CHAPTER XIII
SYDNEY STUDIES STRATEGY
Neil was holding a levee. Livingston shared the couch with him. Fosterreclined in Paul's armchair. Sydney Burr sat in the protesting wickerrocker, his crutches beside him, and South, his countenance muchdisfigured by strips of surgeon's plaster, grinned steadily from thetable, where he sat and swung his feet. Paul was up-stairs in Cowan'sroom, for while he and Neil had quite made up their difference, andwhile Paul spent much of his leisure time with his chum, yet he stillcultivated the society of the big sophomore at intervals. Neil, however,believed he could discern a gradual lessening of Paul's regard forCowan, and was encouraged. He had grown to look upon his injury and theidleness it enforced with some degree of cheerfulness since it hadbrought about reconciliation between him and his roommate, and, as hebelieved, rescued the latter to some extent from the influence of Cowan.
"Doc says the shoulder is 'doing nicely,' whatever that may mean," Neilwas saying, "and that I will likely be able to get back to light worknext week." The announcement didn't sound very joyful, for it was nowonly the evening of the fourth day since the accident, and "next week"seemed a long way off to him.
"It was hard luck, old man," said South.
"Your sympathy's very dear to me," answered Neil, "but it would seemmore genuine if you'd stop grinning from ear to ear."
"Can't," replied South. "It's the plaster."
"He's been looking like the Cheshire cat for two days," said Livingston."You see, when they patched him up they asked if he was suffering muchagony, and he grinned that way just to show that he was a hero, andbefore he could get his face straight they had the plaster on. He getscredit for being much better natured than he really is."
"Credit!" said South. "I get worse than that. 'Sandy' saw me grinning athim in class yesterday and got as mad as a March hare; said I was'deesrespectful.'"
"But how did it happen?" asked Neil, struggling with his laughter.
"Lacrosse," replied South. "Murdoch was tending goal and I was trying toget the ball by him. I tripped over his stick and banged my face againsta goal-iron. That's all."
"Seems to me it's enough," said Foster. "What did you do to Murdoch?"South opened his eyes in innocent surprise.
"Nothing."
"Nothing be blowed, my boy. Murdoch's limping to beat the band."
"Oh!" grinned South. "That was afterward; he got mixed up with my stick,and, I fear, hurt his shins."
"Well," said Neil, when the laughter was over, "football seems deadlyenough, but I begin to think it's a parlor game for rainy eveningsalongside of lacrosse."
"There won't be many fellows left for the Robinson game," said Sydney,"if they keep on getting hurt."
"That's so," Livingston concurred. "Fletcher, White, Jewell, Brown,Stowell--who else?"
"Well, I'm not feeling well myself," said Foster.
"We were referring to _players_, Teddy, my love," replied South sweetly.
"Insulted!" cried Foster, leaping wildly to his feet. "It serves meright for associating with a lot of freshmen. Good-night, Fletcher, mywounded gladiator. Get well and come back to us; all will be forgiven."
"I'd like the chance of forgiving the fellow that jumped on myshoulder," said Neil. "I'd send him to join Murdoch."
"That's not nice," answered Foster gravely. "Forgive your enemies.Good-night, you cubs."
"Hold on," said Livingston, "I'm going your way. Good-night, Fletcher.Cheer up and get well. We need you and so does the team. Remember theclass is looking forward to seeing you win a few touch-downs in theRobinson game."
"Oh, I'll be all right," answered Neil, "and if they'll let me into thegame I'll do my best. Only--I'm afraid I'll be a bit stale when I getout again."
"Not you," declared Livingston heartily. "'Age can not wither nor customstale your infinite variety.'"
"That's a quotation from--somebody," said South accusingly. "'Fan' wantsus to think he made it up. Besides, I don't think it's correct; itshould be, 'Custom can not age nor wither stale your various interests.'Hold on, I'm not particular; I'll walk along with you two. But fortunesend we don't meet the Dean," he continued, as he slid to the floor. "Icalled on him Monday; a little affair of too many cuts; 'Mr. South,'said he sorrowfully, 'avoid two things while in college--idleness andevil associations.' I promised, fellows, and here I am breaking thatpromise. Farewell, Fletcher; bear up under your great load ofaffliction. Good-night, Burr. Kindly see that he gets his medicineregularly every seven minutes, and don't let him sleep in a draft;pajamas are much warmer."
"Come on, you grinning idiot," said Foster.
When the door had closed upon the three, Sydney placed his crutchesunder his arms and moved over to the chair beside the couch.
"Look here, Neil, you don't really think, do you, that you'll have anytrouble getting back into your place?"
"I hardly know. Of course two weeks of idleness makes a big difference.And besides, I'm losing a lot of practise. This new close-formation thatMills is teaching will be Greek to me."
"It's simple enough," said Sydney. "The backs are bunched right up tothe line, the halfs on each side of quarter, and the full justbehind him."
"Well, but I don't see--"
"Wait," interrupted Sydney, "I'll show you."
He drew a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and passed it to theother. Neil scowled over it a moment, and then looked up helplessly.
"What is it?" he asked. "Something weird in geometry?"
"No," laughed Sydney, "it's a play from close-formation. I drew it thismorning."
"Oh," said Neil. "Let's see; what--Here, explain it; where do I comein?"
"Why, your position is at the left of quarter, behind the center-guard,and a little farther back. Full stands directly behind quarter. See?"
"Pshaw! if we get into a crowd like that," said Neil, "we'll get alltied up."
"No you won't; not the way Mills and Devoe are teaching it. You see, theidea is to knife the backs through; there isn't any plunging to speak ofand not much hurdling. The forwards open up a hole, and almost beforethe ball's well in play one of the backs is squirming through. Quartergives you the ball at a hand-pass, always; there's no long passing done;except, of course, for a kick. Being right up to the line when playbegins it only takes you a fraction of a second to hit it; and then, ifthe hole's there you're through before the other side has opened theireyes. Of course, it all depends on speed and the ability of the line-mento make holes. You've got to be on your toes, and you've got to get offthem like a streak of lightning."
"Well, maybe it's all right," said Neil doubtfully, "but it looks likea mix-up. Who gets the ball in this play here?"
"Right half. Left half plunges through between left-guard and center tomake a diversion. Full-back goes through between left tackle and endahead of right half, who carries the ball. Quarter follows. Of coursethe play can be made around end instead. What do you think of it?"
"All right; but--I think I'd ought to have the ball."
"You would when the play went to the right," laughed Sydney. "The factis, I--this particular play hasn't been used. I sort of got it upmyself. I don't know whether it would be any good. I sometimes try myhand at inventing plays, just for fun, you know."
"Really?" exclaimed Neil. "Well, you are smart. I could no more draw allthose nice little cakes and pies and things than I could fly. And it--itlooks plausible, I think. But I'm no authority on this sort of thing.Are you going to show it to Devoe?"
"Oh, no; I dare say it's no use. It may be as old as the hills; Isuppose it is. It's hard to find anything new nowadays infootball plays."
"But you don't know," said Neil. "Maybe it's a good thing. I'll tellyou, Syd, you let me have this, and I'll show it to Mills."
"Oh, I'd rather not," protested Sydney, reddening. "Of course itdoesn't amount to anything; I dare say he's thought of it long ago."
"But maybe he hasn't," Neil persuaded. "Come, let me show it to him,like a good chap."
"Well-
-But couldn't you let him think you did it?"
"No; I'd be up a tree if he asked me to explain it. But don't you beafraid of Mills; he's a fine chap. Come and see me to-morrow night,will you?"
Sydney agreed, and, arising, swung himself across the study to where hiscoat and cap lay.
"By the way," he asked, "where's Paul to-night?"
"He's calling on Cowan," answered Neil.
Sydney looked as though he wanted to say something and didn't dare.Finally he found courage.
"I should think he'd stay in his room now that you're laid up," he said.
"Oh, he does," answered Neil. "Paul's all right, only he's abit--careless. I guess I've humored him too much. Good-night. Don'tforget to-morrow night."
Mills called the following forenoon. Ever since Neil's accident he hadmade it his duty to inquire daily after him, and the two were gettingvery well acquainted. Neil likened Mills to a crab--rather crusty on theoutside, he told himself, but all right when you got under the shell.Neil was getting under the shell.
To-day, after Neil had reported on his state of health and spirits, hebrought out Sydney's diagram. Mills examined it carefully, silently, forsome time. Then he nodded his head.
"Not bad; rather clever. Who did it; you?"
"No, I couldn't if I was to be killed. Sydney Burr did it. Maybe you'veseen him. A cripple; goes around on a tricycle."
"Yes, I've seen the boy. But does he--has he played?"
"Never; he's been a crip all his life." Mills opened his eyes inastonishment.
"Well, if that's so this is rather wonderful. It's a good play,Fletcher, but it's not original; that is, not altogether. But as far asBurr's concerned it is, of course. Look here, the fellow ought to beencouraged. I'll see him and tell him to try his hand again."
"He's coming here this evening," said Neil. "Perhaps you could look infor a moment?"
"I will. Let me take this; I want Jones to see it. He thinks he's awonder at diagrams," laughed Mills, "and I want to tell him this was gotup by a crippled freshman who has never kicked a ball!"
And so that evening Mills and Neil and Sydney gathered about the bigstudy-table and talked long about gridiron tactics and strategy and theart of inventing plays. Mills praised Sydney's production and encouragedhim to try again.
"But let me tell you first how we're situated," said the head coach, "sothat you will see just what we're after. Our material is good but light.Robinson will come into the field on the twenty-third weighing abouteight pounds more to a man in the line and ten pounds more behind it.That's bad enough, but she's going to play tackle-back about the waywe've taught the second eleven to play it. Her tackles will weigh aboutone hundred and eighty-five pounds each. She will take one of those men,range him up in front of our center-guard hole, and put two backs withhim, tandem fashion. When that trio, joined by the other half and thequarter, hits our line it's going right through it--that is, unless wecan find some means of stopping it. So far we haven't found that means.We've tried several things; we're still trying; but we haven't found theplay we want.
"If we're to win that game we've got to play on the defensive; we've gotto stop tackle-back and rely on an end run now and then and lots ofpunting to get us within goal distance. Then our play is to score by aquick run or a field-goal. The offense we're working up--we'll call itclose-formation for want of a better name--is, we think, the best we canfind. The idea is to open holes quickly and jab a runner through beforeour heavier and necessarily slower opponents can concentrate theirweight at the point of attack. For the close-formation we have, I think,plays covering every phase. And so, while a good offensive strategywill be welcome, yet what we stand in greatest need of is a play to stopRobinson's tackle-tandem. Now you apparently have ability in this line,Mr. Burr; and, what's more, you have the time to study the thing up.Supposing you try your hand and see what you can do. If you can findwhat we want--something that the rest of us can't find, by theway--you'll be doing as much, if not more, than any of us towardsecuring a victory over Robinson. And don't hesitate to come and see meif you find yourself in a quandary or whenever you've got anythingto show."
And Sydney trundled himself back to his room and sat up until aftermidnight puzzling his brains over the tackle-tandem play, finallydeciding that a better understanding of the play was necessary before hecould hope to discover its remedy. When he crawled into bed and closedhis tired eyes it was to see a confused jumble of orange-hued lines andcircles running riot in the darkness.