Left Half Harmon

by Ralph Henry Barbour

  CHAPTER XVII

  M'NATT JOINS THE TEAM

  A great many years before the period of this story Alton Academymanufactured its own illuminating gas from gasoline by means of amachine in the basement of Academy Hall. The machine was connected bypipe with a gasoline tank set in a covered pit some sixty feet from thebuilding. One fine day there was trouble with the gasoline supply andone of the faculty members known as Old Grubby descended into the pitto investigate matters. Just what occurred down there was never known,but shortly after Old Grubby disappeared from sight he reappearedwith vastly more celerity, and his reappearance was accompanied by aviolent concussion that brought everyone rushing to the scene or to thedormitory windows. A fortunate few gained points of vantage in timeto see the teacher's ascent interrupted by the force of gravitationand to watch his return to earth. This happened at a point many feetdistant from the crater that had once been a brick-lined pit, and wasquite spectacular. Fortunately, aside from a severe shaking up, somecontusions and a nervous shock, Old Grubby was uninjured, although justat first it seemed to the horrified spectators that he had suffered adireful fate, since he had gone into the pit with a luxuriant growth ofdark hair on his head and had subsequently descended from his flightwith his scalp as bare and polished as a pale-pink billiard ball!None was more horror-stricken than the unfortunate gentleman himself,however, when he realized his plight. Clapping both hands to his head,he broke loose from the solicitous rescuers and ran agitatedly aroundin circles. Such extraordinary behavior on the part of an ordinarilysane gentleman was naturally adjudged to be the result of temporarydementia produced by the accident, and so, of course, all those who hadarrived on the scene took up the chase. Old Grubby dodged and eluded,giving vent to inarticulate ejaculations of dismay, and the chase mighthave continued for quite a while had he not finally, with a cry ofrelief and triumph, snatched a brown object from a lower branch of atree, clapped it on his shining head and dashed for his room.

  The incident created a remarkable sensation; not so much that portionconcerned with the interesting explosion of the gasoline tank asthe resultant revelation. For many years Old Grubby had managed todeceive the sharpest eyes in his classes and never had there been thefaintest of doubts expressed as to the naturalness of his beautifuldark brown locks. And then before the eyes of the whole school he hadbeen exposed! After the first shock of incredulous surprise, AltonAcademy roared and rocked with laughter. Students and faculty gaspedand gurgled fraternally, and you may well believe that the spectacleof the Principal seated on the lower step of Academy Hall, swayingrhythmically from side to side and holding his head in his hands, didnothing to quell the contagion. History has it that at the end of thatterm Old Grubby resigned and took himself to distant fields where hisprecious secret was not known.

  Now this has no place in the present narrative save as a prelude to thestatement that not since its occurrence had the School known such asensation as was caused by the appearance of Felix Adelbert McNatt as amember of the football squad!

  McNatt reported on Friday afternoon, clad in ancient regalia thatincluded the disreputable green sweater, and the news spread likewildfire. Society rooms, studies, tennis courts were deserted, and thestands beside the gridiron were so filled that you would have thoughtthe Big Game was in progress. Disbelief vanished as the unmistakableform of McNatt was descried on the field and amused conviction tookits place. "Hooray for McNutt!" shrilled an irrepressible freshman,and the audience cheered loudly. "Regular cheer, fellows!" bawled ajunior, "with nine 'McNatts'!" The response was thrilling, even ifthe "McNatts" became "McNutts" in the performance, and after that thenew candidate had only to move a hand or a long leg to be greeted byuproarious applause!

  Whether McNatt realized the sensation he was producing, or the natureof it, I can't say. At least, he gave no sign. Perhaps he thoughtthat every practice witnessed a similar loyal attendance and that theapplause that fell to him was no more than was generally accorded.McNatt, fortunately, was not self-conscious nor sensitive. If he hadbeen he might have found it difficult to perform the duties set him.As it was, he worked hard and faithfully and with surprising ability,proving at once that he had neither forgotten what he had formerlyknown of football nor had allowed his long absence from the game to puthim out of condition. He tackled the dummy with the rest of the squadand showed how it should be tackled, he swung a clever foot against theball and got thirty-five yards at a punt and he caught the returningpigskin with ease and certainty. In short, McNatt that Friday afternooncaused Coach Cade to stare and shake his head and almost rub his eyesand the audience along the sidelines to change their laughter toenthusiastic, ungrudging applause before the practice session was ended.

  A mere five minutes with a squad in formation drill taught McNattthe signals sufficiently for his purpose, and later, when the secondteam came across, filled with ambition and an overwhelming desireto see what all the laughing and cheering was about, and McNatt wasput in at full-back on the first, why, he made good from the firstmoment. He clung doggedly to that green sweater, though others weredown to canvas, and it shone resplendent in every play. Kruger, whosewont it was to take the ball for the second and go rearing throughinside or outside of tackle, saw his glory fade. The first time hetried it he ran straight into a green sweater. Those nearest heard anamazed "Whoof!" from Kruger, and then he was borne back and placedexpeditiously on the turf, and a chuckling referee added anotheryard to the distance to be gained. But the best came when the firstteam, having wrested the ball from a surprised second, sprang to theassault. Cochran gained three past left guard and then Tarver called onMcNatt. Gil said afterwards that the full-back got to him so quick thathe almost missed the pass. Bob and Stacey did their part, and then agreen streak passed between them, smashed into a luckless second teamguard, caromed off a tackle and proceeded down the field, spurningthe backs much as a cannon ball might treat the attentions of so manytoy terriers, and, with an easy if ungraceful stride, ate up theintervening sixty-seven yards and deposited the pigskin squarely behindthe goal. After which McNatt seated himself on the ball and waited forthe others to come along.

  Not for seasons of football on Alton Field had there been such a wildpaean of delight as arose to the blue October sky just then! Reversingthe usual order, McNatt had arisen from the ridiculous to the sublime,and Alton loved him for it! Joy and laughter were mingled in thatlong-continued outburst, continued since the sight of the elongatedMcNatt seated unconcernedly on the football down there moved theonlookers to new merriment. Cochran kicked a goal and the game wenton, and the audience breathlessly awaited another enlivening spectacle.But another such incident would have been too much for the Law ofProbabilities. McNatt smashed and wormed and twisted his way throughthe second team's astonished line time after time for good gains,but when eleven outraged and argus-eyed youths are watching for theappearance of one green-sweatered enemy that enemy hasn't much chanceof escaping detection and detention, and for that reason McNatt didn'tagain get free that afternoon. But he did gain every time he was giventhe ball, which is glory enough, while the fact that the opponentsplayed for McNatt every time the lines heaved afforded Cochran andMawson--or, later, Willard--an absence of attention that enabled themto do wonders.

  Before the end of the game McNatt was taken out, not, it appeared,because he was exhausted or had lost any of his enthusiasm, butprobably because Jake, the trainer, willed it so. After that he sat onthe bench, surrounded by admirers, and explained gravely his views onScience as a Foundation for Football.

  Yes, the advent of Felix Adelbert McNatt was certainly a sensation,and as such it served as a topic of conversation for not only therest of that day but for many days following. After the first flushof delight occasioned by the finding of such a wonder, captious onesasked why McNatt hadn't been discovered before, dwelling on the factthat he had been there right along and could have been discovered aslong ago as the season before last if those in charge of football hadknown their business! But on the whole the S
chool was much too wellpleased to indulge in criticism. The one weak position on the teamhad been strengthened and a victory over Kenly loomed large. Willardreceived almost tearful thanks from Joe and warm commendations from thecoach. The latter's evident gratitude gave Willard the courage to offeradvice. "You see, sir," he confided, "McNatt's got a lot of queer ideasabout how football ought to be played, and he really agreed to join theteam because he hopes to--to sort of reform things. He asked me if youwere the sort of man he could explain his theories to and I said youwere. So, if you don't mind, I guess it would be a pretty good planto sort of--sort of humor him, Mr. Cade, and let him tell you aboutScience."

  "He can tell me about Science and Art, too, if he will play the way heplayed yesterday!" replied the coach emphatically. "And if he can talkthe way he tackles I'll listen to him all night. And you may tell himso!"

  But McNatt was biding his time. He didn't mean to spoil his chances toput the game of football on a proper scientific basis by introducinghis ideas too early. He meant to erect a firm basis first, to showby the scientific playing of a single position the plausibility ofhis theory that all positions were capable of like treatment, bothindividually and collectively in the form of the team. Also, he wantedto establish cordial relations with the powers, the coach and captain,before beginning his proselytism. Meanwhile, as Willard learned later,he devoted much time to further study of the subject, collecting muchdata and drawing interesting if not altogether convincing conclusionsfrom it. As it turned out, McNatt was far too busy playing his positionas it should be played to do much more that season than drive theentering wedge of reform into the football situation. He spent allone evening in Mr. Cade's rooms on one occasion and expounded to hisheart's content, referring at intervals to a wealth of memoranda,and was listened to courteously and patiently. And on numerousother occasions he held forth to such as would listen, and, whilehis audience was secretly amused, outwardly his remarks met soberand reverent attention. Perhaps some day--even when you are readingthis story for all I know--McNatt will be hailed as the Prophet ofScientific Football and the game will be played according to his ideas.In which case, all I can say is that I shan't care to see it!

  The day after McNatt's first appearance with the team was the day ofthe Hillsport game. Hillsport School was a much smaller institutionthan Alton Academy, but it made up for lack of numbers by self-esteemand aggressiveness. It had held a place on Alton's football schedulefor four years, during which time it had met with one defeat, hadplayed one tie and had won one victory.

  The victory had come to it last year, on Alton Field, and in theecstasy of triumph the Hillsport supporters had tarried in town longenough to record that triumph for posterity. Loyal Altonians on theirway to church Sunday morning found to their horror and indignantsurprise that the legend: "H. S. 14, A. A. 6," appeared in large greencharacters on a dozen hitherto blank walls and boardings! The worst ofit was that the insulting inscriptions were there to stay. Perhaps theelements would, in the course of years, subdue, perhaps obliterate,those vivid brush streaks, but today they looked as glaring as theyhad on that first calm Sabbath morning. Alton had viewed and exclaimedand muttered vengefully for some days, but as time passed familiaritybred indifference, and now it was only when a visiting relativeinnocently asked the meaning of the cryptic signs that indignation anda thirst for revenge welled again in the Alton breast.

  Last year's defeat and those insulting green painted symbols ofdisgrace combined to form a mad desire for revenge this fall inthe heart of every Alton fellow. There were some whose outragedsensibilities even induced the opinion that a victory over Hillsportwas more to be desired than a triumph over that arch-enemy, Kenly Hall.This, however, was an extreme view held by only a few, although amongthe few were several representative minds: as, for instance, Mr. RobertWallace Newhall and Mr. Calvin Grainger. Mr. Newhall stated distinctlyand with much feeling, in the presence of Mr. Grainger, Mr. Myers, Mr.Proctor and Mr. Harmon, that if "we don't lick the tar out of thosefresh mutts tomorrow I won't come back here!" Mr. Grainger, who hadearnestly striven the preceding spring to wreak revenge on Hillsporton the baseball diamond, and had failed, applauded the sentiment, butothers, frivolous-minded persons like Martin Proctor and Joe Myers,expressed only derision.

  "What would you do, Bob?" asked Martin. "Stay over in Hillsport andblow up the school buildings?"

  "He knows blamed well," laughed Joe, "that he's safe. With old FelixMcNutt tearing holes in the line, Hillsport's got about the same chanceto escape a walloping as Bob has to get to heaven!"

  "I hope you're right," said Cal Grainger. "I'd feel disgraced if thosefresh guys licked us again."

  "They won't," Joe assured him. "Not this year. Boy, we've got a _team_now! With McNutt in there, that's a mighty pretty backfield, andKenly's going to know it three weeks from tomorrow!"

  "Three weeks!" exclaimed Willard. "Not really?"

  "Why not?"

  "But--but that's so soon! Gee, I thought the Kenly game was lotsfurther off!"

  "It isn't, though," answered Joe, shaking his head. "And those threeweeks will be gone before you know it, too. It's funny about that. Oneday you're in the middle of the season, and then, seems like it was thenext day, you wake up and the Big Game's right on top of you! It--itsort of scares you, too!"

  "Say, Joe, what's the real dope on Kenly this year, anyway?" asked Bobthoughtfully.

  Joe shrugged. "You know as much as I do. She's had about an averageseason, I guess. She's played five games, one more than we have, andhas lost two, won two and tied the other. You can't tell much aboutKenly until along toward the end of the season, any more than you canabout us. Last year she didn't look very good until the Lorimer game.Then she walked all over Lorimer to the tune of twenty-something tonothing. That was the week before we played her, you know, and it madeus sit up and take notice. But taking notice didn't do us much good,for she walloped us when our turn came."

  "The papers speak pretty well of her backs," observed Cal. "She has onefellow, I forget his name--"

  "Puckhaber?" asked Joe.

  "That's it, Puckhaber! Some name, I'll say! He's good, isn't he?"

  "He's all right, but he wasn't anything remarkable last fall. Westopped him as well as we stopped any of her backs. She's got a goodman in Timmons, though, her left end. He'll bear watching, fellows.Well, it's nine-thirty, Bob. Time to turn in. This may be your lastnight in the old school, son: better make the most of it!"