Well, a couple of trainloads came from Leighton on Saturday morning. They were a brave gang to make the trip, ’cause ninety-nine out of every hundred of ’em thought we’d be murdered.
Joe’s girl was in the crowd. I’d seen her lots of times and admired her from a distance, but I never saw her look prettier than when he introduced her to me in the hotel lobby that mornin’.
“Is there any hope?” she asked me.
“A little,” I said. “It’s right there with you.”
Then she and Joe looked at each other and smiled, and she said:
“Well, if he’s it we’ll win, sure.”
“We will if he keeps his head,” said I.
“Oh,” said she, “there’s no danger of his not doin’ that. It must be you haven’t heard how clever Joe is.”
“I can see right now that he’s clever,” said I. And they smiled again and walked away.
Well, I took the boys out to the field late, so they wouldn’t have time to get nervous. I gave ’em one final talkin’ to in the dressin’ room; and I got Joe and Bix off to one side and told ’em, for the five-thousandth time, what they were to do. My last word to Joe was:
“Don’t be afraid to take a shot,” I said. “If you’re in good position it’s better to try one on the first down than run the risk of losin’ the ball on a fumble.”
That’s how sure I was that he could score from the field. I wish now I hadn’t been so sure.
I won’t have to waste much time tellin’ you about the game. They had the wind in the first quarter, but Joe held his own at that. Big Carey was a whale. He not only stopped Eaton, but he spilled most of their open stuff before they could get it started. Only twice did Smith or Winslow get loose, and then Bixby nailed ’em before they’d gone far. But the ball was in our territory all the while and we didn’t do anything but kick. I was pullin’ for Smith to muff one of those high punts, but he was as sure as taxes.
Well, it looked pretty good. We’d have the wind the next quarter and then Joe’s foot would put us up somewhere close. I was so anxious to get that wind back of us that those first fifteen minutes seemed like a week. Finally it came time for us to change goals; and then, sure enough, Joe lifted one over Smith’s head and she rolled out of bounds on their six-yard line. They brought her in and made one play to get out in the middle of the field. Eaton kicked against the wind and Joe grabbed her for a fair catch on their thirty-five-yard line. He was off to the side quite a bit; so he sent Bix out to the middle with her on the first play and then he dropped back for his first try.
“Now we’ll see if he’s there in the pinch,” I said to myself.
He was. The ball went about twenty feet above the crossbar and right straight between the posts. I wish you could have heard that crowd! Our little bunch made more noise than the German Army, and the whole Pelham gang let out a groan. It sure was a shock to ’em. They’d never suspected we had a Brickley and they couldn’t have been more surprised if we’d come on the field in nightgowns. I looked over to where Joe Bentley, their coach, was standin’, and I could see him scowlin’ clear across the field.
Well, the rest of the period was all puntin’, and we gained every whack, but not enough to get us within range again. My boys were playin’ like crazy men on defense and our only danger was that they’d wear out and let up. I was tickled to death when the end of the half came and they had a chance to rest.
“You’re goin’ to be against the wind this next quarter,” I told ’em. “You’ll have to work your heads off for fifteen minutes more, and then you’ll get that old breeze back of you again and it’ll be all over but the shoutin’. They’ll try to rough you from now on, Joe. Keep out of their way all you can. That one long punt put you in right that time. Maybe you’ll have another piece of luck like that; but, if you don’t, remember, they haven’t seen any of our plays yet and they all ought to work—what there is of ’em. You’ll be All-America, Carey, if you keep goin’. Don’t ease up for a minute, boys! We’ve got ’em in a hole now and all you have to do is fight.”
I was right about their roughin’ Joe, but they were too smart to get caught at it. They didn’t bump him after he’d kicked; but occasionally they got a chance at him while Ashton and Warner were givin’ a demonstration of how to get stopped on a crossbuck. They’d come through and fall into my star performer as though it was an accident; and I might have thought it was if I hadn’t known it wasn’t. But Joe seemed to be standin’ the gaff all right. He never had to ask for time. Bixby, though, was dropped for the count twice in succession and I began worryin’ about him.
I could see that my whole bunch were gettin’ tired along in the last end of that third quarter, but I couldn’t relieve ’em, ’cause my substitutes were an awful bunch of cheese. I did send in one new tackle, with instructions to have somebody lay down after every play, so the boys could get plenty of rest.
