"Yes. I'll tell you how I feel. I feel as though I didn't want to bemayor at all if I can't be the youngest mayor ... you know."
She knew.
"Oh!" she cried. "Do upset Mr. Barlow's apple-cart. He's a horrid oldthing. Should I be the youngest mayoress?"
"Not by chalks!" said he. "Huskinson's sister was only sixteen."
"But that's only playing at being mayoress!" Nellie protested. "Anyhow,I do think you might be youngest mayor. Who settles it?"
"The Council, of course."
"Nobody likes Councillor Barlow."
"He 'll be still less liked when he 's wound up the Bursley FootballClub."
"Well, urge him on to wind it up, then. But I don't see what footballhas got to do with being mayor."
She endeavoured to look like a serious politician.
"You are nothing but a cuckoo," Denry pleasantly informed her."Football has got to do with everything. And it's been a disastrousmistake in my career that I 've never taken any interest in football.Old Barlow wants no urging on to wind up the Football Club. He'sabsolutely set on it. He 's lost too much over it. If I could stop himfrom winding it up, I might..."
"What?"
"I dunno."
She perceived that his idea was yet vague.
II
Not very many days afterwards the walls of Bursley sharply calledattention, by small blue and red posters (blue and red being thehistoric colours of the Bursley Football Club), to a public meetingwhich was to be held in the Town Hall, under the presidency of theMayor, to consider what steps could be taken to secure the future of theBursley Football Club.
There were two "great" football clubs in the Five Towns--Knype, one ofthe oldest clubs in England, and Bursley. Both were in the League,though Knype was in the first division while Bursley was only in thesecond. Both were, in fact, limited companies, engaged as much in thepursuit of dividends as in the practice of the one ancient and glorioussport which appeals to the reason and the heart of England. (Neitherever paid a dividend.) Both employed professionals, who, by a strangechance, were nearly all born in Scotland; and both also employedtrainers who before an important match took the teams off to ahydropathic establishment far, far distant from any public-house. (Thiswas called "training.") Now, whereas the Knype Club was strugglingalong fairly well, the Bursley Club had come to the end of itsresources. The great football public had practically deserted it. Theexplanation, of course, was that Bursley had been losing too manymatches. The great football public had no use for anything butvictories. It would treat its players like gods--so long as they won.But when they happened to lose, the great football public simply sulked.It did not kick a man that was down; it merely ignored him, well knowingthat the man could not get up without help. It cared nothing whateverfor fidelity, municipal patriotism, fair play, the chances of war, ordividends on capital. If it could see victories it would pay sixpence,but it would not pay sixpence to assist at defeats.
Still, when at a special general meeting of the Bursley Football Club,Limited, held at the registered offices, the Coffee House, Bursley,Councillor Barlow, J. P., chairman of the company since the creation ofthe League, announced that the directors had reluctantly come to theconclusion that they could not conscientiously embark on the dangerousrisks of the approaching season, and that it was the intention of thedirectors to wind up the Club, in default of adequate publicinterest--when Bursley read this in the _Signal_, the town was certainlyshocked. Was the famous club, then, to disappear for ever, and thefootball ground to be sold in plots and the grandstand for firewood?The shock was so severe that the death of Alderman Bloor (none the lessa mighty figure in Bursley) passed as a minor event.
Hence the advertisement of the meeting in the Town Hall caused joy andhope, and people said to themselves, "Something's bound to be done; theold Club can't go out like that." And everybody grew quite sentimental.And although nothing is supposed to be capable of filling Bursley TownHall except a political meeting and an old folks' treat, Bursley TownHall was as near full as made no matter for the football question. Manymen had cheerfully sacrificed a game of billiards and a glass of beer inorder to attend it.
The Mayor, in the chair, was a mild old gentleman who knew nothingwhatever about football and had probably never seen a football match;but it was essential that the meeting should have august patronage, andso the Mayor had been trapped and tamed. On the mere fact that he paidan annual subscription to the golf club certain parties built up thelegend that he was a true sportsman with the true interests of sport inhis soul.
He uttered a few phrases such as "the manly game," "old associations,""bound up with the history of England," "splendid fellows," "indomitablepluck," "dogged by misfortune" (indeed, he produced quite an impressionon the rude and grim audience), and then he called upon CouncillorBarlow to make a statement.
Councillor Barlow, on the Mayor's right, was a different kind of manfrom the Mayor. He was fifty and iron-grey, with whiskers, but nomoustache; short, stoutish, raspish.
He said nothing about manliness, pluck, history, or auld lang syne.
He said he had given his services as chairman to the Football Club forthirteen years; that he had taken up L2000 worth of shares in thecompany; and that, as at that moment the company's liabilities wouldexactly absorb its assets, his L2000 was worth exactly nothing. "Youmay say," he said, "I've lost that L2000 in thirteen years. That is,it's the same as if I 'd been steadily paying three pun' a week out ofmy own pocket to provide football matches that you chaps would n't takethe trouble to go and see. That's the straight of it! What have I gotfor my pains? Nothing but worries, and these!" (He pointed to his greyhairs.) "And I 'm not alone; there's others; and now I have to come anddefend myself at a public meeting. I 'm supposed not to have the bestinterests of football at heart. Me and my co-directors," he proceeded,with even a rougher raspishness, "have warned the town again and againwhat would happen if the matches weren't better patronised. And nowit's happened, and now it's too late, you want to _do_ something! Youcan't! It's too late. There 's only one thing the matter withfirst-class football in Bursley," he concluded, "and it is n't theplayers. It's the public--it's yourselves. You 're the most craven lotof tomfools that ever a big football club had to do with. When we losea match, what do you do? Do you come and encourage us next time? No,you stop away, and leave us fifty or sixty pound out of pocket on amatch, just to teach us better! Do you expect us to win every match?Why, Preston North End itself--" here he spoke solemnly, ofheroes--"Preston North End itself in its great days did n't win everymatch--it lost to Accrington. But did the Preston public desert it? No!You--you have n't got the pluck of a louse, nor the faithfulness of acat. You 've starved your Football Club to death, and now you call ameeting to weep and grumble. And you have the insolence to writeletters to the _Signal_ about bad management, forsooth! If anybody inthe hall thinks he can manage this Club better than me and myco-directors have done, I may say that we hold a majority of the shares,and we 'll part with the whole show to any clever person or persons whocare to take it off our hands at a bargain price. That's talking."
He sat down.
Silence fell. Even in the Five Towns a public meeting is seldom bulliedas Councillor Barlow had bullied that meeting. It was aghast.Councillor Barlow had never been popular: he had merely been respected;but thenceforward he became even less popular than before.
"I 'm sure we shall all find Councillor Barlow's heat quite excusable,"the Mayor diplomatically began.
"No heat at all," the councillor interrupted. "Simply cold truth!"
A number of speakers followed, and nearly all of them were against thedirectors. Some, with prodigious memories for every combination ofplayers in every match that had ever been played, sought to prove bydetailed instances that Councillor Barlow and his co-directors hadpersistently and regularly muddled their work during thirteenindustrious years. And they defended the insulted publ
ic by assertingthat no public that respected itself would pay sixpence to watch thewretched football provided by Councillor Barlow. They shouted that theteam wanted reconstituting, wanted new blood.
"Yes!" shouted Councillor Barlow in reply. "And how are you going to getnew blood, with transfer fees as high as they are now? You can't geteven an average good player for less than L200. Where 's the money tocome from? Anybody want to lend a thousand or so on second debentures?"
He laughed sneeringly.
No one showed a desire to invest in second debentures of the BursleyF.C. Ltd.
Still, speakers kept harping on the necessity of new blood in the team,and then others, bolder, harped on the necessity of new blood on theboard.
"Shares on sale!" cried the councillor. "Any buyers? Or," he added,"do you want something for nothing--as usual?"
At length a gentleman rose at the back of the hall.
"I don't pretend to be an expert on football," said he, "though I thinkit's a great game, but I should like to say a few words as to thisquestion of new blood."
The audience craned its neck.
"Will Mr. Councillor Machin kindly step up to the platform?" the Mayorsuggested.
And up Denry stepped.
The thought in every mind was: "What's he going to do? What's he got uphis sleeve--this time?"
"Three cheers for Machin!" people chanted gaily.
"Order!" said the Mayor.
Denry faced the audience. He was now accustomed to audiences. He said:
"If I 'm not mistaken, one of the greatest modern footballers is anative of this town."
And scores of voices yelled: "Ay! Callear! Callear! Greatest centreforward in England!"
"Yes," said Denry. "Callear is the man I mean. Callear left thedistrict, unfortunately for the district, at the age of nineteen, forLiverpool. And it was not till after he left that his astoundingabilities were perceived. It is n't too much to say that he made thefortune of Liverpool City. And I believe it is the fact that he scoredmore goals in three seasons than any other player has ever done in theLeague. Then, York County, which was in a tight place last year, boughthim from Liverpool for a high price, and, as all the world knows,Callear had his leg broken in the first match he played for his newclub. That just happened to be the ruin of the York Club, which is nowquite suddenly in bankruptcy (which happily we are not) and which isdisposing of its players. Gentlemen, I say that Callear ought to comeback to his native town. He is fitter than ever he was, and his properplace is in his native town."
Loud cheers!
"As captain and centre forward of the club of the Mother of the FiveTowns he would be an immense acquisition and attraction, and he wouldlead us to victory."
Renewed cheers!
"And how," demanded Councillor Barlow jumping up angrily, "are we to gethim back to his precious native town? Councillor Machin admits that heis not an expert on football. It will probably be news to him thatAston Villa have offered L700 to York for the transfer of Callear, andBlackburn Rovers have offered L750, and they 're fighting it out between'em. Any gentleman willing to put down L800 to buy Callear for Bursley?"he sneered. "I don't mind telling you that steam-engines and the Kinghimself couldn't get Callear into our Club."
"Quite finished?" Denry inquired, still standing.
Laughter, overtopped by Councillor Barlow's snort as he sat down.
Denry lifted his voice.
"Mr. Callear, will you be good enough to step forward and let us allhave a look at you?"
The effect of these apparently simple words surpassed any effectpreviously obtained by the most complex flights of oratory in that hall.A young, blushing, clumsy, long-limbed, small-bodied giant stumbledalong the central aisle and climbed the steps to the platform, whereDenry pointed him to a seat. He was recognised by all the true votariesof the game. And everybody said to everybody: "By Gosh! It's him rightenough. It's Callear!" And a vast astonishment and expectation of goodfortune filled the hall. Applause burst forth, and though no one knewwhat the appearance of Callear signified, the applause continued andwaxed.
"Good old Callear!" The hoarse shouts succeeded each other. "Good oldMachin!"
"Anyhow," said Denry, when the storm was stilled, "we 've got him here,without either steam-engines or his Majesty. Will the directors of theclub accept him?"
"And what about the transfer?" Councillor Barlow demanded.
"Would you accept him and try another season if you could get him free?"Denry retorted.
Councillor Barlow always knew his mind, and was never afraid to letother people share that knowledge.
"Yes," he said.
"Then I will see that you have the transfer free."
"But what about York?"
"I have settled with York provisionally," said Denry. "That is myaffair. I have returned from York to-day. Leave all that to me. Thistown has had many benefactors far more important than myself. But Ishall be able to claim this originality: I 'm the first to make apresent of a live man to the town. Gentlemen--Mr. Mayor--I venture tocall for three cheers for the greatest centre forward in England, ourfellow-townsman."
The scene, as the _Signal_ said, was unique.
And at the Sports Club and the other clubs afterwards men said to eachother: "No one but him would have thought of bringing Callear overspecially and showing him on the platform.... That's cost him abovetwopence, that has!"
Two days later a letter appeared in the _Signal_ (signed "FiatJustitia") suggesting that Denry, as some reward for his public spirit,ought to be the next mayor of Bursley, in place of Alderman Bloordeceased. The letter urged that he would make an admirable mayor, thesort of mayor the old town wanted in order to wake it up. And also itpointed out that Denry would be the youngest mayor that Bursley had everhad, and probably the youngest mayor in England that year. Thesentiment in the last idea appealed to the town. The town decided thatit would positively _like_ to have the youngest mayor it had ever had,and probably the youngest mayor in England that year. The _Signal_printed dozens of letters on the subject. When the Council met, moreinformally than formally, to choose a chief magistrate in place of thedead alderman, several councillors urged that what Bursley wanted was ayoung and _popular_ mayor. And in fine Councillor Barlow was shelved fora year. On the choice being published the entire town said: "Now we_shall_ have a mayoralty--and don't you forget it!"
And Denry said to Nellie:
"You 'll be mayoress to the youngest mayor, etc., my child. And it'scost me, including hotel and travelling expenses, eight hundred andeleven pounds six and sevenpence."
III
The rightness of the Council in selecting Denry as mayor was confirmedin a singular manner by the behaviour of the football and of Callear atthe opening match of the season.
It was a philanthropic match, between Bursley and Axe, for the benefitof a county orphanage, and, according to the custom of such matches, theball was formally kicked off by a celebrity, a pillar of society. Theceremony of kicking off has no sporting significance; the celebritymerely with gentleness propels the ball out of the white circle and thenflies for his life from the _melee_; but it is supposed to add to themoral splendour of the game. In the present instance the posters said:"Kick-off at 3.45 by Councillor E. H. Machin, Mayor-designate." Andindeed no other celebrity could have been decently selected. On thefine afternoon of the match Denry therefore discovered himself with anew football at his toes, a silk hat on his head, and twenty-twoHerculean players menacing him in attitudes expressive of an intentionto murder him. Bursley had lost the toss, and hence Denry had to kicktowards the Bursley goal. As the _Signal_ said, he "despatched thesphere" straight into the keeping of Callear, who as centre forward wasfacing him, and Callear was dodging down the field with it before theAxe players had finished admiring Denry's effrontery. Every reader willremember with a thrill the historic match in which the immortal JimmyBrown, on the last occasion when he captained B
lackburn Rovers, dribbledthe ball himself down the length of the field, scored a goal, and wenthome with the English Cup under his arm. Callear evidently intended toimitate the feat. He was entirely wrong. Dribbling tactics had beenkilled for ever, years before, by Preston North End, who invented the"passing" game. Yet Callear went on, and good luck seemed to float overhim like a cherub. Finally he shot; a wild, high shot; but there was anadverse wind which dragged the ball down, swept it round, and blew itinto the net. The first goal had been scored in twenty seconds! (Itwas also the last in the match.) Callear's reputation was established.Useless for solemn experts to point out that he had simply been larkingfor the gallery, and that the result was a shocking fluke--Callear'sreputation was established. He became at once the idol of the populace.As Denry walked gingerly off the field to the grandstand he too wasloudly cheered, and he could not help feeling that, somehow, it was hewho had scored that goal. And although nobody uttered the precisethought, most people did secretly think, as they gazed at the triumphantDenry, that a man who triumphed like that, because he triumphed likethat, was the right sort of man to be mayor, the kind of man theyneeded.
Denry became identified with the highest class of local football. Thisfact led to a curious crisis in the history of municipal manners. OnCorporation Sunday the mayor walks to church, preceded by the mace, andfollowed by the aldermen and councillors, the borough officials, thevolunteers, and the fire brigade; after all these, in the procession,come individuals known as prominent citizens. Now the first and secondelevens of the Bursley Football Club, headed by Callear, expressed theirdesire to occupy a place in Denry's mayoral procession; they felt thatsome public acknowledgment was due to the mayor for his services to thenational sport. Denry instantly agreed, with thanks: the notion seemedto him entirely admirable. Then some unfortunately-inspired parsonwrote to the _Signal_ to protest against professional footballersfollowing the chief magistrate of the borough to church. His argumentswere that such a thing was unheard of, and that football was the causeof a great deal of evil gambling. Some people were inclined to agreewith the protest, until Denry wrote to the _Signal_ and put a fewquestions: Was Bursley proud of its football team? Or was Bursleyashamed of its football team? Was the practice of football incompatiblewith good citizenship? Was there anything dishonourable in playingfootball? Ought professional footballers to be considered as socialpariahs? Was there any class of beings to whom the churches ought to beclosed?