right end runs. He was only five feet, nine inches tall and probably weighed no more than 150 pounds in his football equipment. His speed and blocking ability were second only to his knack for tackling hard and low.

Wayne came from a farm east of town and from a large, poor family. None of the players lived near him nor were they very friendly to him. After practice he usually walked the three miles to his home alone carrying his schoolbooks, which kept him plenty busy after chores were done.

Football was high on the list of important things in the life of the little guard. While he loved to play the game, he thought of it mainly as a means to an end. Through the game he could build himself up physically, and prove that though small in size – he could still play the big boy's game on their own terms. His "B" squad coach had given him a slogan which he had never forgotten. "It isn't the size of the dog which counts in a fight as much as the size of the fight in the dog."

Cain had a reputation as a book-worm among the students of his class. He enjoyed learning as much as he enjoyed football. His ambition was to be a doctor. This may have been unrealistic in relation to his ability, but it was consistent with his personality. He wanted to be the best, and the best vocation he could think of was that of a medical doctor.

The two tackles would probably be the largest in the league again this year. Jerry Small stood six feet three inches and weighed 255 pounds without his uniform on. Once his schoolmates had called him "fatty", but this had given way to "Tiny" which was more appropriate. Tiny was not fat, he was just big. He had arms and legs twice the size of most boys his age.

No one dared to call him "fatty" any more. No one did, with the possible exception of Ken Whisk, the other tackle. Ken looked down on his teammates from his six foot five inch height. He played center on the basketball team after football season was over, but in the autumn he enjoyed using his 235 pounds to open holes in the opponent's line or tackle their runners.

Whisk was not only big but he was also rough. Moreover, he was strong-willed. Often he teased his friends by doing things they did not like and then dared them to make him shut up. On the field he was all seriousness about the game. All of his teammates were glad he was on their team, rather than having to play against him.

The seniors who played end were Augie Bent and Jay Roberts. Jay was a tall, quiet, serious boy who did his job as it should be done. He had played right end on offense and defense. The left end was also a tall boy but was as talkative as Jay was quiet.

Augie announced, when he first reported for football at Foxville, "Your worries are over, Coach. I'm going to be your new quarterback." After a tryout at that position, he was moved to the end position, where he had remained; a good pass catcher and fair blocker.

Several other seniors had won letters but had not played regularly last year, nor were they expected to win starting positions from the juniors this year.

Football practice would begin officially on August 29, which was one full week before school began. Conference rules prohibited any official practice before that date; but that did not prevent the fellows from holding "unofficial" practices.

Cain had called most of the prospective players on the phone and told them to get out for the practices. They began working out about three times a week early in August. They did not work on plays but did some exercises, running and played touch football.

Coach Andrews knew the practice sessions were being held, but did not attend. One evening his curiosity became too strong. He yielded to his desire to see how they were doing. When he drove his car into the parking lot near the field he saw the boys doing calisthenics with Wayne in front of them, calling instructions, and leading them. It was then he decided to make Cain the team captain.

Bob Andrews was looking forward to his first season as varsity coach. He had come to the school as an English teacher five years ago. His coaching duties had been as an assistant football coach and coach of the junior varsity basketball team. After last season the former football coach was forced to retire because of his health. This gave Mr. Andrews the opportunity to be the head coach, a chance which he accepted with great enthusiasm.

Andrews had been an athlete for as long as he could remember. He played three sports during his high school days. In college he had been on the football team but never made the first team. He would tell anyone who would listen that his college teammates called him "Judge" because he spent so much time on the bench.

Assisting Mr. Andrews in his first year as head coach was Russell Miller. Mr. Miller had just graduated from State College where he played guard on the football team. As the assistant coach his job would be to coach the lineman, a task for which he was well prepared.

Early in the summer Mr. Andrews sent letters to all of the boys in school inviting them to come out for football. He pointed out the values to be gained from participation in the sport. He told the boys to get their physical cards from the school office and have a doctor's examination showing their fitness.

In his letter Mr. Andrews told of his plan to give every boy a chance to make the team if he was willing to work hard. He also warned the veterans that no one was certain of a position on the team because of their past performance alone. Everyone would be placed on the squad in a position he had earned in practice.

Finally, the letter suggested a summer conditioning schedule for prospective players. He told them to run and exercise. "Everyone", he wrote,"should be prepared to run a mile in satisfactory time depending on the individual's weight." If the boys came to the first practice conditioned well enough to run that far, they would be ready to play football.

Tom and Tim received their letters as they arrived home from a day on the golf course.

"What do you make of this guy, Andrews?" Tom asked. "He sounds like he's going to be tough."

"Aw, forget it, Tom;" said Tim from his reclining position on the sofa, "We don't need to worry. He'll be glad to have us. He's gotta win, and he knows we're his best players. We'll be playin'".

The Brown twins were enjoying their summer vacation too much to go out to the field and work out. They played golf most of the time during the day and in the evenings rode around town with their friends. Sometimes when they passed the school where the others boys were practicing, they called to them and laughed at them for working so hard.

The jibes did not go unnoticed by the other team members. The boys who liked to play and wanted to be prepared were the ones who were out on the field practicing. Other years the Brown boys would have been out there, too. This year the fellows were worried about them and their change of attitude.

Mr. Brown had noticed the players one evening as he drove past the school. The next evening at the supper table he asked, "Why don't you fellows go out and practice with the others this year?"

Tim quickly answered, "What for? We're in better shape than those guys already. Why, they could practice a month and still not be as good as we are. Right, Tom?"

"Sure, Dad, Tim's right. We'll go out when the regular practices begin. We'll be ready."

"Now look fellows - - - - " Mr. Brown started. That was as far as he went.

"r-r-r-r-ring" the telephone interrupted.

"Yeah," barked Tom into the mouth piece. "Oh. Hi. You have? Sure, we'll go. O.K., see ya."

"Who was that?" asked Tim.

"Larry. He's got the car and wants us to go to the drive-in movie with him." And then to his father he said, "Dad we need some money. Can I have five dollars?"

"Then you're not going to go to practice tonight either?" Mr. Brown asked in a half questioning tone, yet answering the question for himself.

"Don't nag the boys, Dear," scolded Mrs. Brown, "Give them the money and let them enjoy themselves."

Taking the five dollar bill from his father, Tom departed saying, "Thanks, Dad. Don't wait up for us, we'll be late."

"Yeah, thanks" added Tim, "and don't worry about us. We'll make it alright. No use getting all sweated up before we have to."
CHAPTER 2

I'LL TELL 'EM, COACH

Every football player faces the first day of practice with mixed emotions. It is the beginning of a hard grind of practice sessions which are physically and mentally tiring. It also marks the beginning of a new opportunity, which is even greater when the team is the popular choice to be the new league champions.

The schedule called for all of the boys to report between nine and eleven o'clock to be issued their equipment. Actual practice would begin at two o'clock.

Long before nine o'clock most of the players had arrived. Among the first in the line were Tim and Tom Brown. They teased and joked with the others present about their evening practice sessions. The joking was received very coldly by those who had been conditioning themselves so faithfully.

When the Browns began talking about the football season with its obstacles and prospects, the fellows became more interested. Soon all were talking about the chances of winning. Tim and Tom did not minimize the part they expected to play this year.

"All we need is a line that can hold the other teams," offered Tom, "We'll do the rest."

When the boys were issued their uniforms they claimed a locker and stored their equipment. One of the new additions in the locker room, noticed by all, was the signs placed all around the room. When one came into the locker room, he read:

"HE CAN WHO THINKS HE CAN"

On another wall were several philosophical slogans. One read:

"IT TAKES A COOL HEAD

TO WIN A HOT GAME"

Another warned:

"IT IS THE HEEL

WHO DOESN'T TOE THE LINE"

And still another stated:

"OPPORTUNITY KNOCKS

BUT IT DOESN'T BREAK DOWN THE DOOR"

Pasted on the mirror where all of the boys could see it every time they paused to see themselves, which was often for some, the coach had placed a typed slogan which read:

"YOU ARE NOW LOOKING AT THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON

IN ALL THE WORLD!

MAKE HIM A PERSON THE WORLD WILL BE PROUD OF."

Each boy looked around the room as he came in with his football gear. Most of them read the signs out loud. Some had comments; others just read them and went on. All were being subjected to Coach Andrew's ideas and philosophy pertaining to the game of football.

Hot weather and early football practices seem to go together like hot dogs and mustard. The sun was very hot for the first day of practice this year. At noon the thermometer on the bank downtown indicated it was 85 degrees. Riding past the building, the boys commented on how hot it would be on the field in the afternoon.

Also riding past the building in another car were the Brown twins. When they saw how hot it was, they decided to wait until the next morning to report for their first practice.

"I think we can do as well on the golf course as they will do on the field, don't you, Tim," said Tom, who was usually the first to suggest contrary behavior.

"Guess so," replied Tim, "Boy, it'll be hot out there today. I bet he'll work their tails off too."

After lunch the twins told their mother they were going to football practice. They put their football shoes into their car which already contained their golf clubs. Soon they were on the golf course hitting the little round ball with such concentration that they completely forgot football practice.

Smitty was the first to ask about the missing teammates. Everyone was dressed and on the field early. It wouldn't have been surprising if someone was late, but when two o'clock came and Coach Andrews called the fellows together Smitty stopped near Augie Bent and said, "I wonder what Coach will do when he finds the twins aren't here."

"We'll soon know," replied Augie nodding to the coach.

"Let's check the roll first," said Mr. Andrews and he began to call off the names of the boys who had been issued equipment.

"Tim Brown," called the coach in alphabetical order without looking up from his clipboard.

No answer.

"Tom Brown"

Again no answer.

Mr. Andrews paused, looked around at the silent boys, then simply said, "I guess they don't need the practice," and he continued calling names.

When roll-call was over, the coach laid out the general plan for practice sessions. "We'll begin by taking two laps around the field. That means around the back stops," he said, pointing to the baseball backstops which were in opposite corners of the field, "and around the flag poles on the other corners. When you finish that we'll have calisthenics and then two more laps. After that we'll take a short break right here. O.K., let's go! Two laps and I want to see the backs leading the way!"

Laps around the big practice field were just a little less than half a mile. Two laps were nearly a mile. The boys soon spread out in a long line. The faster and better conditioned fellows stepped out ahead, while the bigger boys and stragglers brought up the rear of the line.

Wayne was one of the first to complete his two laps. When he came in Coach Andrews said, "Wayne, I want you to lead them in the exercises today. I'll tell you what to do."

"O.K., Coach" said the eager senior as he assumed his position facing the place where the team would line up.

"Three lines facing Cain," called Andrews, as the boys came back to the place from where they began, "Hurry up there! Let's go!"

Most of the boys had worked up a good sweat by running, but they all dripped with perspiration by the time they completed their exercises.

"Start with side-straddle-hops," ordered the coach, "A good warm-up drill."

"Alright gang, let's go! One-two, one-two, one-two", called Cain as he started jumping and swinging his arms up from his side to slap them together over his head.

"Next, we'll do some trunk-twisters to loosen up the muscles around your middle. Like this, arms out. On one, swing way around facing the left. Keep the arms parallel to the ground and go as far around as you can. On two, bring them back to the starting position and stop. On three, to the right, and four, back. Stretch those muscles good."

"O.K.," added Cain, "one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four," he counted while they all did the drill.

The next fifteen minutes were spent exercising. The trunk-twisters were followed by squat jumps, pushups, leg lifts, and various other "tortures". These were followed by two more laps, running under the sun, which by this time had thermometers registering over 90 degrees.

When the runners finally dragged themselves around to the starting location, they found Coaches Andrews and Miller standing on the raised pitcher's mound of the baseball diamond.

"Some of you look tired," Andrews dryly joked.

Most of the boys were too tired to think it funny. Smitty was the only one to answer. He said, "I'm pooped," and he collapsed.

"I know it's hot out here, but this is the best weather there is for conditioning." Coach Andrews spoke the truth from his viewpoint, but many of the boys listening would have liked to try doing their conditioning in cooler weather.

"You fellows all know the school policy on training. I hope you will be tired enough to get to bed early, but tired or not, ten o'clock is the deadline."

'Does that mean weekends too, Coach?" asked Augie Bent.

"No, you can have until eleven on Friday and Saturday nights, but remember, this is your team. You cannot do your best unless you are in the best possible condition. That means eat properly and get enough sleep. If you are caught out after hours, you will have to be dropped from the squad. If you aren't caught, you are still cheating yourself, cheating your teammates, and cheating your school."

"One more thing," he added, "we will not have any smoking or drinking. If we go anywhere in this league, we do it because we are in better shape than the other teams.

"Now you have had a good break, we'll divide up. The backs stay with me. The linemen go with Mr. Miller."

Mr. Miller took off calling out, "Over here gang. We'll start on the sled."

Wayne Cain bounced up at the order and started to follow Mr. Miller. After a few steps he paused, looked back at some stragglers who were just pushing themselves up from the ground, and shouted, "You heard him, let's go." At the command from their fellow player, they moved more quickly and followed him to the other end of the field.

"What do we have for backs?" asked the coach as he huddled with his ball carriers.

"Tim is the quarterback and Tom is left halfback," volunteered Smitty. He was going to say more but was cut off.

"Smitty," began coach coldly, "If they are part of this team why aren't they here? You can tell them that if they expect to play on this team, they had better report for practice tomorrow and not miss another one all year. We have some good sophomores who will play before I'll play anyone who skips practice. Will you tell them?"

"I'll tell 'em Coach," replied Smitty meekly, realizing too late that the remark was meant not only for him but also for the others present.

The rest of the practice was routine drills on skills learned in previous years but in constant need of review. They worked on their stance, start, hand off and receiving the ball, carrying the ball, pivots and stiff arm. Two more laps around the field and the first practice was over.

The benches in the locker room, out of the hot sun, were a welcome sight to the boys as they came in tired and breathless from the practice field. No one had enough ambition to participate in any horseplay. Most of the boys had to drag themselves through the process of undressing, showering, and dressing in their street clothes.

While they were dressing, Smitty told Wayne what Coach had said about the Brown twins. "Do you think he means it?"

"Sure he means it, and why shouldn't he?" put in the little guard. "How would you handle guys like them if you were Coach?"

"They're good ballplayers. I'd let 'em play," he quickly replied.

"That's a good reason for you not bein' coach then," came back the reply. "I think we'd better tell 'em and get 'em out to practice or we'll be playin' with sophomores and end up like a couple of years ago."

Mr. Brown asked his boys how football practice went when he saw them at dinner that evening.

"Fine," said Tom, but he didn't elaborate.

"Wasn't it hot out there?"

"Sure," replied Tim, "but we're in good shape. It didn't bother us much."

When the phone rang, Tom hurried to answer. "Yeah,"

It was Smitty, and he told him what the coach had said.

"Oh," Tom said, "Don't worry about that. O.K., we'll see you in the morning," and he hung up.

"Who was that," asked his brother.

"Smitty, he said I left my shirt on the bench, and he put it in his locker," Tom lied.

Several more phone calls that evening interrupted the Browns. Each time one of the twins answered and made up a story about it. Their lies were not discovered by their folks. They also got the message, loud and clear, that they were expected at practice.

Tom and Tim liked the glory which they received from sports and decided the time had come to go to work. They reported for the morning practice on Tuesday and made the afternoon practice as well.

Walking on the golf course was much different from running with football pads on. That first day was real torture for the twins. A few of their teammates felt sorry for them in their misery, but most of their "friends" felt it served them right for the earlier remarks made by the twins.

"No use getting' sweated up before you have to. Right, Tom?" asked Augie Bent of the exhausted newcomer.

"I feel great. How 'bout you, Tom?" asked Tiny Small.

Whisk was blunter when he told the team, "Hey, gang look at our heroes now. You'd never think those guys could be all-conference. Just look at 'em."

"Knock it off, fellows," barked Wayne Cain. "Save your energy for football."

After two practices on Tuesday, the twins were tired enough to have it show at home. Mr. Brown laughed as he asked them how it happened they were in such good shape the first day and so tired the second. "That new coach must have really made you work today."

"Leave the boys alone, dear. Can't you see the poor darlings are tired," cooed Mrs. Brown and the subject was dropped.

Under a hot sun and clear sky, the team practiced twice a day for the whole week. With ideal weather conditions the boys quickly became hardened to the running, exercising, and the bumps and bruises from blocking and tackling. The twins, who began their training after the others did, usually trailed the other boys when they took their laps. They scoffed at the eager players for making them look bad, but in spite of themselves and their contrary attitude, even they were showing noticeable improvement.

Most of the practices of the first week were spent on fundamentals; drills for improving their running, blocking, tackling, passing, and kicking skills.

Every practice, during the break, the coach would lecture to the boys about training rules, sportsmanship, game strategy and plays they would use. The sessions always took place with the coach on the pitcher's mound of the baseball field and the players sitting around on the ground.

One of the sessions produced a good laugh, and a name for the talks. After he had run his laps and was parking his weary body near the coach, Dick Schultz, the second string quarterback, called to his teammates, "Come on children, and gather at the feet of the master for another sermon on the mound." Thereafter the discussions or talks were called the "sermon on the mound", even by Coach Andrews.

By the end of the week, the linemen and backs were put together and began to work as a unit. The line with five veterans was showing signs of strength. Mr. Miller recognized the ability of the seniors and had them in his first unit. Wayne Cain was at right guard with Ken Whisk at right tackle and Jay Roberts at right end, just as they were at the end of last season. Augie Bent and Tiny Small were at left end and tackle respectively. Left guard was being played by Pat Olson and Don Lake was at the center position. Olson and Lake were juniors; big, strong and eager to play. Both coaches smiled a happy smile as they watched the line work. They were confident that they had a line to be proud of.

The backfield was not doing as well as Mr. Andrews had hoped. He had Tom at quarterback, Tim at left halfback and Smitty at right halfback. Joe Blaine, a junior, was practicing in the fullback position. Each boy seemed to have the ability, but they had not begun to work together yet.

"We're going to use the same plays we used all last year," Mr. Andrews told his team. He had some new ones to introduce later, but he did not want to make the thinking any more difficult than necessary at first. Even though the plays were the same, the backs had trouble running them. They did not seem to execute them as they should. "It's still early in the year. They'll get them," Mr. Andrews confidently said to his assistant.

Saturday's practice would consist of a game-type scrimmage. The first string line would play with the second string backfield while the first string backfield would run behind the second string line. This way it would even the teams up better. While planning for the scrimmage, Coach Andrews again wondered why his backfield was not operating properly. He had a feeling the fault lay with the twins. He knew they were not working as hard as they could. He observed them trailing the others while running laps and loafing through calisthenics. He sensed antagonism between them and the other team members.

If he could have seen them Friday evening, he would have known more about them. They had dates and were out long after the hour they should have been home.

"What do you think Coach would say if he saw us now?" asked Tom, while they were going home well after midnight.

"Nothing," replied Tim. "He needs us or he won't have a team. Why don't you get it through your thick skull and stop worrying!"

"Yeah, I guess you're right, only - -"

"Besides," added Tim, "Dad would fix it up if we did get caught. He wouldn't stand for Andrews kicking us off, would he?"

Mr. Brown had been a football player when he was in college and was still very much interested in the game. He gained a lot of pride and satisfaction from seeing his sons play football.

In their earlier years, the twins had the good fortune of having personal coaching from their experienced father. The last few years, however, Mr. Brown had become so busy with his business and community affairs that the boys were left pretty much to themselves. One of his duties was being a member of the school board. It was this position of authority which the boys thought was their insurance. Coach Andrews wouldn't dare kick the stars off his team, especially if their father was on the school board.

"But, he could tell Dad, and then we'd be in trouble with him. Maybe he'd take the car from us," Tim said, ending the conversation.

Many of the fans were present on Saturday morning for the intra-squad game. Most were disappointed when they saw how the team was divided because they had hoped to see the Brown boys run.

It was not surprising to the coaches that the first string line was able to contain the backfield with comparative ease. They knew the line would be good and they were not disappointed.

When the game was over the first team backfield and the second team line were three touchdowns behind. The real fact was that they hadn't managed to gain more than about twenty yards in the whole practice.

"What did you expect," asked Tim of a fan. "They knew our plays and we couldn't do anything with that line we had."

"Wait 'till next week, wait 'till they're on our side in a real game", added Tom as he stepped beside Tim.

"Fellows," said Coach Andrews as his team gathered in the locker room away from the fans. "We liked some of the things we saw out there today. We also saw some things we didn't like. The line looked fine. You fellows did some good blocking and good tackling, and there was some good team play on defense; but you backs have a great deal of work cut out for you for next week.

"No practice this afternoon, Sunday or Labor Day, but be ready to begin again Tuesday right after school. Remember, our first game is next Friday at Samson High. That means only three practices; and boys, we need them."
CHAPTER 3

A LATE ADDITION

Excitement ran high on Tuesday, but it wasn't for football. Most of the thoughts were centered on the classes which marked the beginning of a new school year. There was a lot to be done the first day. Each student had to get his schedule, find his classes, meet their new teachers, get their textbooks and find out who else was in their classes.

Everyone seemed happy to be back "at the old grind" or "back to the workhouse" again. Smiles and happy greetings were heard everywhere. Backslapping and friendly poking were seen frequently, as students greeted schoolmates they hadn't seen all summer.

Little thought was given to football by the coaches either; they had their teaching duties to perform. Mr. Miller looked twice at one of the boys as he came into his sixth hour economics class and took a chair near the rear of the room. The boy had all the physical characteristics necessary for a football player.

Mr. Miller walked back to where the boy was sitting and asked him his name.

"Gutsberg," he replied slowly, "Why, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just wondered who you were."

Feeling more relaxed he said, "My name's Dean Gutsberg but my friends call me Guts".

"Should I call you Guts too?" Mr. Miller asked. This drew laughter from the class which was trying to decide what to make of the newcomer.

"That's up to you, Mister," was the answer reflecting an uneasy feeling over the laughter.

"Are you new here?"

"Yeah, I'm from Chicago. I'm livin' with my uncle on a farm out here," he said as he nodded his head.

"Ever play football?"

"Nope."

"Would you like to try? We have a good team but could use some more good players."

"I don't know. What would I hafta do?"

"Will you stay a minute after class? We can talk more about it then."

"O.K."

For the teacher, the rest of the class went much like any other class, but from time to time he found himself looking over the prospective player. He looked like a fire plug in the seat, rather than a seventeen year old boy.

"He must weigh at least 200 pounds," the coach thought to himself as he looked at Guts, "and he isn't over five feet ten inches tall either. He just has to be a football player."

Gutsberg sat through the period but was very uneasy. He felt everyone watching him and he didn't know whether he liked the attention or not. Making the decision to play football – or not to play – also was giving him some uneasy moments.

Dean Gutsberg had come from Chicago to live on a farm near Foxville early in the summer. More accurately, he had been sent there by a juvenile court judge after having been brought to the court several times. The judge considered sending him to the state's school for boys; however, on the advice of a social worker, the farm was chosen instead.

Guts, as he liked to be called, had been a good boy in his youth, and had made good marks in school. Two years ago his father died leaving Dean, his two brothers and three sisters dependent upon their mother. His mother worked to support the family, but it became increasingly more difficult for her to control her children.

Dean had done poorly in school last year. Worse than that – the gang which he had been associating with was constantly in trouble. The principal, the caseworker and others who knew him spoke well of his ability. They pleaded with the judge to find some other way of handling him than to send him to the reformatory.

It was at this point in the proceedings that Mrs. Gutsberg's sister offered to take the boy to their farm for the summer. The farm life could be a good treatment for the troubled boy.

Life on a farm was different from that of the city. The hard work he did willingly was harder work than he had ever done in his life. Almost every night for the first few weeks he had seriously considered running away and returning home. In the midst of his thinking about leaving, he would sit down to a real country dinner and his plans would change.

What the average American boy took for granted in the way of meals was a new treat to the city lad. He had never had meals like his aunt prepared: a big piece of roast beef, a juicy slice of ham with candied sweet potatoes, a big plate of fried chicken and always second helpings – more if he felt like it. Following the main course was always a big piece of cake or pie with ice cream on it. These things were the persuaders which kept him from leaving.

After a couple of weeks, all thoughts of returning to the Chicago apartment and to his gang were pushed to the back of his mind, and he began to enjoy his new life.

He did miss his family, though. In his spare time he played games with his cousins. Although he was older and bigger, he soon realized that they were better at throwing a ball and putting the basketball through the hoop on the barn. He realized he had a lot to learn.

Sitting in the classroom waiting for the bell to ring when he would again be asked to go out for football, Guts found it difficult to make up his mind. He had never played football; in fact, he had never really seen a football game. Oh, he had gone to games his school had played. He had gone with his gang, but only "squares" sat in the stands and watched the game. He and his pals used the time to walk around and find some girls or get into a fight. Some real scrapes resulted from arguments stirred up at football games - - and now, Mr. Miller wanted him to PLAY football.

He had not thought of much else that hour, but when the bell rang he still had not made up his mind what he should say. Maybe he should have gone home to Chicago instead of coming to school here, after all; then he wouldn't have been faced with a problem like this. It seemed difficult for him to decide.

His uncle had given him the opportunity to stay, not really expecting that he would do it.

"Dean," his uncle said to him one day during a break while they were working on the corn picker, "We'll be using this machine in a couple of months. How would you like to stay here and help us?"

"Do you mean it, Uncle Charley?" was his immediate, excited reaction. "Oh! But I couldn't," he thoughtfully added after a pause, "I gotta' go back home so I can finish school. You know what the judge would do to me if I didn't."

"Well, would you like to stay if I could fix it up for you? I think maybe I could get the judge to agree to let you stay here and go to school here if you want to." Actually Mr. Wise had been writing to the judge regularly. The judge had been told of the change which had come over Dean since he had come to the farm. Now, if Dean wanted to stay and his uncle was willing to have him, the judge would probably agree.

"I don't know," was Dean's studied answer. "Let me think about it."

"All right, Dean, but you will have to decide soon because school starts in two weeks. If you're going home we'll have to get someone else to take your place. I can't do all this work alone." This was not quite accurate as Uncle Charley was well aware. He had done it alone before Guts came, and he could do it alone again. The boy, however, had been a great help and Guts liked the idea of being wanted and needed.

The summer on the farm had done wonders for the person and personality of the big city boy. As he pondered his decision to stay on the farm or return to Chicago many thoughts ran through his mind. He had never enjoyed such wonderful food as his aunt fed him, nor so much of it. Patting his stomach, Dean thought, "I must have added 20 pounds. Boy, I could really be rough in a rumble now!"

"Rumble - - street war - -gang fight," he thought. "It's funny; it's been weeks since I thought of the gang. What's more, I haven't missed them nearly as much as I thought I would."

"Sure is funny," he said out loud but still talking to himself, "Who would've thought that I - - Guts - - would've turned out to be such a square."

He didn't say it, but it was foremost in his mind; the thing he feared he would miss the most was the authority of his uncle. A boy needs to have a man who stands by him and helps him to learn the ways of life. What he missed the most about his own father was having someone to tell him what he should do or to correct him when he did wrong, someone to talk to man-to-man.

Dean and his uncle hadn't had any man-to-man talks like they tell about in books. Many times they had talked together while cleaning the barn, repairing machinery, or doing other chores around the farm. That was the man-to-man relationship he feared he would miss the most, just to be with a man who would talk friendly to him.

He had given up smoking, too. He hadn't had any beer for a couple of months either and he didn't miss it. To his gang these were signs of toughness. He recalled how his pals placed so much importance on smoking and drinking because by doing these things they felt they were grown up. It seemed silly to Guts now, to think that such habits were signs of being grown up.

"Sure is funny how a guy can change," he said to himself. No one told him he couldn't smoke or drink. He soon noticed that his uncle and aunt didn't smoke, nor did their friends. They didn't drink beer either. It didn't seem right for him to smoke in the house or around them, so he didn't do it. The first couple of weeks he was on the farm, he would take a walk out behind the barn or machine shed and puff on his cigarettes, but even then he felt a little guilty.

Guts decided to quit that, too, one day when his cousin followed him and stood at the corner of the barn watching him. He couldn't explain the odd feeling which overcame him, but it was enough to make him give it up altogether. That happened several weeks ago. Now, he no longer had any desire to smoke.

One day while riding home from the mill with his uncle, Dean asked, "Why don't you smoke? Most men do."

"Is there a good reason why I should?"

Guts hadn't thought about it that way before. After thinking some minutes he said, "No, I guess not." Then after a few more moments of thought he asked, "Wouldn't it help when you're nervous?"

I suppose it would help settle a nervousness which you wouldn't have if you didn't smoke," answered his uncle. "Or, I might put it this way: It would help to satisfy a craving which it caused in the first place."

The subject was dropped and nothing more was said about it.

While he was thinking about staying on the farm or going back to Chicago, another train of thought came to his mind. If his gang could only see him on Sundays now they would really be chuckling. He was what he and his gang called "a Sunday School boy." Yes, on Sundays he put on his white shirt and necktie and went to church with his aunt and uncle. Although he felt very uneasy at first, in the strange surroundings, he had become accustomed to it, and he even enjoyed going now. But, he wouldn't tell anyone. That was another thing tough guys didn't do.

At supper that evening Dean announced that he had decided. He would like to stay and go to school here, if he could. He was a little surprised to hear himself say it because he realized life was going to be different now. The changes made were to be permanent. He felt a wave of relief when he made his decision.

"Fine," said Uncle Charley, "I'll write to the judge tonight and ask him for his approval."

"Would it help if I wrote too?" asked Dean.

"I'm sure he would like to hear from you. That's a good idea."

That evening both letters were written and put in the mailbox for the mailman.

A few days later, the much awaited letter arrived from the judge. The judge approved the plan with some suggestions for Dean to follow during the year. The letter had been written in longhand and addressed to the boy.

"Gee, look at the letter he wrote to me," called Guts as he brought the mail in to his aunt, "He's an alright guy; you can tell that. He says I can stay here if I go to school."

The last week of summer had been a long week because Guts was waiting to see what the small town school would be like. He had found little differences in the school so far, but now that the economics class was ending, he had to decide whether he would go out for football. The judge had suggested that he take part in as many school activities as he could to broaden his education and meet more people.

"Well," asked Mr. Miller after the bell rang, "wouldn't you like to try out for football?"

"What will I have to do?"

"Just fill out a card, get a physical examination and report."

"No, I mean after I get out there. I don't know how to play."

"Oh! Don't worry, I'll find some place to use you. When we decide what you can do, we'll teach you all you need to know. That's the great thing about football. If you really want to play, there is a place for you."

Dean was a little hesitant because this was so different from anything he had ever done before. It didn't seem right for him to say "No" to Mr. Miller, so he said, "Yes."

"Meet me in the gym after school. I'll take care of the details for you," Mr. Miller said.

After school was dismissed, Miller met Guts and introduced him to Coach Andrews. A couple of quick phone calls and he received approval from his uncle and arranged for a doctor to give him a physical examination.

When Gutsberg returned from his physical exam, he was outfitted with his equipment and reported to the field just as the team finished their running. He arrived in time to hear the coach review the practice plans for the week ahead.

Practice after a few days vacation is usually sloppy and sluggish. It seems to take a day or two to get back into the swing of things again. The practice on Tuesday evening was poor \- -as expected - - with one very notable exception. That exception was the new prospect.

"Hamburgers on the menu for tonight," Coach Andrews announced. Coach Miller took Guts to one side to show him some fundamentals of football while Andrews ran the drill. "Hamburger" was the name applied to any drill where "live bait" was used; this was in contrast to working on blocking dummies.

The one-on-one drill used tonight was one of the coach's favorite drills. A lineman set himself between two blocking dummies laid on the ground about six feet apart while a back ran straight at him. By sidestepping, pivoting, stiff arming or some other trick the back tried to get past the lineman without being tackled.

After a three-day lay-off the linemen were not doing very well; the backs were running all over them. Mr. Andrews watched disgustedly for a short time, and then called to Guts, "Come on over here and see if you can stop these backs."

Mr. Miller had only worked with Dean for about fifteen minutes. He had shown him a defensive stance and had him tackle the dummy a few times.

When Guts arrived where the drill was being held, Coach Andrews told him, "That ball carrier is going to try to get past you. See if you can tackle him."

"O.K., Coach," said Guts as he assumed his position. The fellows on the team snickered and laughed at the awkwardness of the new player when he tried to get his hands and feet in position. He looked much like a frog about to leap.

"Alright Smitty, come on through him."

"Take it easy on him, Smitty," called Joe Blaine, the fullback, who was waiting the next turn.

Smitty, in one of his less than brilliant moments, took the coach's words literally. He tucked the ball under his arm, put his head down and tried to run "through" the waiting Guts.

CRACK - - THUD - - was the only sound heard. Smitty's shoulder hit Gut's chest. He bounced off him like a rubber ball. When Guts tried to put his arms around the runner's legs to complete the tackle, nothing was there - - Smitty had bounced off and was lying in a heap on the ground.

A mixture of laughter and shock fell over the other teammates. For a few moments no one moved, and then the coaches rushed to Smitty, rolled him over and tried to talk to him.

"It was a big white truck that hit me," moaned Smitty. "I saw it, but I couldn't get out of his way. Oh - - \- - where am I?"

Jimmy, the manager was sent for the first aid kit. When smelling salts were held under his nose, the cobwebs began to clear from his head and he was soon back to normal again - \- except for a good headache.

"Did you see that guy hit Smitty," said Tom to his twin in very excited tones, "and, look at him, it hardly budged him."

When the excitement over the injured boy died down, Smitty was assured that he was not hurt, only shaken a bit. He rose to his feet, shook his head and said to those gathered around him, "I'd rather run into a brick wall than do that again."

Attention then shifted to Guts who had been standing around on the edge of the crowd not knowing what to do. To the coach who was now moving toward him he apologized, "Gee, I'm sorry, Coach, I didn't mean to hurt him but - - "

"Never mind that Guts, are you alright? Do you think you could do that again?"

"You mean you aren't sore at me? Everything's alright?"

"You bet everything's alright. That was the hardest any of our backs have ever been hit. Do you think you could do that again?"

Now Guts was feeling great. He had been able to use his strength and get a good compliment too. This was going to be fun. "I'll try, Coach."

"Tim," called the coach, "Tim, you give Guts a try. See if you can get through him."

Mr. Miller, standing next to Guts, was giving him some instruction. No one was laughing at his stance now. Coach Miller was saying, "Keep your eyes on his belly. Don't look at his head. Drive your shoulder into his midsection just as I showed you on the dummy. Here he comes now!"

POW - - WHUMP and another back was on the ground. Tim had run at him and tried to use a stiff arm so he could slow his charge. His arm strength wasn't nearly enough. Just as he thrust his arm forward Guts' momentum hit him with a SMACK that sounded like a hard slap on a bare back. The tackle was not the neatest ever made, but it took Tim off his feet and put him to the ground with a thud; Guts landing on top of him.

"Are you all right, Guts?" asked Mr. Miller of the smiling tackler, completely ignoring the star back.

"Sure, Coach. Can I try it again?"

"Not tonight," put in Coach Andrews, "We have other work to do. Our team defense needs work too." Then turning to Mr. Miller he said, "Coach, let's try Guts at defensive tackle and move Lake to linebacker. I think we have a big rock for the middle of our defensive wall."

The remainder of the Tuesday practice was spent on defensive formations with the second team offense running plays against the first team defense. This was the first practice where the defense worked together as a team. A lot of work was still needed to learn the strategy and formations better. There was also room for improvement in sharpness and finesse, but that would come with practice.

Guts played his defensive position well. He allowed no one past him in the whole practice. Few even tried, but those who did, felt his hardened muscles clamp on them before they were thrown to the ground.

Playing defense gave Guts a lot of pleasure. "All I have to do is push aside anyone who ain't got the ball. When I find the guy that has got it, I grab him and throw him down." This was the way he explained his assignment to his uncle that evening. "It's just as much fun as the gang fights we used to have but here they like to see me knock 'em down. And we don't have to worry about the cops," he laughingly added.

Pat Olson, the junior center who played across the line from Guts, also told about the new player. He told his father how Guts had stopped Smitty and Tim, and how tough he was in the scrimmage; then he added, "You know, Dad, that guy is so tough that if he called me a dirty name, I'd pretend I didn't hear him."

Guts had made the team.
CHAPTER 4

HALF A WIN

Wednesday had been named by the coaches as "Roster Day." They had promised to post a list of the boys who would be kept on the team.

On Tuesday the freshman reported for practice and on Wednesday they were to get their equipment. The boys who did not make the varsity were to turn in their gear, which would then be used by the freshmen.

At the lunch table Wednesday noon Mr. Andrews and Mr. Miller went over the list for the last time. It was difficult to cut anyone but the limitation of equipment made it necessary.

The list of forty boys was posted as promised. Soon large crowds gathered to find out who had made the varsity. Some expressions of excitement were heard from the crowd reading the names. Some, who did not find their names on the list, were naturally disappointed.

One of the surprises was that no sophomores were named to the team. The underclassmen would not have much chance to play regularly with the good talent available. On the "B" team they would play more and get valuable experience for next year.

Wednesday night's practice was a good session. Those who had made the team were filled with an extra dose of confidence. They ran their laps quicker and put more interest into their drills. The spirit was noticeably improved.

Scrimmage was on the schedule, with the offense working to polish up their plays against the second team. Coach Andrews went over the plan for Friday's game, " The strategy calls for only a few plays in this game. We will use the winged-T formation and the basic plays from last year. We have a few passes that Tom can call to keep them honest. Now, does everyone know his plays? Is there anyone who does not know his assignment on any plays?"

"What do I do when we have the ball?" asked Guts.

Coach Andrews was about to tell him, but Ken Whisk began first, "You play center and guard."

"What's that?" asked Guts.

"Sit in the center of the bench and guard the water bucket." The joke was old but everyone laughed: including Guts who wasn't certain that he understood, but enjoyed laughing anyway.

This week you just play on the defensive unit. Perhaps next week we can work you into the offense. Maybe you can play center," said Mr. Andrews.

"I think I'd like that."

"Now are there any more questions?" Hearing none, the coach began to line up the teams for their practice.

On the third running play, the two halfbacks crashed head-on into each other directly behind the center and quarterback. Both fell to the grass, stunned momentarily. The fullback had run into the line. Tom pretended to give him the ball but pulled it back and started to toss the ball back to Tim who was to run around the right end. It was then that the collision occurred.

"Smitty," yelled the coach, "where did you think you were going?"

"I thought it was a right sweep and I was going to get the ball."

"It was a right end sweep. You don't carry on that. You block!"

"I do? Oh, yeah I remember."

"Now, line up and let's try it again. Smitty, do you know what you do on that play?"

"Yeah, Coach, I'll do my best."

"Russ - - Russ Bikes," Coach called to his reserve halfback who was playing defense. "Do you know what you do on a right end sweep?"

"Sure, Coach, I block the cornerback or the man inside the end so Tim can run around end."

Smitty raised his hand and a very puzzled look came over his face. "If he gets the cornerback, who do I block?" he asked in all seriousness.

When practice resumed, the plays worked better. After running through their series a few times, they set up to play defense and let the second team run some plays.

After a long but lively practice, the boys felt pretty good. There was a lot of horseplay in the locker room but it stopped when Coach Andrews entered. He went around the room stopping first near one boy then another, pointing out good plays he had seen or giving them suggestions for improvement.

"Cain," he said as he sat down next to the small, senior guard who was half dressed, "how would you like to be captain?"

"I'd like that. That would be quite an honor."

"I'm making you captain for this game. If you do a good job the job will be yours all season."

"Gee, that's great. I'll do the best I can."

"I believe you deserve it, Wayne. The fellows respect you and will follow you. I think you will do well."

"I'll try, Coach. Anything special you want me to do?"

"Nothing special, I just expect you to be a leader of this team both on and off the field."

"Off the field, too?" Cain asked thoughtfully. On the field he knew the boys well, and he didn't expect trouble there; but off the field he wasn't certain. He couldn't claim one of his teammates as a close friend. How could he be a leader off the field?

"That's right, Wayne. Games are won off the field. The way a boy lives determines how he will play. If he eats the proper foods and gets the proper amount of sleep he will be strong physically. If he conditions his mind by proper living he will be ready mentally. If he does his best off the field, he'll be ready to do his best on the field, too."

"That sounds like a big job."

"It is a big job. I think you can do it or I wouldn't have asked you. You know what should be done if we're going to have a winning team. Help your team to be better by helping the boys do what they should do.

"I know what you mean."

"Hold it a minute, fellows" called the coach, standing and raising his hand for attention. The noise ended quickly. "I just wanted to announce that Wayne Cain will be the team captain Friday. He'll be my representative and yours. I want you to cooperate with him. If you have some problems and you don't want to tell me, work it out with him. All right, carry on."

"Maybe we should ask him to our party, Tim," asked Tom Brown of his brother, on the way home from practice that night.

"Maybe we should. He can't squeal on us if he comes with us."

The twins were planning a party to be held at their home after the game Friday night. It would be a "victory party" for the first win of the year. Their folks were to be gone for the weekend so the boys would have the run of the house. Many of the seniors and their girl friends were coming; but none of the team had been invited yet. The twins didn't seem to get along with the rest of the team this year.

"We ought to ask Guts, too" added Tom. "He acts like a loner, but he's from Chicago, and I'll bet he knows his way around."

It was agreed to ask both Cain and Guts to the party. In school the next morning Tom walked to class with Guts. He broke the ice by asking, "Do you like parties, Guts?"

"Sure. Who doesn't like parties?"

"Would you like to come to one at our house after the game Friday? We're gonna have a party in the basement."

"What kind of party?"

"Oh, records, dancing, maybe a few beers. Do you have a date?"

"No, I don't know any girls here yet."

"I'll get you one then, how about it?"

"I - - don't - - know. I'll have to think about it. I'll tell ya later."

"O.K., but you better come. It'll be lots of fun."

"Another problem," thought Guts as he walked the rest of the way to his class alone. "It would be fun," he said to himself, "I haven't been to a good party all summer, but I shouldn't go. My uncle wouldn't like it. Coach wouldn't approve of it. I know I shouldn't go."

In the locker room that evening before practice, Tom and Tim found Wayne alone. They asked him to come to their party. A hot discussion followed which Guts observed from the other end of the locker room, but he didn't hear what was said.

Walking out to the practice field, Guts was next to Cain and asked, "Did they ask you to their party?"

"Yeah, but how did you know?"

"They asked me, too."

"Are ya goin'?" questioned Cain.

"I don't know. I haven't said yet. Are you goin'? I guess if you go, it would be O.K. for me to go, too."

Cain thought to himself, "Why leave it to me to think for you?" but he recalled coach's words about being a leader. "I'm not going - - I told them that I wouldn't go."

"Why not?" asked Guts.

"Several reasons," began Cain, "I'm out here to play football. My dad always told me to be the best in what I did. I can't be a good football player unless I keep the training rules. That party will last too late. They won't get to bed by eleven and they'll probably be smoking and drinking, too."

"But, those guys do it. Look how good they are. They're the stars of the team."

"Who says so?"

"Why everybody knows that. I've been here a week, and I know it."

"Well that's what you think! We're all a team. We don't go anywhere in this game alone."

The coach gave the command and the boys began running their laps around the practice field. Cain had to finish his little speech as they trotted along together. 'Let me tell you something else, Guts. Those guys are just naturally good, but they aren't as good, now, as they were last year; and I'll tell you something more, they could be much better if they would give up partyin' and go all out for football."

Cain was quiet and Guts thought about his words. Finally, he said, "I won't go. I didn't really want to go anyway. I mean, down inside of me, I knew it wasn't right."

"Good boy, Guts," said Cain, "now let's run." He began to turn on the speed, leaving Guts far behind.

Practice the night before the game was usually light. There was the usual running and drills but no contact. When Coach took the mound to give his daily pep talk, he said, "We're going to take it a little easier tonight. I'd rather have you go to the game hungry, than fed up with football."

Each practice Coach talked to the boys about something which he felt they needed to know. Tonight it was the place of schoolwork. "Some of you fellows are only in school so you can play football. This shouldn't be your main reason for staying in school. Football is important. You can learn a lot from the game, but it must be second to your class work.

"The things you learn in school will help you to earn a living and teach you how to live. They will be important to you all of your lives. Learn them well.

"If you don't do well in your classes, we don't want you out for football. You are supposed to be representatives of your school. You should set a good example in school, too."

"Now let's get to work," Coach said.

The first part of practice consisted of working on punt formations, punt returns, kickoffs and kickoff returns. During the second part of practice the teams practiced their offensive plays, working on timing and coordination.

After two laps to finish practice, the team sat in the locker room as Coach gave last minute instructions about the first game. "Eat a light lunch and be back here ready to leave for the game at five-thirty."

As they were leaving the locker room, Dean grabbed Tom's arm and said. "Count me out of that party, Tom."

"How come?" asked Tom.

"Well, I don't think it's right to - - "

"What d' ya mean it's not right?"

"You know. We're supposed to be in early and not - -. We'll - - . Coach wouldn't - -."

"Oh, that. Don't worry. He won't ever find out unless some guy squeals."

"Well, it's not right, so don't count on me."

"O.K., but don't forget that we gave you a chance to be somebody and you turned it down."

Guts felt as if he had been "told off" but he felt better about his thoughts than he had before. Doing the correct thing and knowing that he had chosen to do right lifted his spirits.

Friday seemed an extra long day for the team which was anxious to get the first game started. The bus left for the game on time and the boys sat nervously through the 45 mile ride to the game site.

Samson High School was a new school which had just opened this fall. Three area schools had consolidated to make the one large, centrally located school.

No one had yet seen the new school's team play. This was their first game. No one even knew the coach or what kind of football he played because he had come from out of state.

"I feel very nervous about this game," said the coach to his assistant as they neared the school. "I just don't know what to expect from them."

"It's like driving into a strange territory at night," added Mr. Miller. "But don't forget, Bob. This is their first game too. Our kids have last year's experience to go on. Samson should be the ones to worry - - and they probably do, too."

"We'll soon know; here we are."

The "ooh's" and "ah's" from the players indicated their interest in the new, modern school building. When the bus pulled into the parking lot all eyes were on the school and its campus. It was by far the newest school they had seen and they didn't want to miss a thing.

This game was a non-conference game. Samson was a lot further away from home than any league schools. Usually, the team dressed at home and went to the visiting schools suited up. This time the coach had decided to change into football uniforms at Samson High. This gave the boys a chance to see the inside of the new building too.

"Come on gang. Let's think football," said Cain to the players who were wandering around the locker room admiring the facilities instead of dressing. "It'll be a long ride home if we lose."

Before going out to the field to warm up, they went over assignments to make certain there were no mix ups. "Now this is the time we've been getting ready for, gang. All of your friends are here to see you. Let's give them a good show. Warm up well tonight. I don't know what we would do if any of you get hurt."

Once on the field the activity seemed to ease the tension which had built up. The warm-up was going according to plans when a mishap occurred. Gene Fry, a second string halfback, was downfield receiving punts kicked by Tom and Tim. He had just caught a ball and began to run when he stopped and fell to his knees. Other players near him went over to him and went down on their hands and knees too.

The crowd began to notice the odd sight. A slight laughter could be heard, which increased as more and more players joined the group of white and blue uniformed boys on their knees.

Coaches Andrews and Miller had not seen the odd behavior of their players at first; they had been talking to the Samson coaches about ground rules. When they noted the trouble, they headed for the gathering on the run.

"What's this? A prayer meeting?" asked Andrews as he neared the group.

"No, Gene lost his glass eye," said Smitty, half laughing.

"His what?" asked the coach in genuine surprise?

"Not my eye, Coach. I lost my glasses. One of my contact lenses fell out when I caught the punt. It's right here someplace."

"You're sure it's here," asked Mr. Miller as both coaches dropped to their knees to aid the search.

Soon the officials joined the search, which by this time had become the center of attention of all the people in the stadium. The laughter from the uniformed and unsuspecting spectators was accompanied by shouts from the partisan fans.

"What kinda formation d' ya call that," called one gravel throated fan from the sideline.

"You look like a great team that way," yelled another. "Why we ain't even hit ya, yet."

The tiny lens was miraculously found by Jimmy Andersen, the team manager who had also joined in the search.

"Is this what you were looking for?" he asked.

"Let me see it. Yeah, that's it. Thanks a lot, Jim," said the relieved but embarrassed halfback.

"That doesn't look big enough to be a lens for a doll's glasses," laughed Jimmy.

"Alright, gang. It's almost time to start. Run a little signal drill."

Captain Cain went to the center of the field with the officials to meet the other captain and decide who would kick off. Cain won the flip of the coin and chose to receive.

"Little things always manage to upset a team," said Coach Andrews to his assistant. "I hope it doesn't affect the kids tonight."

The whistle blew; the ball was kicked; and the game was underway. The kickoff carried to the 15 yard line and into the hands of Smitty. He started toward the left sidelines before he remembered he was supposed to go to the right. He reversed his direction and swung back toward the other side of the field where he was tackled, not having gained even one yard form where he caught the ball.

Don Lake, the center, called for a huddle. Tom Brown called the first play. Joe Blaine carried the ball for a one yard gain over the center of the line. A halfback slant with Tim Brown carrying the ball gained two more. Finally a sweep around end by Smitty lost the three yards gained previously.

"Fourth and ten," said the referee, but Tom had already received the signal from coach to punt.

"Punt formation, on one. Now hold 'em out gang."

Tom went back to the goal line to get ready to kick. When he saw the team was ready, he called, "One." The ball was snapped to him, and the defenders rushed in. Smitty, who was backing up the line, looked across to the other side where he saw a grey shirted lineman move in, so he left his position and started across to block the oncoming opponent. Just as Smitty moved, Tom put his foot to the ball. Instead of a "THUD" for which the lineman had been waiting as a signal to go down field and make the tackle; what they heard was "THUD-THUD". The ball had been kicked but it had hit Smitty squarely in the seat of his pants.

The surprised linemen turned to see what had happened. They turned in time to see Smitty go down to the ground and the ball bounce backwards passed the goal line. One of the "Foxes" fell on the ball.

"Safety, two points," called the referee as he signaled to the benches. "And you kick off from your twenty yard line," he added to Captain Cain who was standing next to him.

"What a way to start a season," moaned Coach Andrews as he paced the sidelines. "They scored before they even had the ball."

Samson took the next kick-off on their 40 yard line and advanced it to the 45 before being tackled.

The Foxville defense would now get their first chance to show what they could do. Captain Cain moved down the line asking, "Who's got the first tackle?" slapping his players smartly to stimulate them.

Samson's quarterback tried to sneak through the center of the line but Guts hit him and pushed him back.

"Hold 'em again gang," called the players to each other as they dug in for another onslaught; but this time it didn't come to them. The fullback fake into the line was stopped easily, but he didn't have the ball; instead, the quarterback threw a long, looping pass. Tom Brown was slow to cover it because he thought it was too far for anyone to catch. To his surprise, a grey-clad Samson player sprinted under the ball. After catching it, he easily outran Tom for a touchdown.

"That makes the score eight to nothing," announced the man on the public address system. The hometown fans let loose with a loud cheer for their team.

The extra point failed when they tried to run the ball through the center of the line and Guts dropped the runner short of the goal line.

There was no more scoring done in the first half. After the shock of the quick scores, the "Foxes" line played fine ball stopping everything the home team tried. They also rushed the passer and boxed in the ends so no more long passes were completed.

When the teams huddled at the halftime intermission, Tiny Small casually asked Smitty, "Have you got a headache?"

"No, why?"

"Well, if I got kicked as hard as you did in the place where I got my brains, I'd have a headache."

"Knock it off. We have work to do," started Coach. "Now what's wrong with our offense? Don't tell me that it isn't working. Anyone can see that."

"I don't know, Coach," said Tom, "But our timing seems to be off."

"The handoffs are slow. I have to slow up to get them," said Joe Blaine.

"We're getting' holes but they close up before we get there," added Tim.

Coach Andrews made a few suggestions to remedy the troubles. Then it was time to take the field again for the second half.

"Three minutes," called the referee.

"Alright, gang, let's go out and get loosened up. You can still win this, but it will take at least two touchdowns to do it."

Two scores were more than the "Foxes" could manage. They did pick up one touchdown when Joe Blaine pushed it over the goal line on a two-yard plunge. The play had been set up by a series of gains ending with a 15 yard pass from Tom to Jay Roberts, on a down-and-in pattern. Tom kicked the extra point while Tim held it for him. The score was 8-7, and that's the way it ended.

On the bus, ready for their return trip to Foxville, the coach had a few words for his players. "At least we won half a game. We won all but the first few minutes. After that first touchdown, the defense was great, but we must do something to improve our scoring.

"Next week we'll add a few plays and perhaps that will help us to score."

It was after 10:30 when the bus unloaded the team at the Foxville High School.

"Get plenty of rest this weekend," said Coach Andrews as the boys left the bus.

"Is there time for a hamburger, Coach?" asked Tiny Small. "I'm starved!"

"Yes, get something to eat and then get home. Eleven-thirty ought to be time enough."

"Eleven-thirty?" whispered Tom to his brother, "At eleven-thirty our party will be just starting."
CHAPTER 5

REBUILDING

"R-R-R-Ring - - R-R-R-Ring - - R-R-R-Ring". It was the telephone in the Andrews' home at 7:30 Saturday morning.

"Hello," answered Mrs. Andrews. "All right, I'll get him." Mrs. Andrews hurried to the bedroom where the coach was enjoying the luxury of sleeping a little later than usual. "Bob," she called. "Bob, hurry! It's the police on the phone. They want you, hurry!"

In a moment, Mr. Andrews was wide awake and bounded to the telephone. "Hello - - (pause) - - No! - - I don't know! I don't think they would - -. Well, will you let me know as soon as you find out? Thank you for calling."

Andrews slumped down into a nearby chair.

"What is it, Bob? What happened? You're white as a sheet." asked his wife.

"There was an accident over near Whitetown this morning. One of the kids was killed. Three more are seriously injured and are in the hospital. No identification, they had their swimming suits on. They think two of them were the Brown boys but they can't 'rouse anyone there on the phone.

The coach wasn't sure what to do next. He ate breakfast, but it was very tasteless. He dressed to go downtown but he didn't know where he would go or what he would do. Before going to town, he telephoned the Brown home. The phone rang for a long time, but no one answered, so he hung up.

He drove down to the police station where he found out that they had just received further news. The Brown twins had been in the accident but were not seriously injured. Tim had a concussion. Tom had bruises and a badly sprained leg and possible internal injuries.

The police had been given this story. The boys had been at a party at Brown's house. After the party they had taken their dates home. After two o'clock they had decided to go swimming. They had gone home, changed into their swimming suits and went for a swim in White Lake near Whitetown. After swimming, they started for home. Len, the driver, missed a curve on a back road, jumped a ditch and rolled his car over several times.

Len had been pinned under the car and probably died immediately. The others had been thrown from the car. Tim and one other boy had been knocked out. Tom had thought his leg was broken and feared moving, so he had just laid there.

The scene, which was first seen by a passing motorist much later, was a real mess. Police received the call a little after six o'clock. An ambulance took the boys to the hospital.

"Oh, yes," added the desk man, who was reporting the news to the coach. "The officer, who investigated found lots of beer cans in the car, some empty and some full. It looks like they must have had some party."

Anxiety for the welfare of his players was soon replaced with anger in the mind of Mr. Andrews. The last thing the policeman had said was, "They must have had some party. Yet, the last thing he had told them was to get home and get their rest.

Questions began popping up in the coach's mind, "What were they doing out in a car that time of night? Who else had been at their party? Why the beer cans?"

Last night he was worried that someone would be hurt and lost to the team. Now, he wished that they had been hurt playing football rather than this way. Now, he would have to kick them off the team. Even if they were stars; flagrant violation of training rules could not be tolerated. There was no other way than to handle them.

The talk of the town, over the weekend, was the accident. Most of the fans speculated, immediately, on their ability to play after their injuries. It seemed to most of the followers of the team that they would be welcomed back to the team IF they could play. Even some of the players reasoned that they would not be dropped; after all, the team couldn't win without them.

At Monday night's practice Mr. Andrews made it official. The Brown boys were through playing for him. "Win, lose or draw," he said, "we will not play anyone who tries to cheat on his teammates. Winning is important, but learning how to cooperate with the team is more important. If you don't learn this, you've missed the biggest part of the game.

"I'm not going to ask, but I hope none of you were at that party. If you were - - - - - - -- "

"You don't need to worry about that, Coach," interrupted Cain, "Some of us were asked, but we didn't go. Maybe we should have told you."

"No, I don't want any squealers, either. This is your team. You fellows should take care of those things yourself. I know we'll miss those boys, but if that was the way they wanted it, they probably wouldn't have helped us anyway. I hope you fellows learn a lesson from this."

"Enough of this standing around as if we're at a funeral, we have work to do, and lots of it. Let's run the laps." Thus, Coach Andrews ended the discussion about dismissing half of his backfield.

When they divided the team, adjustments were made in the line as well as the backfield. Guts was put into the offensive as well as defense. Pat Olson, a junior guard, was demoted to the second team. Don Lake, who was a good runner and blocker, was moved to guard and Guts would try his hand at center.

Guts was quick at learning to snap the ball to the quarterback. He also quickly learned to hold his position for pass protection and to block both left and right. Before practice was over he looked as if he had played the position for years. The only part of the job he couldn't do yet was to hike the ball accurately on the long snap for kicks; but for that he would switch places with Don Lake, who could make the long snap when needed.

Changes in the backfield were more difficult to make. Dick Schultz would be given the chance to play quarterback. He had played the position on the "B" team last year doing a creditable job. This year he had been relegated to sit on the bench as the number two quarterback, but now the success of the team weighed heavily on his ability to fill Tom's shoes.

Joe Blaine, who had been working at fullback, would now work part time as quarterback, too, to back up Schultz. This was the same part he had played last year and a few times when he was needed, he did well as the signal caller.

Gene Fry, a junior who had been working behind Tim at left halfback, would be moved up to the first team. Gene was a fast runner but didn't have Tim's speed or his all-around ability. If he could keep his "glass eyes" in his head, he should be able to do satisfactorily. He had been teased a lot about losing his "glass eye" since the incident last Friday.

Replacing two experienced defensive backs was not going to be easy either. Smitty and Jim Torkle were to be given first chance at the positions. Smitty had the tools. If he would think well enough to do the job was another matter. Jim Torkle was a junior halfback with little experience. He would probably do better than Fry, who had trouble seeing things from a distance and was better than any of the other candidates available for the job.

The Foxville Booster Club was a tradition that went with football at the school. The adult social club was open to any interested boosters of the team. They met every Tuesday evening during the football season to discuss football and help when they could. The concession stand was one of their projects. The money raised from the profits had been used for a whirlpool bath, football scoreboard and other extras for the team and the school.

The Booster Club meetings usually featured the watching of film of the previous game, (the projector was also financed by the club). Discussions of the games were often held with the coach answering questions. Sometimes, as they did the first night, time was taken to get workers for the concession stand, or to plan activities of the organization.

After listening politely as the coach showed the films and commented about the last game, the lights went on and the boosters began asking questions.

"I understand you aren't going to let the Brown twins play." asked the first questioner.

"That's correct," started Mr. Andrews working his way unknowingly into the trap they had set for him. "I feel sorry for those boys. Not because they were hurt, but because they tried to cheat their teammates and they got caught."

"Then why did you kick them off?" asked the same man.

"We have training rules which are designed to help the boys learn how to care for their bodies . . . and to help them to be in good mental condition. They all know the rules, and anyone who does not cooperate does not play. Eleven-thirty was the time they were to have been in last Friday. They were still chasing around after three o'clock."

The majority of the people present understood the reason behind the coach's action and supported him. It was evident that some of those attending were opposed to his actions. They came prepared to give Mr. Andrews a hard time.

"Your training rules are too old fashioned," began one young man in a very angry tone. "Most of the kids in this town smoke. Do you think you can stop them? All you do is make them hide when they smoke. Why don't you come up-to-date? This is the 20th century we're in."

Another man hit on the drinking rule, "What are you going to do about it if a kid has a beer at home and his folks give it to him?" Then without waiting for an answer continued, "Then what's the difference if he drinks at home or at a party?"

"My daughter goes with a football player. He brings her home so he can be home by ten o'clock. Now what fun can kids have before ten o'clock?" This was a mother attacking the school rule on the time athletes should be home. "I can't see how that is any of your business, what time our kids get home. That should be left up to the parents. Some people need more sleep than others. Shouldn't parents know more about that than some teacher?"

By this time Andrews was burning with rage. It was not surprising that some people were angry with him. That was not unusual. The degree of antagonism shown was very upsetting \- - and they weren't done yet. Several more stood to criticize parts of his rules.

A reporter for the local newspaper was the last to speak. He probably said what the others wanted to say but couldn't. "It seems to some of us that you are the one who has caused this trouble. We have a good team, but it won't be much without those Brown boys. Sure they broke training rules. Lots of kids do it and don't get caught? You have to expect that from kids. They got hurt in the wreck, isn't that enough for you? We think you should apologize to them and ask them to come back out for football."

"APOLOGIZE - - Ask them to come back?" Mr. Andrews was on his feet. "Are you serious?" he asked in disbelief.

"I certainly am", continued the reporter, "and if you don't get them back, things are going to be pretty rough for you. If we don't win this championship, you had better look for a new job."

"Do you have anything to say, Coach?" asked the President of the club.

"I guess I'm in the wrong place," he began, "I thought this was the Booster Club. It seems more like the "booter" club." This caused some laughter and permitted the loyal fans to show their support of the coach by applauding. While the clapping lasted, the coach cooled down considerably and decided on his reply.

He thought these people who object were acting just like kids when you take their teddy bear away from them. They need some teaching, too. The reply was short and simple, "I was hired to coach boys, not to win a championship. Learning to play the game of life is more important than beating someone else. We'll play to win, but we'll play by the rules.

"If you, in your life or your business, don't like the rules imposed on you; you still must follow them, or suffer the consequence. That's the way the game of life is played. That's also the way we teach it in football."

Practice Wednesday was welcomed by the coach. During the night he had rolled and tossed thinking often about the speeches made against him, and thinking of things he should have said but didn't. Much of his spare time in school was also spent thinking about the incident. Mr. Andrews was anxious to get out to the field and work on the rebuilding of the team.

Offense took up most of the practice time. New plays were never introduced and old plays were run over and over again in an attempt to perfect them.

Defensive practice was short, but it was long enough to produce another "Smitty Goof" as the boys called them. Smitty had caught a nice pass from Schultz in the early part of practice, taking it over his shoulder and sprinting away from the defense. Now, while playing defensive back, he made another nice catch. This time he picked off a pass from the intended receiver, circled around, and headed for the goal posts. When he started back toward the rest of the team Coach Andrews met him.

"Nice catch, Smitty!"

"Thanks, Coach."

"But where did you think you were going with it?"

"For a touchdown, where else?"

"But, you ran the wrong way! Didn't you know the difference?"

A few plays later, another pass was intercepted neatly by Smitty. He was running toward the sidelines when he caught it. He circled around in an arc, and again headed for the wrong goal. When he had run a few yards, he heard the team laugh. He stopped, walked toward the coach, and sheepishly asked, "Did I do it again?"

A light practice was held on Thursday night. This was the last practice before the first league game. Rather than being down in spirits from the loss of their backs, the team seemed to be in higher spirits. They knew those who were on the team now were trying their best. No one had felt that way about Tim and Tom.

When Coach told them, "I think we'll win this one," he was speaking his true conviction. Ellison would have the home team advantage; which is a big help, especially early in the season. The "Foxes" had the better line, which also had to be considered as an advantage. "If we can stop them, we should win number one." Mr. Andrew had said to his team.

It rained Thursday night and again on Friday. There was a threat of more for Friday night. When the teams took the field, they both were aware of the advantage the heavier, more experienced Foxville line would have. Strategy for the game was formulated accordingly.

Ellison gambled on long touchdown passes from the start rather than trying to run against the better line on the spongy field. Every play was the type of pass a team would use if they were behind with very little time left to play. On some of the plays, the quarterback faded back into the pocket to pass. Other times he rolled out to one side or the other giving his ends more time to get open. Almost every pass was thrown to their tall right end.

The Foxville line was effective in spoiling most of the passes by rushing the passer before he could get set. This resulted in his passes missing their mark time after time.

The new combination of backs used by the "Foxes" was no more effective than the "Chiefs". Each drive started toward the Ellison goal was stopped by the home team or by fumbles.

Shortly before halftime the "Chiefs" hit pay dirt on one of their long passes. The quarterback took the snap from center and faked a handoff to the halfback going to his left. While the quarterback rolled out to the right, the big right end went straight down the field and the left end went racing into the same zone that the right end was in.

Effective coverage by Smitty and Torkle took them both to the same spot covering the likely receivers but leaving the whole left side undefended. It was into this zone that the "Chiefs' " halfback went. He had carried out his fake so well that when the "Foxes" realized he didn't have the ball they ignored him. He kept running and when the quarterback had pulled the defense to the right side, he threw a long pass to the halfback who was all alone by now. After catching the ball, it was a cinch to score. No one was near him.

The Ellison team lined up for the extra point attempt. Even though the Foxville line poured through, the kicker made a good kick. The scoreboard showed the hometown fans that their team led 7 – 0.

Rain began falling soon after the "Foxes" received the kickoff. This caused the strategy to change again. At the halftime break both coaches had told their teams to play a ground game instead of trying passes. The turf was already wet, and with the extra rain it would be next to impossible to cut or to pass well.

"This should help us," explained Andrews. "They gambled on their best in the first half. They don't have a running game to go with their passing, so this half should be ours."

The second half did seem to belong to the "Foxes". A steady drizzle handcuffed the passers and receivers, while the ground game of the Foxville team worked well.

In the third quarter the heavier, stronger line of the "Foxes" moved the opponent's line out of the way opening hole after hole for short gains. Sometimes the quarterback pushed ahead for a few yards. Blaine, the fullback, drove hard with his feet kicking up the mud. The halfbacks also took turns grinding out a few yards at a time.

Inside the ten yard line Schultz crossed up the defense with a daring, but successful pass play. With the defenders pulled in tight to stop the running game, he tossed a short, basketball type pass to Augie Bent just over the line. The defenders, moving up to stop what they thought was a sure running play, couldn't change directions in time. Augie scored the touchdown.

Because of the rain, Mr. Andrews decided against kicking the extra point try. He signaled to Schultz not to kick.

Dickie Schultz, elated because his change of strategy had been successful on the touchdown, again decided against a straight ahead play. He faked a handoff to the fullback going into the guard's hole, then pitched back to Smitty - - but Smitty wasn't there. He had tried to turn on the soft ground but couldn't. Thus, the ball was thrown backwards to nobody.

"What was he trying to do?" asked the coach to anyone who was listening as he turned angrily and began walking back along the sideline.

In a moment the coach was again shouting encouragement to his team as they returned to the center of the field. "That's all right gang. We need another touchdown to win anyway."

Ellison tried a few passes but with no success. Their line play was weak, and they didn't manage to get even one first down in the second half.

It was not until late in the game that the "Foxes" were able to put together another serious threat to score. Fumbles or miscues had stopped one drive after another until then.

A recovered fumble on the 18 yard line opened the way for the last quarter score. After working the ball down to the two yard line Schultz called for a time out.

"What should we try now, Coach?" asked the signal caller of his coach near the sidelines.

"It's first down and two to go", said the coach slowly trying to figure out which play to suggest. "Let's try the two-play sequence."

Back in the huddle, Dick called the plays. Then he reviewed them for Smitty who couldn't remember what to do.

The first play was a straight drive by Smitty. This gained only a few inches. To the "Chiefs" surprise the visitors lined up the second of their sequence without a huddle. The quick play found Blaine in the end zone before the defense was even lined up properly.

The visiting fans sent up a great cheer which could be heard in spite of the steady rain still falling. His teammates began pounding and slapping Blaine on the back. He had scored, and now the "Foxes" were ahead.

"Hold it, gang. It's no good," called Dickie, his hands hanging limp at his side.

"What's wrong, Dick?" asked Cain from the ground where he had gone down with the defender he had blocked out.

"How come?" pleaded Guts, who had pushed his man way back into the end zone.

"Look at the referee," Dick said pointing to the official.

Ellison fans now had a chance to cheer as the man in the black and white shirt stepped off five yards against Foxville; then gave the signal for illegal procedure.

"What's wrong, Ref?" Cain asked the referee.

"Right halfback started too soon."

"That's Smitty!" said Cain, turning to the halfback he continued, "See what you did now? What's wrong with you? Can't you count?"

"Yeah! I just wanted to get started to get a block."

"You don't even block. You only fake on that play," said Cain.

"All right, we aren't done yet," said Dickie as he knelt in the huddle.

"Smitty, we'll give you a chance to get it this time. We need seven yards. 163 left on three." Then he paused, "got it, Smitty? No goofs."

Smitty nodded that he understood what he was to do. When they lined up he was determined to score and make up for his mistake. At the signal he started running the slanting path he was to take. The ball was given to him, and he continued running toward the left tackle, Tiny Small, who was opening the hole for him.

Just beyond the line, however, he was met by two tacklers. One hit him neatly at his knees; the other hit him in the middle of his back. As he went down the wet ball squirted from his grasp into the end zone where it was downed by the Ellison boys for a touchback.

The "Chiefs" easily stalled out the remaining minute and won the game by the 7 to 6 score.

Ten miles on the bus, returning home after a game of this type seemed as if it took hours. Wet, disgusted boys sat quietly, thinking while the bus rumbled over the road to Foxville. It was not fun for the boys to work so hard to win the game, and to have victory so near only to end up one point short of winning. This had been the story two weeks in a row.

Back at the Foxville High School the coach called his team together before they dressed to go home.

"I only have two things to say about the game tonight. First, I'm sorry you didn't win tonight. You played good football, and I'm proud of you. Every game has a winner and a loser. Tonight we won the statistics but lost the game. Keep working and luck will be with us. We'll win our share.

"Secondly, I'll tell you again; we have some new plays which we need to help our scoring. If you are all back next week, we'll learn them. Know what I mean?"

Most of the team nodded. They understood. They also felt better after hearing some kind words from him. This would be a long weekend.
CHAPTER 6

SURPRISES IN STORE

"We are a weak behind in our practice schedule," complained Coach Andrews in his "Sermon on the Mound" at Monday night's practice. "We had planned to be far enough along by last week to teach you a new series of plays. Then we wanted to add some special plays for Whitetown. I think we have done well to be as far as we are considering the setback we had. We'll learn some of the new plays this week, and I think we will have a few surprises for that Whitetown gang."

Whitetown was one of the big schools in the conference. They could always be considered in the running for the championship along with Elm Lane and Doorland. Last year Whitetown's "Vikings" won the league title; and they, too, had many juniors on their team. Most of the sports writers for the area newspapers had picked them to repeat as champions this year, too.

Most of the conference followers were more certain than ever that the loss by the "Foxes" made it almost automatic for the Whitetown team to win the conference championship. Even most of the local Foxville fans now felt that the "Foxes" were out of the running, and many still blamed it on the coach for purging the team of the rule violators.

It was to be a very important game on Friday. Mr. Andrews and the team were going to be ready for this game. At least they felt they could win and give the hometown fans a show.

The coaches had spent most of Sunday afternoon going over the films of the last game and preparing for the next one.

One of the many items they noted was the one-sided statistics from the game. The Foxville team had ten first downs to their opponents four. Yardage was almost three times that which was given up. All down the line, the "Foxes" had done far better than Ellison. The one thing they hadn't done better was to score more points.

"That makes me sick," said Mr. Miller after going over the results, "Those kids worked so hard and did so well under the conditions. It's a shame they didn't win."

After looking at the game films several times, the coaches noted many errors made by the team. Most of these were made by the backfield men,

"Our line is good. They should get better with more games under their belt," Mr. Andrews told his assistant, "But what can we do to put some punch in our backfield?"

"You know your backs better than I do," the assistant replied. "Don't you have any one who could help?"

"We could use Bikes at halfback. He's mean and tough - - that's why they call him "Tiger" - - but he's too slow. He couldn't run away from his shadow in the open field. And, he's too small to play fullback. No, I don't think he would be any improvement."

"How about Jerry Kenowski?" asked Mr. Miller? "He won't play much behind Blaine."

"No, Jerry is too big for halfback. He's too slow, too. I think we'll keep him at fullback."

Game films had shown that the weakest spot in the backfield was the halfback. He had been detected in motion on the touchdown play but the film showed that he probably could have been called many more times. He was almost always a little ahead or a little behind the rest. On several occasions he was blocking when he should have been faking. He often missed his blocks because he was slow getting to them. This was why they were looking for a new player to fill the position."

"It looks like we're wasting our time looking for a replacement then. He seems to be the best we have, as poor as he is," said Miller, ending that phase of the conversation.

During the afternoon the coaches planned each practice for the week. They went over the scouting report of the "Vikings" and felt that their defense could hold them.

When the time came to teach the new plays, Mr. Andrews was at his best. At the Monday practice he explained his new series. "This is basically the same play that we run from the conventional 'T', but we put one halfback outside of our end, here," he said, walking Smitty to the new "set" position. He paused a moment here and said a little prayer for the back to at least remember where he should line up. "Now this move alone gives us a better blocking position on the end. Look at how he can come in on the end instead of going around to block him." Saying this he walked Smitty to the place where the end would be, bent his head down, and said, "Hit him."

"We'll run a silent pass from the same position. Look," he said lining Smitty up again in his original place, "He runs at the end just as if he would block him, then continues on a slant and receives a pass right over the line."

Another play we'll use this week is a halfback pass. Again we line up the same. The wing-back brushes the end to make it look like a run which will bring up the defense. Then he goes down ten yards, turns out, and gets the pass. The other halfback runs around end, stops and throws. This should be a big surprise for Whitetown.

"And we have one more we're going to prepare for them, the reverse from this position," he continued with mounting excitement. "We run the fullback into the center with a fake to him. Then the left-half into the right tackle hole with a fake to him. Finally the quarterback gives to the 'set-back' who goes naked around the other end."

When the coach said this, Smitty gaped at him and said, "Me? Nude, Coach?"

"No, Smitty, I didn't mean without any clothes on. I mean you'll run around that end without any blockers. If everyone does their job, the whole defense will be over here and there won't be anyone to block over there."

"Oh," replied Smith. "You had me worried."

The backs were anxious to try the new plays. They ran through all of the plays in the new series several times. Each time the coach called instructions to help them to do it correctly. Soon the new plays were shown to the line, which had been working separately on the blocking assignments. Then the whole team tried all of the plays several times.

Boys have a natural optimism. They always seem to find bright lights in the darkness. Anyone watching practice that night would have noticed this. The beginning of practice was dull and routine; much as one might expect from a team which played their hearts out but failed to win. After the new plays were introduced, a new spirit was seen. The old defeat was forgotten, all interest was now centered on winning the next game.

"This is one of the great rewards of coaching," Mr. Andrews told his assistant while they relaxed in their office after practice. "It thrills me to see the spirit of boys come back as it did tonight. You can almost see it."

"Yes," added Miller, "they surely had it at the end of practice tonight. Maybe those beatings will work for our good yet."

"We'll have to be up for this one. Coach Williams thinks they are just as good as they were last year. That means we'll have to be better."

Mr. Williams was the "B" squad coach. Part of his job was to scout the other teams and report on their strengths and weaknesses. Last week he had seen them win their first conference game by an impressive score. They had played Wilton, the smallest school in the conference, and it probably wasn't a real test of their ability. The coaches, at least, were not underestimating their opponent.

The boys thought highly of their competition, too. At Tuesday night's practice they counted for their drills by shouting "Beat Whitetown - - Beat Whitetown" rather than by counting "one – two, one – two, etc."

The team worked on their drills with more vigor than had the previous night. When they ran their plays, especially the new plays, they tore the second team apart.

"We had it tonight, didn't we Coach?" called Captain Cain as he left the practice field heading for a much needed shower. "We'll have it Friday, too, don't you worry!"

Tuesday evening meant another Booster Club meeting for Mr. Andrews to attend. This was one place which he preferred to have stayed far away from. It was traditionally part of his job as coach; therefore, he went.

Since this was the meeting before the first home game, the club spent some time discussing such matters as personnel to work in the concession stand, ordering hot dogs and pop, and how many people to expect at the game. This activity gave the coach time to formulate his strategy.

Looking around at the people attending the meeting, he was relieved to notice many of the antagonists of last week were not present.

When he was introduced to the audience he startled them by saying, "we lost again - - if you only count the score." Then he paused to let the idea sink in. It caused no response.

"When I came here tonight, I felt much like the players in a game several years ago. A college team was playing against great odds and every play they tried was without success. The score was about 80 to 0 against them. Their backs were taking a terrible pounding every time they carried the ball.

"The quarterback called a play requiring the fullback to carry the ball, but he said, "Not me. Every time I go into that line, they knock me down, kick me, hit me, twist my neck and pile on me. Don't ask me to carry it again."

"Next he called on a halfback for an end run. 'No', said the halfback; my legs ache, both arms feel like they're falling off, my back pains me and I have a headache. Don't call my play."

The quarterback turned to the other halfback who answered before the play was called, "Don't look at me. I'm not carrying the ball into that pack of wild animals."

"Well, fellows" asked the signal caller, "do you have any suggestions?"

"An end put an idea out for consideration, He said, 'let's call a long, incomplete, forward pass to me.'"

Laughter greeted the storyteller. Polite giggles and a few hearty laughs came in response to the true story.

"I felt, tonight, much as those backs must have felt. Don't call on me again. But now I am here, I'm glad I came. I noticed a better attitude than last week."

Films of the game were shown with appropriate comments from Mr. Andrews. He expressed his disappointment for the boys and promised surprises for the visitors on Friday.

Question period was more pleasant this week, but a few die-hards put in their questions.

One returnee from last week's session asked if he had changed his mind about getting the Brown twins back out for the team.

"No!"

"Have you started looking for a new job for next year?" asked an elderly man in a tone which obviously was meant to be funny.

"No!" again said the coach, "Are there any questions about football?" he added, bringing out a few chuckles.

The questioning changed to questions such as: why the "Foxes" had the second touchdown called back? Why didn't they try more passes? Why wasn't the halfback covered on the "Chiefs" touchdown play? And why didn't Foxville kick for the extra point attempt. These questions were in the spirit of the event, and Mr. Andrews answered them cooperatively.

Finally, the meeting was over. This time the coach lingered to talk to those present, while enjoying coffee and doughnuts.

On Wednesday the scrimmage was very spirited. Usually more fans attended practice the nights when a scrimmage was scheduled. This night, eyebrows raised as the new plays were tried. The new look lifted the spirit of the fans as it had done for the players. These were some of the surprises the coach had planned for Whitetown.

While the fans were excited, they were also entertained by the antics of Smitty.

Timing of the plays was the major goal of the practice. Smitty had trouble starting at the right time on the reverse. He always started too soon or too late, in both cases, spoiling the plays. He knew in his mind, when he should start, but knowing and doing were two different things.

Mr. Andrews spent a lot of time trying to teach him. Finally, he grabbed the belt of Smitty's pant and held him until the time to go. At the correct time he gave him a push. When Smitty took the ball, he could really run with it. If only he could remember when to get it!

Bikes, from his defensive position, called for the coach. When Mr. Andrews went to see what he wanted. Bikes said, "Watch Smitty from this side. He's pointing."

"Sure enough," said Andrews, after watching for two plays. Smitty was leaning toward the side he was going to run to.

"Smitty," called the coach, "you're pointing the play."

"I'm what?"

"You're pointing the play! You're telling the defense which way we are going to go by leaning that way."

"I can't do that, Coach. Unless I carry it, I don't even know where it is going. How can I tell them?"

"Oh, God," said Andrews prayerfully, "they'll never believe me if I tell them this."

"What d'ya say, Coach?"

"Never mind, just listen. You're pointing. You're telling the defense which way you are going to go by - - - - "

"I never said a word. Honestly, I didn't. Just ask Joe."

"I know you didn't say anything. I didn't say you did, but you are leaning in the direction you are going to go. They can tell if you're going to go this way because you lean this way before you start. They can tell if you're going to run a reverse because you lean that way."

"Boy, they're a lot smarter than I am!"

"You can say that again. Never mind. Just stand the same way every time, and they will never be able to tell." And then, he added for the whole team to hear, "Sometimes a good player will fool you by pointing one way and running another."

Practice resumed and a few plays were run without incident. When Dickie called for a reverse, the team took their positions.

"HOLD IT!" shouted Coach Andrews. Smitty was not in his stance. He was standing straight up and pointing with his arm and forefinger toward the right sidelines. "What do you think you are doing now?"

Smitty said in a very confident tone, "Well, I'm pointin' this way, but I'm gonna fool 'em. I'm gonna go that way."

For the first home game of the season a big assembly was planned. The band played and the cheerleaders led the student body in several enthusiastic cheers for Foxville.

Mr. Hammond, the principal, gave a speech in which he told of the high hopes people held for the "Foxes". He didn't sound as though he believed what he was saying when he told them what a fine coach and team they had.

After the other speakers had finished, Mr. Andrews was called on to introduce the team. The applause for him was noticeably less than the cheers for the principal. "That was quite natural," thought Mr. Andrews, but he wasn't prepared for the boos which greeted him. "Had the student body become angry with him too?"

The coach gave a short talk telling how he expected his players to give a good account of themselves. "With a little luck to go with our ability, we could win the conference championship this year."

Introduction of the players was also a traditional part of this assembly. Mr. Andrews named each of the starters as they walked up to the stage amid cheers and applause.

Captain Cain gave the last speech of the program. "I think we've got a real good bunch of fellows out this year. They've all been workin' real hard in practice. We're gonna do our best out there tonight and we need you all out there to cheer for us. That helps us a lot. I think we're gonna win tonight."

Genuine cheers and applause answered Wayne's little talk. The boys filed from the stage back to their seats.

"That speech wouldn't rate a very good grade in English class, but it certainly went well with the student body," thought Mr. Andrews to himself. "And the best part of it is the fact that it is true. He believes every word of what he said."

"Whitetown certainly must have scouted us last week," Coach Andrews told his team just before they took the field for the game, so here's what we will do. We'll keep all of our new plays until the second half. That way they won't have the halftime to figure out a defense for us. In the first half we use the old plays we used last week. All straight "T" formation plays. Smitty, did you get that?"

"Yeah, Coach, I gotcha."

"O.K., then we'll have plenty of surprises for them. Defense, you have to be tough tonight. Those kids scored 34 points last week."

"Don't worry, Coach," put in Ken Whisk, "They'll be lucky to SEE the goal line tonight."

The first half was a good contest, evenly fought all the way. The halftime score, however, once again had the opponents leading 6-0. Both teams had put together long marches; but the "Foxes" were not able to score from the 12 yard line, their deepest penetration. The "Vikings" ended their march with a pass play from 16 yards out.

"Now it's our turn, Gang." Coach Andrews said at halftime. We have found how they play. We know our open plays will work. Are there any questions?"

"Smitty, do you know what to do?"

"I'll do my best, Coach."

"I guess that's all we can ask - - but no mistakes." The coach then said, "We have a few minutes before it's time to go. Rest up for a couple of minutes and when you're ready to take the champs come on out." Having said this Andrews left the boys in the dressing room and walked out.

Cain was on his feet as soon as the door was closed. This time what he had to say was much more spirited and dramatic. "Do you guys realize we haven't been ahead all year? Well, I'm getting' pretty tired of this stuff. I'd like to win one of these games. You backs better get us some scores. We'll do our part. We'll hold 'em, and we'll get some holes for you. These new plays ain't no good unless you do 'em right. We can't win the championship unless we get some touchdowns.

"Understand?" he said standing over Smitty who nodded that he understood.

"Understand?" he asked of Schultz, Blaine and Fry in turn. His words had a favorable effect on the team. The backs felt responsible for other losses and were determined to do better. The lineman felt that they had given the promise themselves. When the official signaled time to go out for the second half, the team was ready. They charged out like wild animals would leave a cage.

It took the "Foxes" three plays to get the ball back from the "Vikings" who had received the kickoff to start the second half. When Whitetown punted, Torkle returned the punt to the middle of the field and the "Foxes" were ready to go to work.

The first play surprised the visitors when Smitty took his position outside of the end. They were even more surprised when Smitty cut down the end and Fry scampered for fifteen yards. The same play was equally effective the second time, this time for another twelve yards.

Dick remembered the coach's philosophy, "when a play goes well, run it until they prove they can stop it." He called for the same play for a third time and gained eight more yards with it.

The ball rested on the 15 yard line. Over it stood the referee who waited for the down marker to change and then called out, "Second and two." It was doubtful whether anyone heard him though.

On the visitor's side went up a frantic cheer, "Hold that line - - Hold that line."

The hometown fans were equally loud with their cheers "We want a touchdown - - We want a touchdown!"

Coach Andrews wondered if Dick was going to keep running the same play. "Les, Les Larson," he called to the nearest man on the bench who happened to be the second team tackle. "Go in there and tell Dick to try the slant pass from the same formation."

Les quickly buckled his helmet and ran out to the huddle. He went straight to Dick, and when Tiny Small saw Les, he headed toward the sideline on the run. Les surprised everyone, however. After delivering his message to the quarterback he jogged back toward the bench, too.

"Time out," called Dick in disgust as he saw Les leave the field. Trotting toward the coach he said, "Who's gonna play tackle?"

Coach sent Tiny back into the game. Then turned to Les and asked, "What's the matter, don't you want to play?"

"Play?" asked the dumbfounded tackle. "You just said to tell Dick what to call. You didn't say I should play."

"This break gives us more time to get the play straight," Dick said, back in the huddle. "Smitty, now get this. Slant pass on two. Smitty you line up the same as before but go past the end. I'll pass to you over the center."

"O.K. I'll be there," said Smitty.

He was there, as he said he would be. The defense saw the same formation and the backs called to their team to watch out for the sweep play. After the ball was hiked and the defensive backfield saw Smitty move toward the end, they rushed up quickly to get in on the tackle.

Smitty caught the pass and was over the goal line before the defense realized the change in plays. The score was tied at 6-6 with a chance for the "Foxes" to take the lead.

Stan Klingmeier came in to try for the point after touchdown. Stan was a junior, second string end who had been groomed as a placekicker since Tim left the team. This was to be his first attempt in a game. Guts hadn't mastered the long snap, so he traded places with Don Luke for the attempt.

"It was just as easy as in practice." thought Stan as he trotted back to the bench after making a beautiful kick.

The stands erupted with cheers for the hometown boys who now led the champs by a score of 7-6. The band pounded out the school song. Cheerleaders jumped up and down hugging one another. Stan was greeted by the boys on the bench as he joined them again. No one was happier than the boys themselves, though they were more reserved in their actions. The "Foxes" finally were leading in a ball game.

Shock gripped the "Vikings" enough that they were unable to get their offense rolling again. They tried three plays and were forced to punt again.

Dick had talked to the coach and now was ready with a variety of plays from both the old and new formations. All of the plays did better now. The march toward the goal line saw the team pile up four first downs in a row.

From the 40 yard line a reverse surprised all but the safety who dropped Fry on the 22 yard line.

Dick called a "sweep right", and Fry gained another 6 yards.

"Time for another surprise," coach told the bench as he sent Russ Bikes into the game for Smitty.

"Halfback pass right," Bikes told Schultz who repeated it in the huddle.

"Right in the corner," Bikes said to Fry.

The play looked like another sweep as they lined up, but the defense was fooled once before and were now slow to react. Watching the set man gave the defensive back his signal to act. When he saw Bikes block the end, the defensive back was certain it would be a running play, so he moved up quickly. Bikes had only brushed the end, however, and was running out for a pass. Gene ran toward the sidelines trying to turn up field. This brought the would-be-tacklers to him. Then he stopped and threw an easy pass to Bikes who caught it and stepped into the end zone for another touchdown.

With the score 13-6 in favor of the home team, the bank of fans went wild yelling themselves hoarse for their team. Fans in cars around the field added their car horns to the noise which could be heard for blocks.

Stan confidently jogged out to do the kicking again. This time he topped the ball slightly and it fell short of the crossbar. Even without the extra point the "Foxes" received a standing cheer from their fans as they returned up field.

Whitetown had the ball as the teams changed goals to begin the last quarter. Again they were stopped by the stubborn Foxville team and forced to give up the ball without gaining a first down.

Dick Schultz was calling a successful game, marching his team down the field toward the opponent's goal line again. Just after they had crossed the midfield stripe, Dick called for a reverse. He faked a handoff to Blaine, then Fry, and then - - but where was Smitty? Dick stood there momentarily looking for the halfback who was supposed to get the ball, but was nowhere in sight.

There was not much he could do after the play went wrong except to carry the ball and gain whatever he could. Trying to get to the sideline and around traffic, Dick was hit by a big tackle and a fast halfback at the same time. The ball squirted out of his hands as he hit the ground, but it went out of bounds.

"At least we still have the ball," coach said to himself. Then he yelled, "Smitty," He probably would have said more but he was stopped short at the sight of his quarterback rolling on the ground obviously in great pain.

Pain went through Dick's leg as Mr. Andrews touched it. The coach knew his signal caller was through for the night. After making him lie still Mr. Miller and the managers, with the help of some players, moved him carefully to a stretcher and then to the sidelines.

"Is there a doctor in the stands?" asked the P.A. announcer. No one appeared to help Dick but his father, realizing that it must be serious from the pain his son suffered, took charge of getting him to the hospital. Several men loaded the stretcher into the back of a station wagon for the short ride.

Meanwhile, Mr. Andrews sent in another fullback and moved Blaine to quarterback.

That was all the scoring that was done that evening. The new combination didn't work very effectively, and the "Foxes" were kept from scoring again. The defense was equal to the task and they prevented the visitors from scoring too. The game ended with the Foxville team leading 13-6. The best part of it all was that they had whipped the team which had been picked to win the conference championship.

Meanwhile in the hospital Dick received a lot of attention. His football pants were cut off and his leg was examined. It only took a few moments for the doctor to reach his decision.

"It is probably broken. We'll keep him here overnight, and then take some x-rays tomorrow," said the doctor. "Sorry, son, I guess you won't be playing anymore this year."

Mr. Andrews had waited long enough to congratulate his team members and to share part of the celebration. The victory was not only the first for the "Foxes" but marked the end of a 12 game winning streak for Whitetown. When he left the dressing room Coach Andrews headed straight for the hospital to see how Dick was doing.

"How'd we do, Coach?" asked Dick when Mr. Andrews entered his room.

"How are you, Dick?" asked the coach at the same time.

Both laughed briefly and awkwardly and then gave their news.

"Oh, we won," the coach bragged. "You didn't think the boys would let this one get away, did you? Now, how about you? What did the doctor say?"

"Probably broken," said Dick, again taking on a pained look. "I'll bet it's broken in a dozen places by the way it hurts."

CHAPTER 7

Another Surprise

"I think the trouble is that you pamper your backs too much." Mr. Andrews was being needled by his assistant. "Now, if I was coaching those backs, I'd make them work like the line does. Then they wouldn't get hurt."

The coaches had been watching the film of the game and had stopped at the place where Dick had been injured.

Coach had called the doctor at noon Saturday. The report was not good. "It's in a cast already," the doctor told him. "Three breaks about six inches above the ankle, both bones snapped. We're lucky they didn't need traction. Clean breaks, they should heal all right."

"That's no help to us this year," the coach said.

"Unless you want to use him as he is, they can't hurt it any more, now," teased the doctor.

"He'll be all right, won't he?"

"Oh, I think he'll be as good as new next year."

"Thanks, doctor."

"Next year," repeated the coach as he relayed the news to his football co-worker, "but where does that leave us now?"

Joe Blaine would be moved to the quarterback position. Torkle would now be the relief quarterback. Maybe he would be moved in to take the first team job but Blaine would get first chance to prove his worth.

Jerry Kenowski would play fullback and, if needed, Bikes could also play that position.

"That takes care of all but halfback," said Andrews. "Our weakest spot is still the unpredictable Smitty. I wish we could find someone to put in his place."

"How about trying Tony?" asked Mr. Miller. "Coach Williams is very high on him, you know. He did very well in the 'B' game last week."

"I've talked to Coach Williams about him. He thinks he is ready. I wonder how he would fit in with the seniors. Perhaps he would make Smitty work harder." These were the thoughtful comments of the coach.

"Oh, I think the others would accept him," added Mr. Miller, especially if he could remember what to do. Those kids aren't dumb. They know what Smitty is doing to them."

Thus, it was decided by the coaches to give Tony a chance with the varsity.

Tony Roanowski was a sophomore. Last year he had tried out for football but since he weighed only 130 pounds, no one took him seriously. He remained out for the season but didn't get into a game. As Mr. Andrews recalled the previous season, he couldn't even remember the boy playing in a scrimmage.

This year he wasn't much heavier or taller, but he was back to try again. He would have been dropped from the squad early, except for the fact that he had done so well in track last spring that they decided to give him a tryout.

In the one "B" squad game he had played, he looked great. He couldn't do much more than run, but he could certainly do that well when he found running room.

Tony was the son of a factory worker who had recently moved to Foxville from a tough section of another city. His life had been rough. The effect was to harden the little boy both physically and mentally. He was a rough little scrapper with muscles hard as nails.

When he came out to practice with the varsity, the larger and older boys began teasing him about his size. He did look little when Tiny Small and Ken Whisk caught him between them. Most of the boys thought this must be some sort of a joke the coach was pulling on them.

Guts, who hadn't seen the little boy before, asked Cain, "Where did that kid come from? Is he the new mascot or is he gonna play with this outfit?"

Cain remembered the early season drills when Tony worked out with the varsity and – thinking of his own lack of size – decided to have some fun with the center. He told Guts that this boy won the conference 100 yard dash championship last year. He told how he could pivot, dodge, sidestep and even flip over a would-be-tackler.

"Is he really that good?" asked Guts of Whisk, who had joined Cain and Guts by this time.

"Oh yeah, one time I tried to tackle him, and he ran right between my legs. He's a great football player for his size," added Whisk.

Guts didn't quite swallow all that he had heard, but when he saw Tony lead the whole team in their laps, he started to wonder about the other things they told him, too.

Tony gave the coaches reason to smile in the drills they held that evening. Coach called it "Burma Road" because he said it's rough on everyone in it. Five linemen stood in a line about ten yards behind each other. The backs tried to run through the tacklers one at a time.

In the drill Tony demonstrated his open field running ability. He showed the big boys how well he could side step them when they tried to tackle him. His stiff-arm was almost comical but quite successful. When he put out his hand, he hardly moved the bigger boy, but he used his arm like a pole vaulter uses a pole. Of course, he was not as good as Cain had told Guts, but he did impress the teammates.

After a good introduction to Tony by way of the drill, the team was divided up for more individual practice. The line worked on the sled and dummies, while the backs began again from the beginning with two new backfield members.

The eagerness to learn was very helpful to the new men in the lineup. They spent most of Monday's practice time re-learning the plays and introducing Tony to the wing or slot formation. Work on timing of plays required going over and over the same plays time after time.

When the team split up for practice Tuesday evening, Coach Andrews told his backs, "I think your timing was good enough for us to go to the next part of the series. We would like to use part of it this week against Wilton. If it works, then next week we can add some more for our game at Doorland.

"In this formation we 'set' both wing halfbacks. This will make the defense spread out to cover us. We can pass from this formation and have four receivers out quickly.

"This is mainly for our running plays, though. We want to get a man-in-motion so we'll line up this way and put either halfback in motion. We snap the ball when the moving man gets back to his regular position; then, we are ready to run any of our regular plays. The best play from this formation will be our sweep. The 'fly-man', as we sometimes call him, is already running when he gets the ball so he has a running start on the defense. All he has to do, then, is turn on the steam."

For the next half hour the backs practiced this formation and the plays they could run from it. Tony worked well with the others, but Smitty had trouble with his timing. In two days Tony already looked better than Smitty did.

Later in the practice the line was called back to join the rest of the team. Before working together, the backs ran through the new plays to show the lineman what was happening behind them. Tony "set" a yard back and a yard outside of the end. On the count, he turned and ran into the backfield.

"This is our fly man," explained the coach, "See how he starts before the ball is centered, so when he gets the ball, he is already on the run. This gives him a running start on the opponent."

"Did you say he was a fly man?" asked Ken Whisk.

"He looks more like a flea man," answered Tiny Small.

"That's what he is. A flea flicker," said Captain Cain.

Thus whatever it meant, or wherever it came from, the man-in-motion was called the "flea-flicker" from then on. Coach Andrews tried to be proper and call it the "man-in-motion from the double-winged-T", but soon even he was calling it the "Flea-flicker".

In a scrimmage against the second team, the play worked very well. If practice was any indication of what one could expect on Friday, Wilton would have their hands full with that play.

Wilton Junction was only ten miles from Foxville. The school was located in the town, but most of their students came from the surrounding country. Wilton Union High School District brought students from about fifteen small grade schools in the area.

Unfortunately for their football record, few of the boys could stay after school to practice; the rest had farm chores to do. Most of those who did turn out to play football had never played before.

They had a good coach who managed to field a team which usually had a good line but weak backfield. Their record over the last three years was poor in the win-loss column. This year looked like it would be another bad season for them. They had already lost three games, and lost them all by lopsided scores.

When the Wilton "Wildcats" came out of their dressing room to do their warm-up drills, they certainly did not look as though they expected to lose this game. They showed a lot of spirit in their pre-game drills. Their coach had been building them up by telling them of the troubles the "Foxes" had had rebuilding their backfield. He was certain that the Foxville team couldn't find a third quarterback.

Wilton, the league's smallest school, probably had the most loyal fans. The students followed their team in large numbers. When the game began, the visitor's side seemed to have as many spectators as the hometown side had.

The visiting fans didn't have long to wait before they found reason to cheer. On the opening kick-off the "Wildcats" surprised the "Foxes" with a deceptive play never expected from them.

Wilton's deep back took the ball just ahead of the ten yard line, near to the right sideline. He immediately ran toward the opposite sideline. The defense began to swing over to the left side to catch him. His own teammate, defending the left sideline, ran toward the ball carrier. When the two Wilton backs passed each other, the ball carrier slipped the ball to the other back but kept running toward the sideline where he turned to go toward the goal line. It was then that the Foxville team swarmed all over him.

Meanwhile, his teammate who had the ball had run to the other sideline. Jay Roberts, the defensive end, was so completely fooled that he sidestepped the man with the ball because he thought he was a blocker. (At least that was the excuse he gave later.)

When Roberts missed the man with the ball, there was no one else in his way. The rest of the "Foxes" had been fooled, too, so the ball carrier rambled all the way to the goal line. The visitors were now leading and their fans made the most of their chance to cheer for their team. With a successful point after touchdown kick, the scoreboard showed "Visitors 7 – Foxville 0".

Tony did not start the game. This was his first game, and the coach told him to watch for the first few series of plays. Joe was putting his team through their paces on the field trying to find some weaknesses in the defense. Coach had told him to hold the man-in-motion plays until the second half, but the other plays were working well.

Late in the first quarter with the score unchanged, Coach Andres sent Tony into the game. Tony anxiously put on his helmet and started onto the field to join the team. About 20 feet from the sideline, Tony thought he heard someone call his name. Without stopping, he turned his head to see who called. His legs became entangled and Tony went headlong into the grass.

An embarrassed, little football player picked himself up from the ground, made an attempt to brush the dirt from his white uniform and then joined his teammates. Laughter was heard from both sides of the field. Not only for the nose dive, but when he did join his team he looked so small. He looked like a runt standing next to the larger boys in the huddle.

Once on the field, Tony gave a good account of himself. He carried the ball several times on the drive to the first touchdown for the "Foxes". The rest of the team seemed to put a little extra effort into their blocks for Tony. His size gave him another advantage; he was so short he could run behind the line and hardly be detected by the defense.

Climaxing the drive toward their first touchdown, the "Foxes" opened a good hole between Tiny Small and Don Lake. From the sixteen yard line, Tony popped through the opening, sidestepped one tackler, and pivoted past another with his stiff arm vault to free himself; then, running the few remaining yards, he scored a touchdown.

A big smile covered his face as Tony left the field to take his place back on the bench. He had scored the touchdown; but more than that he had turned the derisive laughter at him to cheering for him. Even the opponents gave a polite clap for the little boy who looked so small but did so well.

Stan Klingmeier went on the field to do the place kicking. For all the good he did, he might as well have stayed on the bench. Joe fumbled the snap from center. Stan stood in his tracks waiting for a chance to kick the ball. Joe tried to pick it up but couldn't even do that as the defenders piled on him.

The scoreboard still showed that the "Wildcats" led by a score of 7 to 6 when the whistle sounded ending the first half.

After checking his team for injuries, Coach Andrews went over defensive and offensive problems with the individual players. Then to the whole team he said, "This half we'll use the 'double-winged-T with the man-in-motion' ". He turned toward Cain and said, "That's the 'Flea Flicker' ".

"Good," replied Cain, "that'll fool 'em good. They need a good surprise to get even."

"They certainly fooled you on that kickoff," responded the coach.

"Coach, I still can't see how he got that ball. I thought he was going to block me so I got out of his way. I never did see the ball," Jay explained.

"You weren't the only one fooled on that play. Don't let them pull it on you again, though. Remember the old saying, "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me!"

"What does that mean?" asked Smitty.

"It just means don't be a sucker twice on the same trick.

"I don't think I will," boasted Jay. "I'll knock him down if he's got the ball or not."

"Run the end sweeps from the 'Flea Flicker', Joe," instructed the coach. "With their cornerbacks inside the end that play should go often. Call them at least on every third play. That play must work well before we try the next part of the series."

In the third quarter the "Foxes" enjoyed their best period of the young season. With the tight line and packed defense, Wilton was not able to slow down the outside plays for Foxville. When they changed the defense to cover the sweeps, Joe called some plays through the line for sizeable gains.

It only took four plays to score the first touchdown. Joe called a sweep left, then one to the right and followed with another to the right. The climax of the series was a 30 yard run on a left end sweep by Tony for the second score. The wingback knocked down the end. The guard, fullback and quarterback all led the blocking for the ball carrier. Tony ran like a frightened rabbit but there was no one chasing him. He was in the open and heading for his second touchdown of the game.

When he crossed the goal line, he handed the ball to the ref and headed toward his bench. His job was done for that series. Stan Klingmeier came in to replace him and try to add the extra point. This time the attempt was successful and the "Foxes" took the lead 13 to 7.

Wilton tried their hand-off on the kickoff play again but without success, as both backs were dumped. The "Wildcats" had not yet been tamed. When they started to move, they made three first downs before giving up the ball.

Guts hit one of the backs so hard that he fumbled the ball. When Tony came into the game, Guts met him saying, "There you are Kid. We got you the ball. See if you know what to do with it."

"Just gimme the ball, I'll show ya," replied Tony.

Tony proved his word two plays later. Joe called for a reverse. On this play the fullback faked into the line. Then the halfback faked an off-tackle drive to the right. Finally, Joe gave the ball to Tony who went laterally behind the line to the left. He was small to begin with, and when he ran hunched over the ball, it was extremely difficult for the defense to see him.

The fakes were carried out well and the defense played to stop them; all of the defensive men, that is, except the end that played his position properly and waited for a possible reverse. But even he had "buck fever" when he realized that the little fellow coming toward him had the ball.

When Tony saw the end waiting, he put his right foot toward the line, nodding his head in that direction, also. The fake worked well; the end thought Tony was going to cut in, so he moved to stop him. Instead Tony cut to the outside sidestepping the end. Safely past the end, there was no one left to stop him as he scampered almost 60 yards for his third touchdown.

The Foxville fans went wild showing their approval of the new back. Visiting fans, who were tickled to see the little fellow score his first touchdown, now were sickened by his third. It ceased to be funny when their team was humbled by such a little boy.

Stan, once again, split the uprights with his kick, putting the home team into a commanding lead of 20 to 7.

Tony didn't go back into the game when the "Foxes" took the ball again. Smitty went back to his old position and played it for the remainder of the game.

This act by the coach was logical from his viewpoint; he wanted to keep the score down and also give Smitty an opportunity to try the man-in-motion plays. The crowd didn't like the idea of Tony on the sidelines. They had waited years for a chance to pour it on to some team and didn't want to be held back.

"We want Tony - - we want Tony - - we want Tony," chanted the fans in the stands.

"Can I go in, Coach?" asked the little back.

"Not now," said the coach, a little irritated.

The rest of the game was played in Wilton territory. The punch seemed to be gone as Coach Andrews substituted freely to give some of the other boys an opportunity to play. Foxville's team was near the goal line twice but couldn't push it in.

"We want Tony - - we want Tony," again chanted the fans, trying to tell the coach to put him in again. Though they weren't talking to him directly, Coach Andrews heard the chant. It angered him because he felt the other boys were entitled to play too.

"Tony," called the coach.

"Yeah, Coach," said the back running to Mr. Andrews' side. The fans changed their chant to cheers anticipating his re-entry into the game. "You want me to go in now?"

"No, not into the game, maybe you had better go up to the people in the stands. They want you," Andrews said.

"Are ya kiddin' me?" asked Tony.

When the whistle ended the game, the "Wildcat" coach walked across the field to congratulate Mr. Andrews.

"Nice game your kids played," the Wilton coach started. "Say, where did you get that little halfback? He really surprised us."

He surprised us too." Mr. Andrews replied. "You don't know how much of a surprise he was."
CHAPTER 8

PUT OUT THE FIRE

Everyone loves a winner! Foxville was certainly no exception. The school spirit always rose after a football victory. This week, however, the school had not only won a ball game but had found a new hero. The previously unknown sophomore had not only brought the team to life but he had done a lot for the school spirit.

The element of surprise played an important part in his success story. The fans naturally expected a lot from their big seniors, but they didn't expect sophomores even to make the team. Now, the hero of the team was the little fellow no one knew.

The big question in school was, "who is Tony?" A few of his classmates proudly pointed him out to the upperclassmen, who, in turn, took pride in pointing him out to others. Tony suddenly found that he had many new friends, or at least people who wanted to make his acquaintance.

Mr. Roanowski, who had very little interest in the game of football, had not even gone to the game. His interest rose a great deal when his friends began telling him what a great football player his son was. It was a little difficult for Mr. Roanowski to understand all of the talk about the game. Terms like "back," "reverse," "sweeps," and "passes" had other meanings to him.

To his older sister, who was a member of the senior class, he was still a pest of a kid brother. When she talked to the others in her classes at school, however, she bragged at length about his great feats on the field. This, of course, caused her popularity to increase. Since she was a typical teenage girl, she did what she could to help her popularity.

The newspaper had propelled the boy to headline fame by their banner "TONY WINS 20-7." In the story which followed, the paper called him the "Mighty-Mite." They wrote about little else than the new star and his achievements. No one blamed the paper for playing up the David and Goliath type story. The fact was that most of the readers were thinking the same way as the local paper.

A few people were not happy about the publicity, however. Tony was one of these. He was quiet, bashful and reserve. The change was so great and so sudden that Tony hardly knew how to react.

Tony's mother had read the story in the paper. When Tony asked her what she thought about it, she told him, "You must be good! The paper said that you won the game. Work hard, Tony. Someday, maybe you'll be a great football player and make lots of money."

"Hey, kid," asked Guts of Tony at practice Monday, "who writes those stories for the paper, your brother?"

Tony was still trying to find his way with the older boys, so his answer was only a mild grunt, "Nah."

Most of the team was listening and laughing about this time. Several comments were heard such as, "Here comes the Mighty Mite" and "So you won the game. What were we doing?"

"Did you guys read what the paper called the new formation," asked Augie Bent of the group. Then he answered his own question, "They called it a "Cockeyed-T with an unbalanced coach." Once again, the locker room shook with laughter.

Some of the team members did not think it a laughing matter. One of these was Captain Cain. When the initial laughter died, he said, "Remember gang, we're a team or we're nothin'. The reporter just forgot to look when we were on defense. I don't think he saw us guys in the line, either. But we know our team is more than one guy."

Coach Andrews thought much the same as his captain. In his "Sermon on the Mound", he told his team, "I felt that last week you fellows had a real team effort. The films will bear me out. The line played a very fine game against that big Wilton line. Joe did well in his first game at quarterback. And, of course, we were all surprised when Tony did so well.

"Let's remember, though," he added, "that Wilton wasn't much of a test. They lost every game this year and some by bigger margins than ours. What I'm saying is this: we haven't won the championship yet. We have a chance, but we can't let up."

"One more thing," added Coach Andrews thoughtfully. "I guess you know that you looked pretty bad the way you were fooled on that kickoff. Some of you did not do what you were supposed to do. You forgot to think. I know you are tough but football is more than just brawn. It has to be brains too. It takes brains to win games."

"That rhymes, Coach," put in Augie Bent.

"What does?" asked Andrews.

"Brains wins games," said Augie.

"I'm glad you recognized that. It shows that you were listening at least. Can you remember that?" said the coach. "It takes brains to win games. Give me a team of boys who will think! Give me a team of smart boys and I'll beat the biggest and fastest team of non-thinkers you can find."

"I bet we could beat a team of Einsteins," chided Ken Whisk.

"Alright, I suppose you could. But, you won't beat Doorland unless we get to work. Line with Mr. Miller, backs with me, let's go!"

After the line had gone to the opposite corner of the field to work on blocking and tackling drills, Mr. Andrews said, "All right, boys, let's go through the plays. We have some bugs to work out."

"Who - - who's got bugs, Coach?" asked Smitty.

"The plays," answered the coach, "we saw some mistakes when we watched the film of the game. We must correct them. Is that better, Smitty?"

"Yeah! Ya had me worried."

Most of the conference coaches had more than the usual interest in their games with Doorland Township High School. It was one of the oldest schools in the league, and one of the largest.

In addition, Doorland had the "old man" of the league coaches. Mike Murphy, a stubborn Irishman, bragged of more football championships than any other school in the "Little Eight Conference".

His coaching career spanned 32 years. In all of those years, he hadn't changed a thing. He had played quarterback on his college football team. The single-wing formation with an unbalanced line worked well for his college team, so he used it with the first team he coached and he still used it.

"Football is blocking and tackling," he often explained. "We teach fundamentals, not a lot of fancy stuff. We'll take three or four yards at a time and win nine out of ten games doing it. Why should I change," he would say, "I've got the best record in the league."

The other coaches knew that what Murphy said was true, but each time he reminded them of his strategy, he did it in such a manner that they felt quite inferior. Thus, each of the coaches tried to plan something special for his game with the Doorland team. Even so, the big school which taught solid, fundamental football won most of their games and always ended at or near the top in the league standings.

This year Doorland had lost one game to Elm Lane by a 6-0 score. This came in the rain the same night Foxville lost to the Ellison "Chiefs". They bounced back the next week and were once again on the winning road. They didn't expect to lose to the "Foxes".

The game this week would be especially tough because it was to be played on the Doorland field where they had a partisan, hometown crowd to help them. Added to this, was the fact that this game was to be part of their homecoming celebration. The "Bulldogs" would be "up" to win this game.

"I have saved a special play for this game," explained the coach to his backfield, "and if it works correctly we should be able to get around both ends of the big Doorland line.

"Here it is," said Mr. Andrews holding up a big card for all the backs to see. "We have to run this from our 'cockeyed-T with an unbalanced coach' as the paper called it." This brought laughter from everyone, including Mr. Andrews.

The first card he held up was the sweep diagram. "All of you know what to do on this play. And last week you did it well. We will show them this one often because this next play starts like it but ends much differently," Mr. Andrews pulled out the second card and showed the new play to them.

"The play starts the same except for Tony, who stands in his tracks instead of blocking. When Gene goes past Tony, he slips Tony the ball and continues on his way. Tony, now with the ball, crosses behind the line and should go all the way. We must take care of the end, but I think Guts can handle him, any questions?"

Let's line up and try it a few times," Mr. Andrews suggested.

Some of the coach's optimism had rubbed off on the backs. They ran the play over and over again, practicing the moves and timing them.

When the line joined the backs again they were told to watch the new play. The play worked well and the linemen were surprised to see who finally came out with the ball.

"Do that again, will ya," begged Cain, who played cornerback on defense, but was fooled completely by the handoff.

"That's great," put in Guts after watching the second time. "I still didn't see how he got the ball though."

"Come around to this side and watch once," suggested Mr. Andrews because he wanted his line to know what was involved in the play.

After witnessing the re-running of the play the boys were anxious to try it out on live players. With his team lining up for the play Coach Andrews added, "We need a blocker to the rear side to make this play work. Guts, do you think you can do that?"

"Sure, Coach! What do I do?"

"After you snap the ball, you must block your own man. If you don't, you'll give it away. Then you will leave your man, pull out to the play side, and get the end or the back or whoever they send out to cover reverses."

"O.K., I can do that."

The play was run several times for coordination of the line and backfield moves. Then, the second team moved into their defensive positions to try to stop them. By mixing up sweeps and reverses, the first unit ran all over the second team.

When the short practice was over, everyone went away happy knowing that Doorland was in for a big surprise when the wide reverse was used.

Tuesday night, at practice, the team worked hard at their drills. The boys were ready to play the game then.

The Booster Club meeting was a much more pleasant time than it had been in past weeks. In fact, Mr. Andrews felt anxious to go there after a good win.

Again, Tony was the center of attention. People wanted to know where he had been and why he hadn't been used before. Jokingly, the coach said that he had been saving him for the big games. For the first time, no one mentioned the Brown twins, and Coach Andrews was relieved that they had been forgotten.

Some fans let their football spirit get away from them as they began asking about winning the championship and preparing for a celebration.

"That seems to be something in the distant future. We haven't won any championship yet." Mr. Andrews countered. "We play one game at a time, and this week we go to Doorland for a big one."

Doorland was celebrating their homecoming with a weeklong series of events. One of their main events was a big bonfire and pep rally held the evening before the game.

To build the fire, the high school students had been collecting firewood for weeks. On Wednesday evening part of the ceremony had been carried out as the sophomore class brought the flammable material to the school and piled it high on one corner of the practice field. Each year the builders tried to outdo the job done in previous years. This year the pile of brush, boxes, logs and kindling approached the size of a small mountain.

Some years before, the pile had been burned off prematurely. To prevent this from happening again, guards were posted to keep watch through the night. The three guards posted themselves around the pile of firewood in military fashion. They soon tired of this method and drifted together to talk.

Cars went back and forth on the street most of the night. It was not unusual for the autos to slow down so that the drivers could get a good look at the big pile of firewood. In their concern for their job, the guards did not notice that one car went past the pile several times.

The car was a grey convertible with four occupants who were planning trouble. After observing the guards and the grounds, the car sped away. The boys in the car plotted their attack.

Shortly after midnight two boys approached the pile from the school side. They did not approach quietly because they were hoping to draw the attention of the guards. They talked as they approached, and even flicked their cigarette lighters on and off as if to light their way.

"Who is it?" called one of the guards who sounded scared to death.

No answer came from the pair, but they did stop, pretending to be surprised by the call. When the guards saw the pair again begin to move toward the pile, they decided to go after them. After all, three boys with clubs against two boys without them should be advantage enough.

As the guards ran toward the decoys, they called and yelled. The pair waited until the guards were near them before they turned and fled.

The three guards paused, proud that they had beaten off the would-be attackers. When they turned back to their charge, they were horrified and raced back.

While the guards had been lured away from the pile, the other two fellows from the car had sneaked up to the pile of wood. They stuffed some gasoline soaked rags into the pile and lit them. By the time the guards returned, the fire was burning hopelessly beyond their ability to stop it.

One guard ran to phone for help, but before the volunteer fire department arrived, the whole pile was ablaze. Many townspeople, hearing the siren and seeing the blaze turned out to watch it burn. The dejected guards told the story of how they had driven off a threat, but they could only guess the rest of what happened.

All the way home to Foxville, the arsonists talked about the success of their mission. They all did their parts well. They couldn't help but laugh at the awkward position of the defenders. Then they began to think of the awkward position they would be in if they were caught.

"Wouldn't it be funny if we could blame it on one of the guys on the team, now?" said one.

"How could we do that?" Those goody-goody guys have probably been in bed for hours," said another.

"Hey, look! There's Charles Wise's car, and the whole family is in it," said one of the boys excitedly when they passed a car on the road.

"So what," said one of the others?

"That's Gutsburg's uncle. I'll bet Guts is home alone tonight. We could blame it on him. He wouldn't have an alibi, and with his record no one would believe him. Then he would get the boot, too," explained the first boy.

"Yeah, Andrews would have to boot him, too."

"Good idea," added another.

Rumors were around the school early Thursday morning. Most of the students had heard that Guts had started the fire in Doorland before they had heard officially that there had been a fire. Rumors are usually accepted as truth. There were very few who doubted either.

A call from the Doorland principal confirmed that there had, indeed, been a fire last night about midnight. Of course, Foxville students or fans were the chief suspects.

Rumors have a way of arriving at the ears of those for whom they are intended. When Mr. Hammond, the principal, heard the rumor he called Dean into his office. Guts was surprised to hear the summons to the office, for he had not heard the rumor, nor did he know of any reason for the call.

After a few pleasantries about football to put Guts at ease, the principal asked, "Where were you last night about midnight?"

"I was home in bed."

"Can you prove it?"

"Sure I can, why?"

"Were you in Doorland last night?"

"No, I told ya I was home in bed last night."

"I heard that you were the one who started the fire in Doorland last night."

"What fire?" Guts was beginning to let his anger get the best of him. "I was home all last night, and I can prove - - -"just then he realized his predicament.

"Yes," said Mr. Hammond, "go on. Can you prove it or can't you?"

"I don't know," explained Guts. "Last night when the chores were done, my uncle and aunt went away for the evening. I don't know what time they got back.

"I'll call and find out," he said.

After calling the farm, the principal continued, "They didn't get home until almost one o'clock."

"Well, I was in bed long before that."

"If the fire started at midnight, you could easily have been home before one o'clock."

Dean sensed the seriousness of his situation and remained quiet.

"I think we had better talk to Mr. Andrews."

The principal explained the situation to the coach while Guts sat in the outer office.

"Mr. Hammond, this isn't right," replied Mr. Andrews. "You can't hang him on such flimsy evidence. You have no proof.

"He can't prove he didn't do it. It seems to be known by everyone else in school that he did do it. What more do you want?"

"That still isn't proof enough to turn him over to the police and have him charged with arson."

"I wasn't planning on that. But, you had better boot him off the team."

"I'd rather not. Not unless we can get more proof."

"Find proof then. It won't look good for you or the school if you put the Brown boys off but let him stay."

"But there was no question about the others. This time we have no evidence."

"I'm concerned about what the people of town will think. If we let Guts stay it will look like we're playing favorites."

"I don't care what the people of town think. I don't want to drop him unless we are certain - - "

"I'm certain enough. I say you will either drop Gutsberg or take the Brown twins back. You can just announce that he was caught breaking training rules."

"I won't tell anyone that. It's not true," said the coach in disgust as he left the office. He signaled Guts to follow him. Once in the hall he explained to the bewildered center what had happened. "We can't use you until this thing is cleared up."

Guts was overcome with mixed emotion. He had been in real trouble before and had learned to take his medicine. This time, however, he had done nothing wrong but was getting blamed for it anyway.

When the team members heard about it, they were very angry. They wanted to do something about it, but every thought they had proved unworkable.

"About all we can do," said Cain, "is to find the guys who did start the fire. Then we can clear Guts."

Adjustments were made, again, to fill in for Guts. Even though they had lost an important part of their team, they worked hard to prepare for the big game. By the end of practice they were ready for the Doorland "Bulldogs" once again.

The feelings of the team members were vented that evening. They let one and all know that they didn't like what had been done to Guts.

Tony told his family at supper that evening. "It's not right for the coach to kick him off. He's the best blocker and tackler on the team."

The locker room was unusually quiet as the team dressed for the game. The air of expectation seemed to be missing. Tonight, of all nights, the team would have to be at its best,

Rain had fallen steadily all Thursday night and all day Friday.

More rain was forecast for Friday night and Saturday as well. There had been some discussion about postponing the game, but Coach Murphy would not hear of it. He believed in playing football regardless of the weather. This was to be expected because his type of play would have an advantage over the open style used by Foxville.

Warm-up drills were done on the sidelines because the center of the field was already muddy. The game began with a kick from the hash mark which still had grass. The ball landed near the 30 yard line with a splash of mud. Blue and yellow uniformed "Bulldogs" landed on the ball, and blue and white "Foxes" landed on top of them. When they stood up, they were all brown with the mud covering them.

The game was hopelessly bogged down in a mire of mud. Yard markers were gone except for the numbers on the wooden markers beyond the sidelines. Spectators couldn't read the player's numbers and soon lost interest in the contest, laughing only at the mud splashers.

Plays were forgotten by both sides except for the straight ahead plays, and even they didn't work because blockers couldn't get a footing to block. On the first punt that was tried, the kicker slipped and landed on his back as his kicking foot went up into the air.

Each team tried a play or two and then tried to kick the ball to get rid of it. The only first down in the first half was on a fullback drive into the line. He fumbled the ball, and a teammate recovered for the first down.

Little could be done to improve the situation. Both teams seemed to be convinced that they couldn't score but tried their best to keep the other from scoring.

The interesting part for spectators was to see how quickly new uniforms were soiled. As a clean shirt came into the game, the players tried to be the first to drop him in the mud. Others splashed mud on him.

The game ended with the same score as when it began 0-0. Neither team had managed to get close to a touchdown. Three first downs were made - - maybe - - . The officials only guessed where the chains should be placed. When the clock showed that time had lapsed and the game was over, everyone - fans, players, coaches and officials – were happy it was over. The boys who had been pushing and shoving each other laughed together.

When the team boarded the bus Coach Andrews was there patting them on the back.

"It's a dirty shame, Coach," said Cain, "we couldn't do a thing in this weather."

"That's the way the ball bounces," said the coach spouting trite philosophy. "One week things work well. The next week nothing goes."

"What's the matter with you guys," asked Smitty dripping with gooey mud, we didn't lose, did we?"

"Well, we didn't win," said Cain, "when you're after the championship, a tie is as bad as a loss."

When they arrived at the Foxville High School, good news awaited them. The rain had caused an upset at Elm Lane. Wilton had scored an early touchdown and held off Elm Lane's efforts to score. Wilton had won 6-0.

"That leaves us only a half game behind Elm Lane", thought Cain out loud. "With luck, we can still win. We're not out of it yet!"
CHAPTER 9

HOMECOMING

Coach Andrews paced his office in bewilderment. It was past the time for Monday's practice to begin but only a few of the players were in the locker room. Mr. Miller sat in the office chair equally puzzled by the situation.

"What do you make of this, Russ?" asked the Coach. "Where can they be? All of the seniors are gone. Tony is gone. I don't get it."

"It beats me too," chipped in Mr. Miller, "It looks almost like a strike. I never heard of football players not showing up for a practice like this.

The coaches again went to the locker room. Those who were there either didn't know where the missing boys were; or if they did know, they weren't telling. Mr. Andrews went back to the confines of his office to await further developments. He called the school office to see if some teacher had kept the whole gang after school. The office girl checked the rooms, but the boys were not there.

It was almost a half hour after the time when the boys should have been on the field before the mystery was solved. Cain and about twenty other players burst through the door to the coach's office.

"This guy's got somethin' to tell ya, Coach," said the team captain.

Coach Andrews heard Cain, but he was looking at the stranger in the group. Tony had him by one arm and Augie had him by the other. Various other teammates had a hold of his belt or shirt to make certain he wouldn't get away.

"Out with it," barked Tony at the reluctant witness. "Tell him who done it!"

The odd member of the group was well known in and around Foxville High School. He was Ben Jones, a senior. Ben had been out for sports as a freshman and sophomore. Instead of going out for football as a junior, he had chosen to seek his popularity in other ways. He had a car and money for gas as part of his allowance.

Mrs. Jones, one of the town's top socialites, was quite happy when Ben gave up "those rough games." Since then, Ben had friends and plenty of them. There were always fellows and girls who enjoyed riding around, smoking and drinking; pretending to be big shots. This was the extracurricular life of Ben Jones.

Ben was a fair student in Mr. Miller's economics class.

"Listen, fellows," Ben pleaded, "I can't squeal on my friends."

"What's this all about?" asked Coach Andrews, finally.

"Guts didn't do it, Coach," blurted Tony. Then to the big boy next to him, Tony said, "Tell him, or I'll bust ya one."

Coach smiled at the fighting spirit of his halfback.

"That's right, Mr. Andrews, Gutsburg didn't start that fire last week. He wasn't even there." Ben said slowly.

"That's interesting. Tell me more."

"I did it. What more do I have to tell you?"

"You had better tell the whole story. We had to put Dean off the team because of that. Maybe it cost us that game last week and it may cost us the championship. I think these boys a better explanation."

"I'm not a squealer. I did it. I'll take the blame."

"Coach, if you step outside for just a minute, we'll get him to talk, won't we gang?" Augie Bent was speaking in very tough, belligerent tone. He sounded as if he would enjoy landing a few blows on Ben's nose while the others held him.

"Never mind Augie, I think he'll talk without that," said the coach. To Ben he said very sternly, "Ben, you're in serious trouble. You can make it easier on yourself if you tell us about it."

"O.K., I'll talk, but you'll hear from my dad. You'll lose your job doing things like this."

"Who was with you," barked Cain, cutting him short.

"Jonny French," Ben said naming a friend who was a graduate of Foxville and probably beyond the authority of school officials.

"Who else?" asked Tony. "There were four of you."

Ben looked at Tony. "How did you know that? Did someone tell?"

"Who were they?" asked Augie, twisting Ben's arm a little.

"Ouch! - - They were the Brown twins."

"Are you certain you are telling the truth, Ben?" asked Coach Andrews.

"Yes."

"All right fellows, you can let him go now." At that command the boys let go of Ben and his clothing. Ben straightened his clothes while coach continued. "Ben, I want you and the Brown boys to report to Mr. Hammond's office before you go to class in the morning. He'll probably want to see your parents, too. Unless I miss my guess, you fellows are due for a vacation."

Ben said, "Yes, sir!" and hurried out of the office, happy to be free again.

"Now, fellows you had better get ready for practice. I'm going to call Guts," said Mr. Andrews, reaching for the phone.

"You don't need to do that," grinned Cain. "I think he's in the locker room. At least I told him to stick around and watch practice tonight."

"All right, tell him to get dressed. He's on the team again. And you boys had better hurry up, too. We've already wasted half of our practice time."

The team dressed in record time and was out on the field ready to go almost as quickly as the coaches could walk to the practice field. No one took time to question the detectives until after practice.

When the short practice had been completed and the coach gave the signal to "take it in" Guts walked beside Cain and begged to know how he had found out about Jones being guilty.

"Well, Guts, when ya got a real detective on your side, you got nothin' to worry about," Cain joked.

"How DID you find out, Wane?" asked the coach who was following them, "I'm curious, too."

Cain stopped and began the story. Others of the team gathered around to hear the details. "Well, it was Tony who saved the day."

"You mean my sister," interrupted Tony.

"O.K." said Cain and then he unwound the story.

Tony's sister had gone to the game at Doorland with some friends of hers. While they were at the game, they had gone into the ladies' room to get out of the rain. There they met an acquaintance from Doorland and began to talk the usual "girl talk".

During the conversation one of the Doorland girls asked if the Foxville girls knew of a boy who had a grey convertible.

"No, why?"

"Last Wednesday night," the girl explained, "four boys who said they were from Foxville tried to pick them up. They wouldn't tell us who they were but they were tall and cute."

Saturday evening, at the dinner table, Tony's sister thought of the conversation. She asked Tony if he knew any Foxville boys who drove a grey convertible. Tony didn't know who it could be, but asked why she wanted to know. She repeated the story for him and then it was dropped.

In church the next day, Tony reviewed the story, trying to think who might be the boy with the convertible. Then the idea struck him. Wednesday was the night of the fire. Maybe the boys who started the fire were the same ones in the convertible.

In school Monday morning Tony explained his idea to Cain. Wayne didn't know who they would be either but he asked some of the other seniors. He also talked it over with Augie, Tiny and Ken Whisk. Tiny only knew of one grey convertible in town, the car belonging to Ben Jones' mother.

"Ben would be just the kind of a guy to do a thing like that," Cain said in his best Sherlock Holmes style. "So we decided to make him confess."

"You didn't have any more than that to go on?" asked Mr. Andrews.

"That was all, but it worked. I figured we would just scare him. Nothing lost if it didn't work," explained Cain.

"And boy was he scared," put in Augie.

"We met him on the corner, down a couple of blocks," Cain continued. "At first he wouldn't talk, but – a little persuadin' from us, and he admitted he was there, he had started the fire and Guts wasn't there. So we brought him here," he ended breathlessly.

"I always feel sorry for fellows like that. They have a twisted notion of what fun is. It usually gets someone into trouble," the coach philosophized. "But, it's good to have Guts back, isn't it, Tony?"

"Right, Coach. You just watch us cut down that Lowrey team, now."

Smitty had missed practice on Monday. Coach Andrews asked the boys where he was but no one knew. He had been with them when they brought Ben Jones to the office, but he had disappeared after that. It seemed odd that Smitty would miss practice because he really enjoyed playing football and had never missed practice before.

Tuesday morning Coach Andrews saw Smitty in the hall and asked him for an explanation.

"Sure I can explain, but you'll probably laugh at me."

"I'll try to understand. What happened?"

"Well - - I didn't come out 'cause I can't use my helmet."

"Why not? Where is it?"

"I have it, it's just that - - I dried it out."

"That sounds like a good idea. It was probably wet after the game last Friday."

"I thought so, too. I took it home and my mom washed the mud out of it."

"But why can't you use it?" asked the coach trying to get to the bottom of the story.

"Well - - I put it in the oven to dry. And I forgot it. It was in at least an hour," Smitty painfully explained.

"What does it look like now?"

"Flat as a pancake."

"Bring it in. I'll give you another one tonight," said Mr. Andrews. Leaving the player, the coach wondered if there were other Smittys out there. If not, he wasn't surprised. "How could one player do all the foolish things he had done?" he thought to himself.

When Smitty brought the helmet into the office, both coaches burst out laughing. An expensive piece of equipment destroyed is really no laughing matter, but the odd shape of the headpiece was funny.

Smitty was given another helmet and told to get dressed for practice. Mr. Andrews held up the flattened plastic for a better look. One side was completely flat from lying on a pan. The other was slightly raised because of the leather inside.

Mr. Andrews took a felt marking pen and wrote on it one word: "Smitty". Then he hung it on a nail where a trophy plaque had once hung. It still hangs on the hook as a reminder of the one and only Smitty. If you were to visit the office Mr. Andrews would probably explain "I have this as proof because no one would ever believe what he did."

"Can we win the game Friday?" asked one of the fans at the booster club meeting.

"We certainly can. I don't believe in playing a game we can't win. I expect to win them all," answered the coach. "Lowry is one of the big schools of the league. They have a solid team and a good coach, but I think we'll win.

"Our defense is proving to be very good. Some of you probably don't watch the defense much, but our defensive team is doing very fine work. If our backs get a chance to run, we should be in good shape."

The Lowry High School team was the opposition for Foxville's homecoming game. The game was a part of the celebration beginning with a parade on Thursday evening. The parade would end at the school where a pep rally around a bonfire would be held. A homecoming dance was planned for Friday night after the ball game.

"Don't forget, fellows," cautioned Mr. Andrews in his "sermon on the mound" Wednesday. "The ball game is the main part of Homecoming week. Sometimes players forget that and get themselves all tangled up with floats or decorating for the dance. Then, they end up losing the game."

"There will be no relaxation of training rules. Go to the parade and bonfire if you wish but get home on time. Your job, in all of this, is to win that game."

Coach could tell that his team was trying to concentrate, but he could also tell that the other things were taking some of their attention.

Much of the activity Thursday evening was around the school. Many of the students were busy piling wood for a fire in the field across the street from the practice field. This drew the attention of some of the boys.

Across the street in the other direction were many more students, including many girls, busily decorating trucks and wagons for the parade. "How can boys concentrate on football with all the sideshows?" asked Mr. Miller of the head coach.

At Thursday afternoon's practice, the timing of the plays was poor and some of the boys lacked their usual polish; but under the circumstances, it was a fair practice. Mr. Andrews pronounced them "ready to go."

In the parade the team rode on a truck decorated appropriately in the school colors of blue and white. Little children ran along the side of the truck calling to their heroes. All along the route, parents and friends called to their favorite players who were proudly waving back. Most of the calls along the way, however, seemed to be for one boy. "Yea, Tony," was the cry of the fans.

The usual ceremonies were held at the bonfire. These included cheers, speeches by the principal and coaches, announcement of the winner of the queen contest and a speech by the team captain.

A little extra was added when the scheduled speeches were finished. After Captain Cain's speech the crowd began chanting, "We want Tony - - we want Tony."

Tony waved to the people, but they weren't satisfied. They clamored, "Speech - - speech."

Tony turned to Guts who was standing next to him. "I can't make a speech," he protested.

The crowd's chant became louder, "We want Tony." And "Speech - - speech."

Guts put his hand on Tony's shoulder and gave him a gentle push as he said, "Come on, Kid, ya gotta say something'".

The cheers gave way to clapping as they saw him move forward.

"I don't know what to say - - (more cheers) - \- I think I'll let Cain do the talking. I can't make a speech," Tony stated awkwardly, but the crowd loved it.

Soon, the last cheer had quieted and the tune of the last song floated away on the breeze. The fire burned down to red hot embers. The folks left the fire, some walking arm-in-arm, some in cars and some in small groups.

Guts walked home with Tony. When they had left the group, Tony confided in Guts, "Gee, I sure musta looked dumb out there tonight. I just couldn't think of anything to say."

"That's all right, Kid. You'll learn someday," answered the older player.

"Could you make a speech like that?" Tony asked.

I've never been asked. I can do it in school, so I guess I could."

"I wish I could talk like Mr. Andrews. He always knows what to say and how to say it," Tony added.

"Well, if you went to college like he did, you could talk good too. And you'd use the right words, too."

"Do you think I could go to college, Guts?"

"Sure, why not? Especially if you keep playin' football like you do now. There'll be lots of schools after you to go to their college."

"I never gave it much thought," mused the young player.

"Well, you better start thinking about it soon."

The conversation ended when they arrived at Tony's house. Guts continued on his way home alone. Guts lived about two miles from school and he usually walked alone or hitchhiked. This gave him lots of time to think about such matters. Tonight with the moon almost full, it was bright enough for Guts to cut across the fields and save some time.

"The cornfield is a lonely place at night," thought Guts as he plodded over the stubble of newly cut corn stalks. "I wonder how the cows like it out here all the time?" he asked himself aloud, partly to hear some sound in the stillness of the night. Then his thoughts drifted back to himself and his new life.

He knew that his life had changed greatly over the last few months. He knew he had been heading for trouble before he came to the farm. He knew it, but he had kept on doing it anyway.

"Why?" he asked. "Why did I keep doing what I knew I shouldn't do?" The other guys did it, and he wanted to be like them. Was that the reason? Probably! Every fellow wants to be somebody important. Sometimes they satisfy that need in the easiest way - - being like the other guys, especially if it doesn't take any hard work.

But now, Guts felt more grown-up. Now, he didn't act like he did when he was a kid. Now, he knew what life really was all about and he enjoyed it much more.

Though he didn't know how to put his thoughts into words, he had found a purpose in life. He enjoyed football and he felt as though he was really wanted. His coach and his teammates were depending on him and it made him feel better than any experience he had ever had before. He was learning to respect himself . . . and experiencing self-confidence

His school marks were much better than the previous year in Chicago. They ought to be improving considering the amount of time and effort he was putting into his studies this term. This too was part of the new Dean Gutsberg.

He was an important part of the happy family which had taken him in. Schoolmates talked pleasantly to him. Even though he hardly knew what to say to them, he enjoyed their friendliness. The church was becoming an important part of his new life and even more important than the church were the ideas he was learning in church.

After telling Tony he should think about going to college Guts thought about his own future. College had never been a part of his future plans before but lately he had started to think about going to college himself. He dreamed about someday being a doctor or a lawyer or a pastor. Or maybe a teacher because then he could be a football coach. He would really like to be a coach like Mr. Andrews.

It was hard to decide what he wanted to do after he graduated from high school, but he knew he wanted to get a college education and be somebody important.

"Somebody important," he said aloud. "Not like one of the old gang. I wanna be somebody really important, like Mr. Andrews."

When the Lowry "Green Gulls" took the field for the Homecoming game they were greeted by the largest crowd seen at a Foxville game in years. The weather was cool and clear, an ideal night for a football game. A big cheer went up from the visitor's side of the field when the boys in the green uniforms appeared.

"Better cheer now," called a loyal Foxville fan. "You won't have much to cheer about after the game begins."

Coach Andrews cornered his quarterback during the warm-up drills. "Joe," he said, "remember, no one has seen our wide reverse yet. Let's save it until the second half unless we need it and then I'll tell you personally."

"O.K., Coach, anything else?"

"No, call your own game. But use lots of wide stuff to keep the center loose. That'll set them up for the reverse when we need it.

The visitors lost the call of the flip of the coin. The teams lined up, the ball was kicked and the game was underway.

Joe used right side plays in the first series, but they gained very little yardage. The "Foxes" were forced to punt.

The "Foxville defense held equally well on their first series and they were given the ball again by a punt.

"Try my side," said Tiny Small, "I think I got a weakling." Joe tried a left slant and Tiny took his opponent completely out of the play. Tony gained the first first down of the night.

"Nice job, Tiny. We can get short yardage there any time," said Joe as they lined up again.

Neither team scored in the first quarter. Much of the first quarter was spent probing the opposition and trying various plays. The "Foxes" were near the goal line once but a fumble on a handoff lost the ball for them.

In the second quarter Lowry began using a variety of formations. One play was from a "T" formation, the next from a "single wing" formation, and then they tried a "short punt" formation and occasionally worked in some spread formation plays. This variety caused a lot of defensive adjustments, but the "Foxes" were up to it. The defense, through a valiant effort, kept the visitors from scoring.

Before the half ended the "Foxes" scored on a good sweep series. Fry carried the ball on a sweep to the right. From the 18 yard line Tony swept the left end carrying the ball to the 2 yard line. The team used the "flea flicker" formation on the next play and the defense looked to the halfback sweeping the end, only to have Joe walk into the end zone behind Guts for the first touchdown. The try for the extra point was good. At halftime the score was Foxville 7 – Lowry 0.

No sooner had the team seated themselves in the locker room than Tiny Small had a question to ask.

"What is it, Tiny?" asked the coach.

"Is it O.K. for me to pick up the blocker?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well," began Tiny, "that guy over me, he gets in such a funny position I just grab his hips and lift him off the ground. His legs go kicking up in the air."

"As long as the defensive man is going toward the ball carrier he can use his hands to help him, but you can't hold him," said the coach reviewing his instructions.

"Is lifting holding?"

"I don't know, but if the referee warns you about it, you had better not do it again."

Don Lake put in his opinion, "That guy looks so funny when Tiny picks him up, and he is mad! I bet he would kill you, Tiny, if he had a chance."

"I hope he doesn't do that," said Tiny jokingly, "then they would take him out of the game."

Serious talk filled the rest of the halftime. Plans had to be corrected to make more scoring possible. Joe was told to try some of the pass plays from the "flea flicker" and to try the wide reverse.

Soon after the intermission Foxville got possession of the ball after forcing the "Green Gulls" to punt. On the first play Fry took the ball on a "flea flicker". He began his run around right end, but he stopped before he got to the line of scrimmage and tossed a lazy pass. Tony had blocked the end but only enough to make it look like a running play. Leaving his man, he ran down about ten yards and was open when Fry looped the pass to him.

With a head start on the defensive backs who had run up to tackle the runner, Tony was too fast for anyone to stop him. He easily out-ran the green shirted players. The "Mighty Mite" had scored a "quickie", and the spectators were yelling their approval.

When the little fellow was replaced by Stan, who would try for the extra point, the fans gave him a standing ovation. Some in the crowd started a chant which was picked up by the rest of the fans, "Tony - - Tony - - Tony" (which sounded as if they were saying "Toe knee – toe knee").

The next time the "Foxes" got their hands on the ball, they went back to the sweep series. Tony was in his "wing" position outside of the end. Gene Fry went in motion, Joe pitched the lateral pass to him and Fry ran around the right end.

Tony, however, hadn't moved. He waited for the blockers and ball carrier to go past him. When Gene passed Tony, he slipped the ball to him just before he turned to run up field behind his blockers. Tony took the ball and held it out of the sight of the defenders as he ran parallel to the line of scrimmage but in the opposite direction. Guts made a quick block, then pulled out to block for Tony. He met and blocked a very surprised end leaving him flat on his back. Tony passed the big center and was out into the open. The fake had fooled the Lowry team so that not one green-shirted player gave chase. The only one who realized what had happened was the end, who was watching from a sitting position.

Sixty yards or a little more, was covered by Tony as his little legs peddled over the turf. The fans cheered as they saw him break away, and the cheer continued with increasing volume as he neared the end zone again.

Some who really understood the working of football plays laughed when they saw Tony all alone. It was actually humorous to see a good team of football players so completely fooled by a play.

"That's the way it's supposed to work!" called Coach Andrews to his reserves on the bench. Obviously excited and pleased at the turn of events, he added, "Did you ever see a play work so well?"

The try for the extra point was again good and the "Foxes" held a 21 – 0 lead to the great satisfaction of the hometown fans.

Later in the same quarter, Fry scored on a sweep of the right end. The ball was near the right sideline. As Gene went in motion, the "Green Gulls" began calling to each other to "look out for the reverse". The play was executed nicely, but the reverse never came. Fry rounded the end with two blockers leading the way and went 20 yards along the sideline to score another touchdown.

Again the extra point was added to the score which now was 28 – 0.

Tony added six more points to his total early in the last quarter. With the defense looking for plays outside of the end, Joe called for Tony to carry on a slant through Tiny Small's left tackle position. Tony took the ball and stepped quickly through the place from which Tiny had moved his "weakling".

Once through the line, Tony sidestepped the halfback and cut to the outside. Pumping his short legs at top speed, he raced over the 22 yards for his third touchdown of the night.

When Tiny moved his defensive man out of the play, the "Green Gull" tackle had had enough. He came up with both fists swinging. Since the officials were watching the runner, their duties carried them away from the fight. They missed seeing the first blows but when they did turn around they saw both teams slugging it out and the reserves pouring onto the playing field.

The officials ran into the melee blowing their whistles like cops in an old-time movie. Each official grabbed one of the players and held onto him. Soon the fight subsided and all that was left were players milling around the field. After the extra activity was over, the officials marched their captives to the sidelines and put them out of the game.

Guts was one of the "Foxes" who was ejected and Lake was the other. They both protested innocence but were put out anyway. The Lowry quarterback, who played linebacker on defense, was also banished from the game. The tackle that started the fracas was not detected and was permitted to remain in the game.

Captain Cain tried to talk to the officials protesting that the Foxville boys were not guilty. The officials would not listen to his arguments. After the extra point attempt, which was never kicked because of a poor snap from center, Cain again petitioned the referee.

"Are you sure Guts hit one of their guys?" he asked, then, quickly added, "Did you see him hit one of them?"

Angrily, the referee said, "Yes, he did, son. Don't you believe me?"

"Well," drawled Cain with his face as serious as he could be while he was laughing to himself, "He's a big, tough kid and he's from Chicago. Whenever he hits a guy, they go down. I didn't see any one on the ground, so I don't think he hit anyone."

The referee wouldn't accept Cain's reasoning. He felt it was not proper for a player to jest over an official's decision, so he took Cain by the arm and marched him to the bench also. To the coach, he said, "You had better keep this fellow out of the game, too. I don't want to argue with him."

When they finally resumed the game, the scoreboard showed the score was 33 – 0. The team had changed considerably because the coach had sent in a whole new team of reserves. The new players on both teams played out the game without changing the score.

After a big victory the hometown fans went happily to the Homecoming dance. Coach Andrews met the Lowry coach in the middle of the field and received congratulations.

"What'll you take for that little halfback?" the visiting coach asked. "He wrecked us! We tried to scout you last week but didn't see him. He was great!"

"We only use him every two weeks," teased Mr. Andrews.

"But who wouldn't look good behind your line?" the Lowry coach added, "They're the best we've seen. They make your backs job easy."
CHAPTER 10

A DIFFICULT LESSON

Tony was truly the hero and the darling of the school. To those who thought he was lucky in the Wilton game, he had now proven that it was more than luck. Lowry was supposed to be a solid team, but they fell by a larger score than Wilton did.

Fans were certain that Tony was better than Tom Brown, and maybe he was the best back ever to play at Foxville. Nothing, now, could stand in Tony's way. He would certainly run over all of the teams as he had Wilton and Lowry.

Everyone wanted to shake his hand at the dance. Some alumni told him how much better he was than the greats of other years. The girls did everything possible to get to dance with him, or to even be seen with him.

"Poor Tony," said Mrs. Miller to her husband as they danced near the crowd around Tony, "if he doesn't lose his sense of values over this, he'll be immune for life."

"Yes, it's a shame they can't leave him alone. He is good partly because he is so trusting and humble. If they don't leave him alone, he will soon become conceited." Mr. Miller could see the consequences of heaping praise on a pure, simple, unaffected lad.

They didn't leave him alone though. All evening it was the same, heaping of praise onto him. Saturday as he went to have his haircut, fans stopped him on the street to tell him they had seen him. In the barbershop, both barbers and customers continued the congratulations.

Some senior girls had a party on Saturday night and the hostess invited Tony who immediately became the hit of the party. The girl who invited him became quite angry when the other girls tried to share his attention.

Even at church Tony was congratulated on his success by the preacher and many of the congregation. Wherever he turned, people reminded him that he had done a great job in winning the games for Foxville High School.

By Monday, when he returned to school, Tony was thoroughly and completely saturated with ideas of his greatness. He now knew that he was the team, the best backfield man in the league and maybe would even be on the high school All-American team. "Foxville High School is lucky to have me going to this school," he thought. "After all I could just as well be scoring touchdowns for any school in the country."

"Oh, no!" was Mr. Andrews' only audible comment as he observed Tony coming down the hall holding hands with one of the senior girls between classes Monday. Tony liked like a lost lamb being led home, but as he passed the coach he said nothing - - only a broad grin crossed his face.

Other players often walked the halls holding hands with girls. No senior girl in her right mind would be seen holding hands with a sophomore boy, but Tony was no ordinary sophomore. He was - - well, he was Tony.

On Monday the practice was mainly running, doing loosening up exercises and a few blocking drills. It was not a very good practice. A change of attitude had occurred since the previous week. Everyone felt it, but no one spoke about it except the coaches.

"Do you suppose they think they are champs already?" asked Mr. Miller. He thought maybe complacency had overtaken the team.

"I don't know," answered Mr. Andrews, "but they aren't the same gang of fellows. Let's hope it is just that Monday-after feeling."

"Wait up, kid, I'll walk home with you," Guts called to Tony, who usually waited for him but tonight hurried out before Guts was ready.

"Not tonight, Guts. Marion is waiting for me. She's got the car and she's gonna give me a ride home. Should I ask her to give you a ride?"

"No! Don't bother, I'd rather walk."

Tony and Guts had become good friends after Tony had helped to have Guts restored to the team. In spite of the age difference, they were natural buddies. Both were big town boys transplanted into a small town. Neither had any close friends, nor could they easily make friends with people. Both had many acquaintances and were well liked by their schoolmates. They had a common interest in football. Through this interest, they overcame many barriers and cemented a close friendship.

When Dean walked home, which was most of the time, he had to go past Tony's house to the place where he could cut across the field. Naturally, they walked together, usually talking about all kinds of things.

Dean took the role of a father and preached to the "Kid", as Guts kept calling Tony. He constantly offered advice from his limited background. While he sincerely felt that his advice would help the younger boy to become a better man, it was doing Guts more good. He was unconsciously learning the lesson that in helping others, you also help yourself.

"I don't know why I should be mad at the kid for not wanting to walk home with me," mumbled Guts to himself as he plodded homeward. There were probably two good reasons if he would have admitted it.

One reason Guts was angry was because his routine had been upset again. He had enjoyed talking to Tony on these walks; now it seemed that he would lose this friend.

Another reason Guts was angry was because he felt that Tony was being played for a sucker. The girl who was devoting her attention to him did not like Tony; she was only interested in herself and what she could gain by being seen with the star football player.

Marion had made the rounds with the senior boys, but no one went with her for long. She had a reputation of being "spoiled". Her folks had plenty of money, and she spent much of it for clothes, parties and fun. When she wanted anything, she usually could get it - - except friendship. Now, she was playing with the closest friend Guts had, and he resented it.

Tony skipped practice Tuesday, much to the surprise of the team. They had seen him in school, and he didn't seem to be sick. No one had been told he would be missing.

Marion met Tony after his last class and asked him to go for a ride with her.

"I've gotta practice after school," he protested mildly.

"Oh, that!" Marion said pulling on his arm, "they'll get along without you. You come with me and we'll have some fun. As good as YOU are, you don't need to practice every day."

"Where's Tony?" asked Coach Andrews when he brought the team together at the mound.

"Maybe he's sick," someone said on his behalf.

"I saw him this afternoon and he didn't look sick," said the coach.

"Maybe one of his brothers or sisters was sick and he had to go home," spoke up Fry who feared the worst and thought Mr. Andrews might put Tony off the team.

"Well, he had better have a good excuse," Mr. Andrews said, "He needs practice as much as the rest of you do. I hope he doesn't think he knows it all yet. That goes for some of the rest of you fellows, too. In this game, when you're through learning, you're through playing."

To the players and coaches this practice seemed like it was just a routine. Nothing seemed to go well. Without Tony the team lacked the spark it usually had. The whole practice seemed to be just going through the motions.

When Coach Andrews found Tony in school the next morning, he said, "Tony, I'm glad to see you recovered from your sickness so quickly. You had me worried."

"I wasn't sick, Coach."

"Oh? Then where were you last night?"

"I didn't go to practice. Did you miss me?"

"We noticed you weren't there, if that's what you mean."

"Well," said the backfield star in a light tone, "I didn't think I would need the practice, so I went for a ride with Marion."

"You're part of the team, Tony, and we need you out at practice. You would be handicapped if you lost one of your hands. The team is handicapped when it loses one of its hands. You get to practice tonight. And, don't skip practice again or I'll ask you to turn in your equipment."

"O.K., Coach."

Tony was present at Wednesday night's practice. This in itself, however, did not return everything to normal.

The real problem began to make itself known when Tony and Joe had an exchange of words. Joe called for a play where Tony followed the fullback into the line. The ball was faked to the fullback and then fumbled when Joe tried to give it to Tony.

"Will ya gimme the ball so I can run," barked the little halfback at the quarterback.

"You were in too soon. Time your move better," came back the quick reply. Thus, the things which the boys had been thinking to themselves were finally breaking into words.

On the next play Tony came in to get the ball. Joe put it into his stomach as he had done hundreds of times before in games and practices.

Tony stopped after getting the ball, turned to Joe and yelled, "Don't slam it in so hard. What ya tryin' to do, slow me up? You afraid I'll look too good?"

Another complaint was registered soon. Joe called for a pass pattern which had Tony going deep. Joe threw the ball over Tony's head. An incomplete pass is nothing to become excited about. It sometimes happens to the best professional quarterbacks, but Tony was determined to make an issue of it.

Returning to the huddle, Tony walked up to Joe and said, "You better put in some extra time practicing your passes. Or, are you just trying to wear me out?"

Coach Andrews finally put Smitty into the lineup in Tony's place. He took Tony by the arm and walked him a short distance from the others. "What's the matter, Tony? Are you feeling alright?"

"Sure, I'm fine. Those guys must be sick. They're the ones who are doin' it wrong," complained the young player as he stood uneasily next to the coach.

After giving him time to cool off, Coach Andrews sent Tony back to the team and to his regular position. Again, it was the same story. This time he tangled with Guts.

The team had been trying to run the reverse but they were having difficulty working out their timing. Mr. Andrews had them run the same play several times. The defensive end knew what was coming so he moved in to stop it. Guts pulled out to block the end but had to go a little wider than normal. Tony, with the ball, ran into Guts as Guts was trying to block for him.

Tony stopped, slammed the ball to the ground and yelled at the big center, "Will ya get outta my way so I can run with the ball?"

Again Coach Andrews took Tony out of the practice. "What's wrong, Tony?" he asked. "Something isn't right."

"Nothin's wrong with me; I told ya. It's them guys. How can I run if a blocker steps in front of me?"

"Last Friday you could sidestep the whole Lowry team. Today you can't even get around your own blocker."

"It's not my fault anyway."

When the practice was finished, most of the players felt that it had been a waste of time. Other than the exercise, they had gained very little. The plays didn't work well even against the second team. For the first time friction had broken out among the players. It left a very uneasy feeling among them. "Would it be the same way Friday at Argonne?" they wondered.

When the boys came to practice Thursday, they were met with a sign on the door "Locker room meeting tonight - - no equipment," signed by the coach.

"Maybe we are getting stale, so we won't practice tonight. The way we have been going this week, it probably wouldn't do us any good anyway. We'll talk for a little while and then go home early," the coach began his talk.

The talk touched on conditioning and training. Mental attitude was discussed at some length because it seemed to Mr. Andrews that this was at the root of their troubles. He talked about cooperation and team effort rather than each playing as an individual. He tried to say the things which needed saying without getting personal. Time would tell whether his talk had done any good.

Coach Andrews finished his talk by telling the boys that they had two games to win if they wanted to be conference champions, but they would have to win them both. With this thought he ended his oration and dismissed the team for the day.

Guts walked home with Tony. There was very little conversation between them. Guts tried to talk with Tony but received little more than grunts in reply.

Captain Cain was thinking a lot about the situation the team was in. He stayed after the lecture to talk to Mr. Andrews about it.

"I think the trouble is mainly over Tony," the captain began while Coach Andrews listened. "He's the hero of the school. Everybody thinks he's the whole team. Some of the boys don't like the way he gets all the credit while they do the work. I guess we thought he was cute at first, but now he makes us sick the way he acts. What're we gonna do, Coach?"

Coach Andrews thought rather than answer immediately. This analysis was about the way he had figured it out, too. Tony had been the big scorer and, now, thought he was too god for the team. But, what does a coach tell his players in a case like this?

"Maybe we are just exaggerating this thing, Wayne," said the coach to his captain. "Perhaps our little talk tonight will help. How would it be if we wait to change anything? We'll see what happens in the game tomorrow. Probably the whole team will pick up where they left off last Friday."

"Gee, I don't know," said Cain slowly, "but I don't know what else to do either." Then after a pause he said, "He's the most valuable player we have. We couldn't score until he joined us; then he got us going. We need him."

"I'm aware of that, Wayne," added the coach, "That's why I think we shouldn't do anything now to upset it. Let's see if we can't get back on the winning trail without any trouble."

"And, if it doesn't work, what do we do then?" asked Cain.

"There will be time to do something else."

"I guess we'll have to depend on the defense to win this one," said Cain, still not convinced that the offense would correct itself. "Maybe we can intercept a pass or score on a fumble."

"O.K." laughed Mr. Andrews, trying to assure Cain.

"Well, we just gotta win," said Cain.

The crowd at Argonne Township High School was one of the largest they had had that season. It was even larger than normal because of Foxville fans that sensed that they were on the championship trail. Many people who hadn't been to an out-of-town game in years followed the team to this one. Foxville fans soon filled the bleachers provided for them, and lined the wire fence around the field.

No one in the crowd appeared aware of the conflict among the players. When Cain led the team onto the field, a great cheer greeted them. This was the kind of atmosphere Coach Andrews hoped would smooth over the differences.

Cain won the flip of the coin but chose to kick rather than receive. After the usual sideline huddle with the coach, Cain called the kicking team together around the ball. "Look, gang," he pleaded in desperate tones, "You all know how lousy our offense has been this week. If we're gonna win, it'll have to be done by us, not the backs. Can we hold'em?"

"Yea" - - "sure we can" - - "will do" - - "we'll hold'em." These were the replies to his question as the team broke the huddle to prepare for the kick-off.

The kick was a good one. With the light wind behind it, the ball carried almost to the end zone. The tackling was sharp and the black and gold "Eagles" had to start from their 17 yard line. Three plays from scrimmage netted them minus yardage when the "Foxes" defense stopped them cold. The "Eagles" punted and the "Foxes" took over the ball about mid-field.

With the ball in their possession Coach Andrews sent Tony into the game. When the now familiar number 5 ran out to take his place with the team, the spectators gave a roar of applause and many began chanting, "Tony - - Tony."

"I hope they won't be disappointed in their hero," Mr. Andrews said to his assistant. "If he doesn't come out of his poor attitude we're sunk."

Tony tried his best to do the job expected of him, but his attitude didn't change when he entered the game. He still felt that he was the star and the team depended on him. With this idea in his mind, he did no better than he had done in practice.

The fans were a little disappointed that the "Foxes" weren't running all over the "Eagles" from the beginning. The first three plays failed to get the yardage needed and the "Foxes" punted the ball to the home team.

After being replaced by defensive men, Tony and Joe jogged back to the bench.

"How come you only called my play once?" asked Tony, "I can't make any touchdowns unless ya give me more chances to run."

"You didn't gain anything on that one did you?" asked Joe.

"Well, I couldn't even get through the line. I can't run if they don't get out of my way," barked Tony as they sat on the bench to watch the defense work.

Soon the Foxville team had the ball again. Again, it was the same story. They tried three plays but failed to get the needed ten yards. The ball was given back to the opponents.

This pattern continued through the first quarter. Only two first downs were made by the "Foxes" while they held the "Eagles" to one. Each time Tony carried he was prevented from gaining any yardage by some mistake. He always managed to find some excuse – though to the team it was obviously lack of teamwork which was at fault.

In the second quarter it was much the same as in the first quarter. Joe tried to pass but with little enthusiasm and little success.

About halfway through the second quarter Cain called for a time out. He trotted over to the sideline to meet with the coach.

"Coach, we gotta do something about Tony."

"I'll send Smitty in. We'll see if that helps."  
"Can we try something with him first?"

"What do you have in mind?" the coach asked his captain.

"He's a good kid, but he's got a big head. He thinks we're in his way. Can we give him the ball a couple of times and let him get smeared good. Maybe we can show him that he needs to work with us."

"Let's try - - "Coach began, but was interrupted.

Cain continued, "Then if you take him out maybe he will be ready to play with us the next half."

"O.K. - - try it. I only hope he doesn't get hurt."

"He won't; he's too tough for that," called Cain trotting back to the huddle.

Once back with his team, Cain explained what they would do. "Joe, call a couple of Tony's plays," then to the line he added, "Tony thinks we get in his way. This time let's see what he can do without us. When he gets the ball, we watch." Finally, to Tony he said, "Let's see what you can do without our help. We won't be in your way this time."

When the whistle blew calling the teams back to action Coach Andrews was telling Mr. Miller what Cain had proposed doing. He ended by saying, "This should be good. You know, I wouldn't be surprised to see Tony score all by himself."

Such was not the case, though. Joe called for a quick opener with Tony going straight into the line from a regular "T" formation. He pushed the ball into Tony's stomach just before Tony arrived at the line of scrimmage. Instead of blocking; both Cain and Whisk, who normally would have tried to block out the tacklers, stepped aside. Three defenders – the tackle, guard and linebacker – all had a clean shot at the ball carrier. The slap of pads, as tackler and ball carrier met, could be heard all over the stadium. "Ugh," was the only sound Tony made as he fell to the ground for a loss of yardage.

After the whistle Tony bounced up like a rubber ball ready to try again. Grins covered the faces of the rest of the team. No one said, "We told you." They didn't have to say it.

"How about an end sweep, Joe?" asked Tony.

"Sure" replied Joe, "anything your little old heart desires."

Joe called for a left end sweep from the "flea-flicker." Tony went in motion, took the ball as it was pitched to him and headed for the left end. All of the blockers watched instead of trying to help. Tony was like a sitting duck in a shooting gallery. The "Eagles" in their black shirts swarmed all over Tony, throwing him for an eight yard loss.

Coach Andrews covered his eyes as his halfback was battered to the ground. Tony jumped up quickly, no worse for the jolting he took. When he returned to the huddle he realized how quiet the fans were, except for a few "boos."

"What will it be now, Tony?" Joe asked.

"Try a cross and make the fake good."

"O.K., 161 left cross," Joe called. Then he added sarcastically, "and make the fake good."

Jerry Kenowski made a dive toward the center while Joe faked a handoff to him. Tony started his pattern across the line, took the ball from Joe and started to look for running room. Three linemen were there to meet him. And meet him, they did. The little back bounced when he hit the turf but was up quickly.

"Punt, on two," Joe called in the huddle. The "Foxes" gave the ball back to Argonne and the defensive team went to work again.

Tony went to the bench, sat down, and put a towel on his head. His desire to be alone at this time was honored; no one talked to him. He just sat there and thought about his humiliation.

"Smitty, in for Tony," coach said the next time they had the ball. Smitty took his place but they only ran two plays before the time was up for the first half.

Mr. Andrews started into the locker room; but he halted before opening the door. He just stood there waiting, and wondering what he could do or say that would help in this situation.

Guts didn't hesitate though. He felt it was time for someone to tell Tony what the score was. He grabbed Tony by the arm and walked him through the locker room to the hall at the other end of the room. Backing the smaller and younger boy against the wall, Guts explained the situation to him.

"Well, hero, you ain't doin' so well are ya? What's the matter with the 'Mighty Mite'?" and then without waiting for an answer he continued, "I'll tell ya what's the matter. Everyone knows except you, and I'm gonna tell ya

"Just because you're small, everybody thinks you're cute. They write about you and talk about you because you're younger than the rest of us. That was O.K. as long as you played WITH us.

"Then you got the idea that you were the star of the team and we were in your way. You were too good for us. You got yourself a big head - - all blown up like a balloon. Well, where's your balloon now? It's busted, ain't it? You found out you couldn't do anything by yourself, didn't you?

"You oughta be ashamed of yourself thinkin' you're so hot and forgetting all that those other guys have done. Those guys do most of the work so you can run, and you hog all the credit. All you do is run on offense. What about the guys who play defense, you don't think they're part of the team.

"Well, I'll tell you, mister wise guy, if you forget this hero stuff and start playin' ball with us again, we'll be a team and we can win. If you won't, we all lose. Think about that."

Guts had had his say, but he held Tony against the wall for a while longer letting him think about what he said. Then he relaxed his grip.

"Do you really think that way, Guts?" Tony asked in all seriousness, "Is that the way the other guys feel, too?"

"Yes, I'm afraid it is. We all like you, Kid, but not the way you been actin' this week. You need us and we need you. We gotta be a team, or we don't win."

A look of understanding came over Tony's face. He smiled and said, "You're right, Guts. We've got work to do."

They re-entered the locker room to hear the last part of the coach's halftime talk. Cain told Mr. Andrews where the two missing players were. He guessed why Guts had taken Tony aside and did not interrupt them.

Walking out to start the second half, Guts said to Mr. Andrews "Had a little talk with the Kid. I think he'll be O.K. now."

"Good," said Mr. Andrews, "we certainly need him at his best."

The "Foxes" received the kickoff and brought the ball back to the 33 yard line. Guts had passed the word along to the boys, and they were ready to help.

"Let's try that 161 cross again," called Joe for the first play from scrimmage, "This time we work as a team."

The ball was snapped, the fake made, then the handoff to Tony. Good blocks opened a big hole and Tony scampered for 11 yards and a first down. When he returned to the huddle, Tony surprised them all by giving credit to the lineman for their help.

"Nice block, Guts," said Tony as he slapped Guts on the back. "Nice hole, Don, thanks," he said nodding to the guard. Then he waited quietly for the next play to be called.

Several plays later after the ball had been advanced to the 41 yard line; Joe called for a slant pass. Tony, racing diagonally downfield between the defensive backs, caught the pass over his shoulder. He had a good start on the backs and easily outdistanced them to the goal line for the first touchdown of the evening.

Cheers from the visitor's side shook the town of Argonne. The "Foxes" had scored. Tony had done it again. But, few noticed that Tony had changed his usual behavior pattern. Instead of trotting to the bench to receive the cheers of the fans in the stands, he turned and ran toward Joe.

"Nice pass, Joe, it was perfect," said Tony sincerely as he shook the hand of the quarterback who had thrown the pass to him. Only then did he head for the bench where he received congratulations from the coaches and reserves.

Argonne managed to get two first downs before relinquishing the ball to the "Foxes" again. It was a vicious tackle by Guts that jarred the ball out of the ball carrier's hands and Cain fell on it.

A short pass gained a first down on the 32 yard line. A sweep by Fry carried to the 18 yard line. Joe called on Tony to carry off tackle. He bounded through the opening made by Tiny and Augie Bent, used his vaulting stiff-arm on the cornerback and ran away from the pursuing defensive safety. He was tackled at the goal line but fell over the line for another touchdown.

Again Tony took time to come back to his blockers and thank them. When Tony left the game, Stan came in and again split the uprights to add another point and make the score 14 to 0.

The team was charged up once again. They yielded one first down before making the "Eagles" punt the ball to them. The offense marched almost 70 yards to make their third score. The touchdown came on a long pass from Joe to Jay Roberts. Fry and Tony had made the backs weary of their wide plays, making the fullback open on almost every play. When Jay went straight down the field, the backs were caught flatfooted.

The score now had the visitors leading 20 to 0. When Stan kicked the ball over the crossbar, the scoreboard changed to 21 to 0.

Completely demoralized by the sudden scores, the "Eagles" fumbled the kickoff and lost the ball when Cain fell on his second loose ball of the evening. This time the recovery was on the 13 yard line.

Only two plays were needed to get the score this time. Jerry Kenowski tried first on a slant-off-tackle but only gained about two yards. Tony was given the ball for an end sweep from the "Flea Flicker. With good blocks by Gene and Jerry, he turned the end easily and scored again. Before leaving the field, he went to the blockers and thanked them.

Blockers don't expect thanks or even acknowledgement for their efforts. They expect that the backs will receive the press clippings and the glory which goes with carrying the ball. It made them feel better, though, when the back realized how much help their efforts had been and told them so.

Coach Andrews emptied his bench to give the substitutes a chance to play. They played well but weren't able to score. The game ended with a score of 28 to 0.

A happy team boarded the bus for the return trip to Foxville. They reminded each other that now all they needed was a win over Elm Lane at home, and they would be the champions.

On the bus, as it led the noisy convoy of cars homeward, one of the players was not feeling well. Augie Bent got up from his seat and went to the front of the bus. He asked the driver to stop because he was getting sick.

The bus pulled over to the shoulder of the road in time to let Augie out and prevent the bus from being a mess. When Augie returned to the bus the trip was resumed. Coach Andrews had Augie sit next to him on the first seat of the bus. He asked, "Did this come on all of a sudden?"

"No, I haven't felt good all day."

"You were in school? Did you go to the nurse?"

"No, I think it's the flu. Our whole family had it this week. All but me, I guess I've got it now."
CHAPTER 11

"WIN OR ELSE"

"I'll be glad when this football season is over," said Mrs. Andrews to her husband at the dinner table on Sunday, "All you ever think about is football - - football - - football. Do you realize that in church this morning you were drawing football plays during the sermon? I suppose you have another meeting this afternoon?"

"Yes, dear, we do have a meeting. We're going over the films of the game and making plans for the game Friday against Elm Lane."

"Thank goodness this is the last one. I can't wait to have my husband back from the game again," she sighed. Mrs. Andrews was a typical coach's wife. She didn't understand the game beyond knowing that the team with the most points won the game and teams scored touchdowns to get points. She realized that a lot of time was needed for coaches to plan and prepare for games, but what she didn't like was to have Bob spend almost all of his time thinking about football.

The films showed about what was expected. The defense had played a very good game - - probably their best of the year. The offense looked so different in the second half from what it had been in the first half that it caused Mr. Miller to say, "It looks like two different teams."

The coaches spotted several individual errors. They marked them down to show the boys involved so that they might correct their mistake next time.

"Anything new for this week?" asked Mr. Miller.

"Well, I think we'll put in a new play with some real razzle-dazzle in it. I think something different is fun even if we never use it in a game."

"Sounds good, what do you have in mind?"

"We line up in a 'Flea-Flicker' formation. The man-in-motion gets a quick pitch as he goes back. When he passes the quarterback, he slips it back to him and then he continues his sweep with the guard and fullback leading the way. Then the quarterback throws deep to the left end."

"Do you think it'll work?" quizzed the assistant.

"Certainly it will work. We've used it on the "B" squad and these boys handle the ball better than the sophomores."

"By the way, speaking of left end how is Augie?" Mr. Miller asked about the boy who had been ill on the bus.

"He had it good yesterday. The doctor said it was only the flu, and most people are over it in twenty-four hours. They lose so much in the process, though, that it leaves them pretty weak," Coach Andrews explained.

Monday, the absent list showed Augie still out of school and three regulars had also been reported absent. They included Joe, Fry and Guts. Calls to their homes were made. All of them seemed to have the flu symptoms. The flu epidemic threatened to wreck the team. Coach Andrews had visions of playing the game with a team half composed of reserves.

Practice was light on Monday. No new plays were introduced. It seemed wise to concentrate on the problem of the week – flu. Mr. Miller worked with the linemen who were there, while Mr. Andrews tried to correct some of the errors made by the backs. The practice was cut short and the boys were sent home early.

We want you to save your energy to fight off the flu bug," Mr. Andrews explained.

Tuesday Coach was happy to see Augie Bent back at school, but when the absent list was sent out, the three regulars were still out and joined today by Don Lake, Wayne Cain and several reserves.

"This is terrible," moaned Coach Andrews to Mr. Miller. "We get a chance to win the championship. Then, sickness hits us. I hate to look at the list."

Practice was light again Tuesday. "If we can just hold our own until the fellows return, we'll be satisfied," the coach explained, "You fellows take care of yourself. We need all of you."

Booster Club members occupied themselves at their last regular meeting by planning a football banquet for the team. This year it would be more than just a banquet, it would be a "Victory Banquet" for the new champions. In the minds of most of the fans there was no question that they would defeat the team who was in first place; and by defeating them, replace them on top. It was an accepted fact among the fans that the "Foxes" would do it.

Plans were made for the banquet including the dinner, the speaker, presenting award letters, and finally – the climax of the program – presenting the Booster Club's "Most Valuable Player" trophy.

After the business had been completed, talk changed to the last game. "Why does it take so long for the team to get started?" asked one of the fans.

"Shall we say, we like to give the other team a chance? If they don't take it, then we go to work."

"Let's not," jested the questioner. "I'm serious. Why do you think it takes so long to get going?"

"I believe there are two reasons," began the coach more slowly. It takes our quarterback some time to try different plays to see what plays will work best. We find which plays work; then we remember those to use when we need them. Along with that, many of our plays work from basic plays. We like to show them our basic stuff early and often; and, later, when we use variations, they aren't expecting them. I hope that is clear," he said to the questioner.

"The second reason we do better later in the game is because of our physical and mental conditioning. I really believe we have been in better shape than the other teams. Our kids run at least two miles at every practice. That's a lot of running, but it pays off in the late stages of a game.

"And, I might add one more thing. We have some pretty good ball players. They have the ability, and they have the desire. What more could one ask? They may not be fast starters, but in this game it's the score at the end that counts."

"Would the team have done better with the Brown twins?" asked another questioner.

"No! At least I don't think we would," answered Mr. Andrews thoughtfully. "They had very fine ability, but the attitude they had handicapped them. There is a different attitude on the team now from what there was when they were there. These kids want to play. They're willing to give up a few things to win."

The questions drifted to the final game. Mr. Andrews explained how a win move the "Foxes" into first place. "We have won four, lost one and tied one. If we defeat Elm Lane they will have five wins and two losses. All of the other teams have lost at least two. We would be on top with five, one and one."

"How do you figure the chances for Friday," asked one person.

"We'll win, of course!" answered one fan quickly.

"I wish I were that certain," Mr. Andrews said. He wondered if he should tell them about the five regular players sick today with the flu. "No," he thought, "that would sound like an alibi."

"I think we'll win," he said cautiously. "Elm Lane is fast and has beaten most of the teams in the league, but they haven't met our line, yet. On the strength of our defense, I believe we can win."

"Do you have any surprises for this game?" asked another fan.

"We'll see about that Friday. Come out to the game and see for yourself," Coach Andrews said to the last questioner.

The club president took over to close the meeting. He ended with a short speech in the form of an order. "Thank you, Coach. We'll see you next week at the Victory Banquet. I don't like hedging on this business of IF we can win. You had better win, or you better not come?"

Mr. Andrews knew that the president's threat had been meant to be funny, but somehow it carried a warning which was not welcome. The phrase kept coming back to him, "You had better win - - ". Coach Andrews was getting used to hearing this threat, but he didn't like it.

Wednesday the flu situation let up somewhat. Guts was back in school. Fry and Joe Blaine were also there. Cain and Don Lake were still gone. Tony came to Mr. Andrews in the morning and said he thought he was getting it, too. The nurse sent him home giving Coach Andrews another worry. At this late date Tony probably would still be in bed Friday.

Wednesday was the first time that enough boys were present to have a scrimmage. Mr. Andrews kept the workout light, though, because those who had been sick were still weak; and those who hadn't contacted the flu needed to keep their strength to fight it off.

Smitty ran at right halfback again, where he would probably play Friday. As usual, where Smitty was located would be a place for the oddities to occur.

Smitty was always a count ahead or a count behind the others. This was nothing new. The coaches had observed it often, and the officials had called it sometimes. For this game, his timing must be correct. Mr. Miller watched him each play to check his moves.

After noticing the same error several times, Mr. Miller approached Smitty and said, "Have you noticed that every member of the team goes on a different count from the one you start with? Doesn't it bother you that everyone on the team is wrong, but you?"

"Well," snapped back Smitty, "You're the coach, why don't you tell 'em?"

Later, Smitty was playing defensive halfback while the reserves were running the "Falcons" pass patterns. Coach told Smitty to watch the bench for a signal to play close or further back from the line. "Sometimes we'll give them a short pass but keep them from getting a long one," Coach explained.

Smitty kept getting closer and closer to the line. Mr. Andrews began to signal him to move backward. When his signals were ignored he yelled,"Smitty, loosen up!" at the same time he motioned him to back up.

"Yeah - - O.K." was the reply from the halfback but he didn't move back.

Then Coach Andrews roared, "SMITTY, LOOSEN UP!"

The halfback looked annoyed at the interference from the coach, but he reacted this time.

He jumped up and down, flinging his arms loosely at his side. He looked much like a marionette puppet on a string. While moving in this manner he called, "I'm loose, Coach, look, I'm loose."

This put a temporary halt to the practice because everyone was watching Smitty and doubled with laughter at his reply.

The team personnel were almost back to normal on Thursday. Only Tony was missing from the regular squad. The doctor had given him some medicine, and he was still in bed.

Practice on Thursday this late in the season was more to keep the routine than to learn new skills or new plays. Newspaper photographers were there to take pictures of the team and some of the stars for their papers. The yearbook photographer was there to take pictures of the team for the school yearbook. While the boys waited to have their pictures taken they began throwing and kicking the footballs around the field.

Joe Blaine, practicing his punts, kicked a high spiral over the head of the intended receiver. When it sailed over his head, Fry yelled, "heads up!" Most of the players looked up in time to see one of the funniest sights they had seen all year.

Jimmy Andersen, the team manager, had been lining the field. He was pouring the white marking compound from a sack into the hopper of the machine. The kicked ball landed squarely in the hopper spraying the white powder in every direction. Jimmy, of course, was covered with the fine white dust from head to toe. Fortunately, he had closed his eyes and was none the worse for the experience, but the boys who enjoyed the slapstick comedy still talk of the night when "Dead-eye Joe scared Jimmy white."

The incident captured the attention of the team and served to take away some of the nervousness. After the pictures were taken, the team ran signal drills with ease and precision which pleased the coach.

When the big day came the sun shone brightly. The day was cool and dry. This pleased the "Foxes" because they wanted good weather for their runners.

Class work took second place in the minds of the F.H.S. students on the day they were calling "championship day." The school was decorated with posters and streamers, and each student tried to wear the school colors of blue and white in some way.

A pep assembly was held before school was dismissed. School spirit ran high as everyone cheered loudly to encourage the team on their quest for the first championship in fifteen years.

Tony, who had not been in school that morning, surprised Coach Andrews at the pep meeting. The doctor had given him a clean bill of health and let him go to school in the afternoon. Coach called the doctor to hear from him whether he thought Tony could play. "He is weak, but he is alright," the doctor told the coach over the phone, "If you want to play him, go ahead; but use him sparingly. He's still weak."

After school Tony asked Mr. Andrews, "Well, did Doc say it was O.K. to play?"

"Maybe, how do you feel?"

"Fine, can I play?" asked Tony.

"Dress with the team, and we'll see if we can get you in," Mr. Andrews said, still uncertain how much to count on his halfback.

Seriousness of purpose was evident while the boys were dressing for the big game. It was quite a contrast from the usual pre-game locker scenes. Tonight there was no horseplay, there was no joking, there was no yelling or shouting in the room. It seemed as if a funeral was about to begin. Talking was done almost in a whisper. Occasionally, one of the boys could not contain his thoughts and burst out with, "This is it gang. Win this and we're in. This is one we gotta win."

When the time came for the "Foxes" to take the field, they were ready, willing and anxious to take on the Elm Lane "Falcons."

Elm Lane was one of the larger schools in the conference and football was the main part of their curriculum; at least, that was the way it seemed to the rest of the schools.

Year after year Elm Lane was fighting Doorland for the top spot in the league. The fans there expected the team to be in first place as a matter of course. The team didn't disappoint their followers often.

Mr. Andrews was only interested in winning this game, but if the opportunity presented itself, he would probably let the "Foxes" run up a big score against this team. Whenever the "Falcons" could, they enjoyed pouring the touchdowns onto a hapless opponent. Sometimes their coach left his first team in until the score was 60 to 0, and the previous year he had trounced the Wilton team 77 to 0.

Needless to say, the "Falcon" coach was not popular among league coaches. At the same time, the other coaches respected his ability to field a team well grounded in the fundamentals of the game. They also respected his "bag of tricks." His team could be expected to try anything in the line of plays or gimmicks.

The last game of the season promised to be very interesting. The Elm Lane – Foxville rivalry was being renewed with the league championship in the balance.

When the warm-up and preliminaries were over, the captains met with the officials in the center of the field. The visiting captain won the toss of the coin and chose to receive. The kick was made, and the game was underway.

Elm Lane realized early that they were playing against a good defense. In the first series of downs, they only gained two yards before they had to kick the ball back to the "Foxes".

Joe huddled with his team to call the first plays. He said, "Let's see where they are weak." He didn't seem to be as anxious to get a quick score as he was to find out the strengths and weaknesses of his opponents.

Smitty started the game at right halfback where Tony usually played. The spectators didn't understand the coach's reasoning. Singly and in groups they called out, "Tony - - Tony," and "we want Tony." They were trying to tell Mr. Andrews that he had forgotten to put his star backfield man into the game.

Joe soon found that the "Falcons" were covering outside plays very strongly. He began working the middle of the line and gained two first downs in a row. When they tightened up the center, he threw a pass but it was intercepted. The "Falcons" took the ball and began a drive of their own.

Thus, the game was a see-saw battle throughout the first quarter and most of the second. Both teams yielded some yardage, but neither team was able to sustain a scoring drive.

With two minutes left in the first half, the referee blew his whistle and called, "timeout, White." Joe Blaine wanted time to talk to the coach, and he had asked for the break in play.

Joe came over to the sidelines where his coach met him. "Now, Coach?" he asked, "Can I call it now?" Joe had been told not to use the reverse, but to save it until later in the game. Now, he felt it was time.

Coach Andrews thought immediately of the situation. Stalling for time, he asked, "What do you think?"

Joe was good at following directions given to him by the coach, but he was a gambler, too. He liked to try the open and spectacular whenever he had the approval to do so.

"I think they're set up for it. We just made a first down up the middle. They'll be looking for more in there. I think we could cut loose for a long one," Joe pleaded confidently, "If only we had Tony in there."

"If we had Tony in there I'd say go ahead. Let's do this. I'll send Tony in for a few plays. Run a right sweep first and have him watch what's happening. Then run the wide reverse," Coach gave the instructions. He added, "This better be good. If we flop on this, we may be losing our biggest chance."

"Sure, Coach," Joe answered as he began to run back to the team, "Don't worry. We'll make it."

Thoughts quickly crossed the mind of Mr. Andrews. "Don't worry," Joe said. Did he know how many hours his coach had spent worrying this season? If the play worked, it would give them a halftime lead. That would help greatly. If it failed, it would be a psychological let down for the team at a time when they couldn't afford a letdown.

Another idea crossed his mind: "You had better win . . ." the words of the president of the Booster Club.

"Tony," called the coach looking down the bench, "Come here, Tony."

"Yeah, Coach" replied Tony throwing off his big white bench coat as he responded to the coach's call. "Can I go in now?"

"Yes, but listen, we're going to run a sweep right. I want you to watch the way they cover the reverse. Then check the blocking with Guts so there's no mistake. Then we try the reverse."

"O.K.," Tony said when he left to replace Smitty.

The crowd came alive when their favorite – number 5 – took to the field. When they raised their voices in approval, the visitors took notice. It sounded as if he had already scored the touchdown.

Gene carried the ball on the sweep to the right. Tony blocked, but he quickly looked over to the other side of the line to see who would be there when he ran the reverse.

The ball was carried to the 28 yard line where it was another first down. Foxville fans sensed that their team was on the move. They began chanting "First and ten do it again. First and ten do it again," and some yelled, "We want a touchdown."

"Falcons" fans realized that three first downs in a row were too much. They began urging their team to "Hold that line."

In the huddle Tony told Guts, "The end came in fast and tried to catch Gene. The cornerback just held his ground. I can get by the end. You get the cornerback."

"O.K. Kid," said Guts, "I'll get him - - you take off."

Joe stood outside of the huddle and looked over the defense just as if he were sizing them up trying to decide what to call.

"Doesn't he remember what play he is supposed to call?" mumbled Coach Andrews stamping his foot impatiently. "What's he waiting for?"

"Take it easy, Bob," said his assistant. "If they're half as jumpy as you are, it's bound to work."

Joe called the play in the huddle, and then added, "If we're going to lead at halftime, this one will have to do it."

After the clap of hands to break the huddle, the team lined up to run the play. Fry took the ball on another sweep to the right, handed off to Tony who started parallel to the line of scrimmage. He had his eyes on the end that was going at top speed. Tony had an easy time sidestepping the fast charging end. Guts pulled out around the line where he surprised the cornerback with a beautiful block putting him flat on his back just as Tony rounded the corner.

"Nice block," called Tony to Guts on his way past them out into the open. The remainder of the way it was a footrace between Tony and the defensive back. Tony won and crossed the goal line two steps ahead of the other back.

Twenty eight yards from the line of scrimmage probably took no longer than ten seconds. To the defensive players, fooled by such a "sucker play," it probably seemed like ten hours.

Mr. Andrews was so relieved that his play had worked well, he laughed out loud. He pounded the backs of his players near him.

The school pep song was struck up by the band while the rest of the hometown fans shouted their appreciation. Cheerleaders forgot to lead the crowd. In their excitement they jumped up and down hugging each other while tears of joy streamed down their faces.

A score of 6 to 0 soon increased to 7 to 0 when Stan made the extra point. The score was still 7 to 0 at the halftime break.

Coach Andrews didn't believe in pep talks at halftime. He used the time for resting and correcting mistakes. This time he yielded to the temptation of one last bit of oration.

"You fellows have been a fine group to work with this year. Whatever happens in the second half, I want you to know I am proud of you - - all of you - - and the job you have done.

"You are close to the championship, and you can win it all by winning this game tonight. Don't let up now! Just think of the length of time since Foxville has had a championship. Think of all you have done this year to get this far. Think of all those laps you ran, and the exercises you did. Remember them? And remember how you hated them. Well, now you can make someone pay for it. Get out there and make that 'Falcon' team pay for all that work you did."

The team burst from the locker room ready to tear the Elm Lane team to pieces.

In the other dressing room, the "Falcons" spent most of their time working out a way to get help on the reverses. When it was over, they had decided to move their defensive halfbacks apart and move one of their center linebackers back. The boys received a good lecture on the techniques to use when the next reverse was employed.

In the second half the "Flea Flicker" formation was used often. Each time it was set up, the "Falcons" moved to their 5-3-3 pattern and called to each other to "watch for the reverse."

They were so cautious of the reverse, that all of the other plays worked better. Sweeps went for first downs, three plays in a row. The fourth time Tony faked a block and went downfield. He was all alone again as he caught the pass from Fry, who had stopped the fake sweep to throw the ball. Tony out-ran the defensive back the last 20 yards for his second touchdown.

Noisy spectators cut loose again. With the defense the "Foxes" had, the fans thought two touchdowns looked mighty good. They were ready to celebrate the victory early.

With another good kick by Stan, the score became 14 to 0.

"Two isn't enough, Joe," the coach said to his signal caller. "We need at least one more."

"Think the reverse would go again?" Joe asked.

"Not the way they're playing for it now. But, almost anything else will go. Let's try a slant pass. Keep Fry in and shoot Tony down."

When Foxville regained possession of the ball, it was on their own 27 yard line. Ahead by two touchdowns Foxville should have played it safe but Joe wasted no time putting the coach's advice into effect. On the first play he called for the slant pass.

Probably the last play the defense expected was a pass, and that was the reason it was so successful.

The ends went straight down, then turned to the outside, leaving a wide open space. Into this space raced the "Mighty Mite" with his defensive man trailing behind him.

Joe threw a high, long pass which Tony spotted easily. Changing his direction slightly, he caught the ball without breaking stride. Everyone on the field and in the stands witnessed the little back race the sixty yards to the end zone with three red and white "Falcons" players chasing him.

Tony had scored again. Fans along the field burst onto the field to pound Tony on the back while those in the stands yelled themselves hoarse.

When the rest of the team arrived at the end zone, they rescued Tony from his admirers. Tony hugged Joe while he said, "What a beautiful pass that was!"

"You did the work on it," replied Joe modestly.

Then Tony walked slowly to the sidelines. He realized for the first time that he was all tired out. Coach shook his hand, helped him to the bench, and threw a coat over his shoulder.

"Nice going, Tony," said Mr. Andrews. "Keep warm now. Your job is done."

Stan missed the extra point on his third attempt of the evening, but the score was still a one sided 20 to 0.

Most of the loyal Foxville followers shouted for their team to pile up the score. Mr. Andrews felt that the lead was enough, and he began giving his tired players a rest. The last quarter witnessed a parade of players going in and out of the game. Mr. Andrews wanted to give everyone a chance to play in the final game of the season.

At the end of the game, a sea of fans poured onto the field to deliver their personal messages of congratulations. Coach Andrews went to mid-field to meet the Elm Lane coach.

The visiting coach was not happy. He blamed his loss on poor officiating. He complained about the noisy crowd which made it hard for his team to hear the signals. Finally he complained, "We had a couple of kids sick with the flu this week. Our practices weren't good. That hurt us."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Mr. Andrews said. He thought, but didn't say to the other coach, "We had a few sick too, eight regulars to be exact."

That was about all the time the coaches had to discuss the game. The blue and white "Foxes" swarmed around their coaches, hoisted them to their shoulders and carried them back triumphantly to the dressing room. The coaches were transported to the showers where a last minute reprieve saved them from taking a shower with their clothes on.

The dressing room was about as noisy after the game as it was quiet before the contest. Mr. Andrews made the rounds of his players, shaking their hands and talking to each one personally before he left to talk with those outside of the locker room

Foxville had finally won the football championship.
CHAPTER 12

"MOST VALUABLE"?

The end of the game signaled the beginning of the celebration. Car horns were heard all over the city. A snake dance spontaneously came into being composed of students headed to the business district to celebrate. The yelling, cheering young people wound their way to the center of town where the police broke up the chain of people.

Many adults took the game to their favorite drinking establishment where they toasted the victors and replayed the game from memory. Impromptu parties were held all over town celebrating the first football championship in the memory of most towns' people.

It was, indeed, a very pleasant weekend in Foxville. Other news and gossip was much less important to the little community than was their football team. A lot of talk was heard from the fans about the most valuable player trophy to be awarded at the banquet. There was little doubt in the minds of the fans. They knew that one little boy was the most deserving.

On Monday, a special assembly was held in school to honor their team. Mr. Hammond, the principal, gave a talk honoring the team for their work. He mentioned the number of handicaps the team had to overcome, "We never expected these boys would win the title. Everyone thought we would have a good team until we had to drop our two best players from the squad. There was no one who thought we had a chance after that happened. Then we were surprised to have an addition to the team that no one expected. He scored most of the touchdowns and led the team to win after win." Mr. Hammond continued his speech telling about the games the team won and ended by saying, "these boys have shown that they are the best. We're proud of them."

Coach Andrews was asked for a few words. He too praised his team. "I must take exception to Mr. Hammond's speech however. He may have given up on our chance of winning, and I know many of the people in town gave up on us. But, the boys on the team never gave up, or we would not have won." This statement was followed by laughter and cheering.

"This group of boys are real champions. They learned how to accept defeats and setbacks and come back to win. When things seemed the darkest, they worked the hardest. My hat is off to a team of real champions." Again the students assembled responded with loud cheers and applause.

"I have been asked to introduce the boys to you again. I think you know them by now, so I don't think I'll introduce them." Laughter interrupted him for the third time. He continued, "I'm going to ask Captain Cain to do that task for you. But, before he does that, I want to suggest that you pay close attention to the boys who played defense for us. You all cheered the efforts of the offense, but seldom did we hear cheers for the defense. I want to tell you that they were great. They only allowed four touchdowns all year and not a point in the last four games. Maybe we should give them a hand now." He began applauding and the fans followed, and then stood in a standing ovation for the team's defensive unit.

Captain Cain then took the platform amidst cheers. He introduced the seniors who came up one at a time to stand with him and receive their acclaim. After introducing the seniors, he called up the juniors one at a time, too. When all of them were on stage, he looked over the group and said humorously, "It seems like someone is missing."

The audience knew, too, who was not there. They began chanting, "Tony - - Tony - - Tony." The noise drowned out whatever Cain was trying to say. Wayne just motioned for Tony to come to the platform too. He ran up the aisle to join his mates to the accompaniment of more loud cheers from the students.

If an applause meter had been used, it would have shown that the young back had about as much noise made when he was introduced as did all of the rest of the team together. The crowd went wild and wouldn't quit. There was no doubt about who was their favorite player.

After school the team met to decide a very important issue - - who would receive the "Most Valuable Player" trophy annually presented by the Booster Club. The procedure used in the selection was dictated by tradition. A secret ballot was to be taken by the team, sealed in an envelope without being counted, and then the envelope was to be opened at the banquet.

Coach Andrews tried to impress the team with the importance of the selection. "Most valuable should not necessarily be the most popular; it should be the one who did the most to help this team win. In this case it should be the one who did the most to help the team win the championship.

"Your choice this year is difficult because we have had many valuable players. The one who wins will remember this honor all of his life because this was a championship year."

The boys thought very seriously before they marked their ballots. Mr. Andrews collected the ballots and placed them in an envelope. He sealed it and put it in his pocket, not to be opened until the time of the presentation. Secrecy played a big part in the buildup for the award.

When the boys left the meeting, they began to compare notes. Some thought a lineman should get the award because the line was the most important. Several felt that Cain should get the award because he was the captain. "We need points to win. Tony should get it," said one of the backs.

Thus, the results were mixed and even the team members who did the voting couldn't be certain who had been chosen.

Tony had missed the practice last Thursday when the pictures were taken. Monday, during his Physical Education period, Tony dressed for the photographers. They not only made a special trip to take his picture, but they took many more pictures of him in a variety of poses. They expected to use them when he was named as the team's "most valuable."

Tickets to the banquet were sold out on Monday. A hurried conference by the committee made some changes to the plans. They changed the location from a church basement to the school cafeteria, which was the largest dining hall in the town and could hold a lot more people.

Even with the extra tickets many who would have liked to attend were not able to get in because there just wasn't enough space.

Those who could get tickets enjoyed a delicious meal before the program. After the dishes were cleared away the speeches began. Mr. Hammond gave the first talk. This time his tune had changed a little from what he had told the assembly. He dropped the line about not expecting the team to win and told the gathering that he had never given up faith in this team. He said, "I knew all the time that these boys were of championship caliber."

Other speakers included the president of the School Board, the Mayor of Foxville, the previous coach – now retired, a player from the championship team of 15 years before and a man who was listed on the program as "a fan." They all gave similar talks telling what they thought of the great team the school had this year. Some bragged of their small part in winning the championship.

The main speaker of the evening was one of the assistant coaches from the State University. He began his talk by relaying the best wishes of the University coach who was busy with his own team practice and couldn't attend. "The University coaches have had their eyes on this team," he reported, "There are two seniors on this team we want. We are not able to offer them a scholarship yet, but you'll be hearing from us before the year is over. We want to give them a full scholarship to the University to play football.

A murmur went around the hall when the people tried to decide which two seniors would get the offers.

"Sportsmanship" was the theme of the talk the coach gave. He reviewed many of the same ideas which Coach Andrews had been preaching all year. The main idea seemed to be that the important thing in athletics is "Not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game."

One of the stories he told made a deep impression on fans and players alike. The true story was about a play in a Rose Bowl game many years before. Few games are as important to a player as is the opportunity to play in the annual classic on New Year's Day. In one close game an end streaked down the sideline for a pass. He caught the pass and ran the remaining five yards to the end zone. The referee signaled a touchdown and the crowd began to cheer, but the boy who caught the ball walked out to the three-yard line and laid the ball down. Then he explained to the bewildered referee that he had stepped out of bounds at that spot.

"That," said the storyteller "is real sportsmanship. He would rather do what was correct than to be a hero." The results were also good, he reported. The team scored the touchdown and won.

After the main speech Coach Andrews was introduced to present football letters to the members of the team. In his remarks he again pointed out the team effort which won for the "Foxes." He emphasized, again, how important the defense had been.

Then, he permitted himself a moment of review. "I think you fellows will always remember this year. I know I'll remember it as the year of the reverse.

"We had plenty of reverses this year. Each time we were down, we found some way to reverse the trend. But, the reverse I'll remember most was the play you fellows worked so magically. I have never seen any team work the reverse as well as you fellows did this year. I'll never forget how silly it looked to see Tony running away from the defense on those reverses. Even when we didn't use it, the threat of the reverse worked for us, because it paved the way for the other plays."

Presenting letters took several minutes because Coach Andrews had a few words about each boy when he presented them with their award.

It was now time for the presentation of the "Most Valuable Player" trophy. The president of the Booster Club asked Coach Andrews for the envelope; which he in turn gave to a committee to count. While the counting was being done, the president spoke. He read a prepared speech about the award, the reason for presenting it and read a list of past winners.

Before he finished his speech, the committee had completed the count, but something seemed to be wrong. They were in a heated, whispering discussion. When the club president ended his talk the formal program halted while he entered the discussion. Everyone present wondered what the trouble was, but they could only guess.

"Mr. Andrews," called the President, "will you come here please?"

"Yes!" said Mr. Andrews when he arrived at the table.

The committee chairman whispered to the coach, "Can this be correct?"

"Tony didn't win! How can that be? Why everyone knows he was your best player."

"Certainly, it is correct," answered the coach indignantly. He did not know who his team had selected, but he would have been surprised if they had selected Tony. "I carried out the selection process just as you asked me to do. Those votes are the team's choice."

Again the committee and president put their heads together and buzzed for a few minutes while Coach Andrews stood nearby and the rest of the audience impatiently talked to themselves. Finally, the club president handed the coach a slip of paper and said, "Here it is, Coach. I guess you'll have to make the presentation because I can't think of anything to say about him. I was sure there would be no question about Tony winning it."

This act seemed like another insult, but Coach Andrews had an idea. "Tony, Tony Roanowski, will you come up here, please."

Tony hurried to the little platform obediently. The crowd applauded their approval but was unprepared for what was to follow.

"Tony," said the coach, "how would you like to present this trophy? Here is the winner," he said showing him the slip with the name.

"What should I say?"

"Just tell them why you think he should win it."

"O.K.," said Tony, "I'll try."

Coach Andrews addressed the assembly, "Most of you have your own ideas of who should win this trophy. I think Tony has some ideas, too. I have asked him to tell you why he thinks this boy (waving the slip) should win."

A wave of whispering swept over the group when they realized that their choice was not the same as the choice made by the team. Tony was obviously not going to get the award.

Tony began his little, unprepared speech slowly, almost afraid to hear his own voice come out on the public address system. "I told you once before that I couldn't make a speech. It's good they didn't tell me I had to do this ahead of time or I would not have come.

"Coach told me to tell you why I think Guts should get this trophy." When he said this much, everyone knew who the nominee was. This set off a very mild applause led by the team and followed, politely, by the others.

"Guts is the hardest tackler on our team. I know 'cause he practices on me in practice sometimes. When you watch a game, you don't see nobody getting past him. Most of the guys think he's the main reason our defense is so good.

"He don't only play defense either, he plays offense too. I know he's a real good blocker, 'cause he blocks for me on the reverse. When he blocks 'em, they stay blocked. We won the championship 'cause we scored more points than the other teams. The reason we did was 'cause our line was so good. Backs can't do nothin' without havin' the line open holes - - I found that out the hard way. And, Guts is the best in our line."

Having said this much, Tony turned to the coach and asked, "Is that O.K.?"

"Yes," said Coach Andrews, "That's fine."

Then, Tony had an afterthought. He moved to the microphone again and said, "Besides that, we all think Guts is a real swell guy."

Coach then called to Guts to come to the front. Presenting him with the trophy, Mr. Andrews said, "Guts, I can't say any more than Tony has said. You deserve this. Congratulations!"

Applause broke out in earnest when Guts took the trophy. "Speech - - speech," called some of the team members.

"Gee, I never expected this to happen to me. Why didn't you guys choose Cain or Small? They're better than I am."

"Well, all I can say is thanks," then he paused and couldn't continue so he took his seat while the assemblage cheered and clapped.

The president of the Booster Club took to the platform to close the program, "This has been a real good way to end a real good season," he began, "Tonight we have tried to honor the champions. I think Tony has shown us that there is more to this business of winning a championship than just running with the ball. Whatever it takes to win, our team had it."

