by Jim Andersen
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. Ca
n 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!”