“Sure, Coach—” the lad said, “You bet ”
“O.K.—you’re the man.”
He looked all around again.
He called out, with a clap of his hands, “Let’s Go!”
And without another roar and whoops, and yells, the circle broke up and the players started taking their long laps around the field.
Calisthenics followed, for about half an hour.
Then kicking, receiving, passing, blocking, tackling practice.
Finally, the climax of it all—Scrimmage, where men were made out of boys.
Ponce loved this most of all, of course. All his theories were put to the test, and Tiger’s too. He wondered what would happen tonight, with the new plays. He set the portable blackboard up for the prescrimmage drill and briefing always given to the team by Tiger. He sent Billy King to the locker room for some chalk.
Tiger, after a few last-minute consultations with Ponce, talked to the boys for about ten minutes, outlining the new ideas, sketching them on the blackboard.
Then Scrimmage began.
Tiger was a demon of activity and surveillance. He was everywhere and saw everything, with Ponce's excellent assistance, of course. There was quite a crowd of spectators now. Any Carverton spies? Ponce wondered—not that he gave a damn, What difference would it make? He looked around though, in any event. He didn’t think he spotted any strange faces. Once he had mentioned this matter of spies to Tiger—he had only laughed, what a good laugh he had over it. It just didn’t worry him. Hell, send them all the plays, he had said. Just before the game we’ll change them all! How about that? And he had laughed some more. Since then, Ponce hadn’t really worried about iL
“Beep! What the hell are you doing there, BeepГ Tiger yelled out, in there in a flash, after a particularly furious onslaught unleashed by the offensive squad had been stopped dead in its tracks, amid a crashing, crunching, thumping, battering, yelling melee. Ponce stared, aghast. What a mess! Had Dink survived that mess? What about Pope? Tiger roared, "You're not supposed to he there! Christ, Beep, Look What you Did! LOOK! What'd I Just Tell You! WHERE YOU SUPPOSED TO BE? Beep! LISTEN TO ME! Ponce—C’mere, Ponce—SHOW HIM AGAIN!” And as Ponce jumped in to do just that, having spotted Beep’s bloop himself, as a matter of fact. Tiger turned his attention elsewhere, “Pope!” He yelled out, "What the hell kind of a decoy was that? It fell flat! C’mon, get off your back! You screwed up the works! Look I’ll show you once more—Watch This—And don't screw up anymore! Wanta get everybody killed? Christ! Pope! Like This—” And Tiger demonstrated expertly, to the lad, who had made it up off his back. And then, pulling Dink out from under a pile of defensive men—“You Handed Off Too SLOW! Dink! You're gonna get yourself Murdered! I told you so! Now look—listen—you have only a Split Second—Got that? And no more! What the hell you think I got Pope decoying for? How's Joe gonna go? Christ! Try it once more!” And on he went, up and down the team, pointing out this and that, not neglecting to praise those who had got it right. He hammered away, and had them do it again. And again. Until finally, breaking out of their huddle with their characteristic roar, everything went perfect, they were streaking for paydirt, and Tiger could be heard yelling loud, "Go! That’s right. Right, GO! GO JOE GO! ATTAWAY TO GO! THAT’S IT! Great! Beauti-
Pretty Maids All in a Row 269 fulf THAT’S BEAUTIFUL, GANG! GO GO! WERE ALL GO! GO!” They scored.
The whole team, Ponce, the crowd of spectators roared. . . .
48
Jim Green was thinking, Practice would be just about ending up, just about now, wonder what Tiger had figured out—when—
“What did you have for breakfast, Jim?” Folio asked.
The boy lifted his head and stared at the man. He had taken over from Surcher about fifteen minutes ago. He was fresh. Jim could see, plenty of go. They were really screwing him up though, he had lost a lot of his go. Where was Surcher? And Grady? Would he be seeing them again? Now, looking around the room, he saw them sitting in the semidarkness of shadows cast by the one light on in the room—directly above him, though not in his eyes. Folio himself was in that semidarkness too, in fact. Though nearby.
“Bacon and eggs,” answered the lad, almost in the mood to giggle at the inane question from the man. Where was his lawyer? What had gone wrong? Were these white pricks bottling him up? He wondered and worried about that. How long could it go on? What the hell was Surcher’s game? Just out to make a name?
“Well done?” Folio asked now.
Jim only stared. It was incredible. Could they go on all night?
“Sunny side up,” he answered now, just for the fun.
“What about the bacon?” He was asked.
He was hungry, alright, he suddenly realized. When would they come through with some food? Christ, they were going to be in hot water, when this was all over. He thought how he’d like to meet each of these pricks one day, especially Grady boy, all alone, in some nice quiet place, an alleyway say. . . . Would be great—just great—
“What bacon?” He asked, surprising himself. He was losing track.
“You said bacon and eggs, Didn’t you?”
Folio asked.
Jim stared at the man. . . .
Ponce, nearly home now, after Practice, felt pretty good. In fact, great. That had been a practice and a half, without a doubt of it. Even if somehow things got screwed up about Jim Green, he wasn’t all that worried anymore about the game. The plays he and Tiger had worked out had gone great. The boys were now right with them. Joe Moran was no Jim Green, that he knew, and everyone knew, but he was alright. He was only a Sophomore, after all. Ponce was sure proud of Tiger, the way he handled the team. Even now. He knew they would go out next week and win. In spite of everything. If Jim came back before then, great. Better than great. Though Ponce saw now it wouldn’t be a bad idea at all to let Joe play that game, just to give him a break, in any case. He was all keyed up, and would be hurt bad, to be pulled out at the last second say. Or even day. Ponce had mentioned this to Tiger, after Practice. And Tiger had said, after thinking a minute, that he might well be right. They had talked about a lot of things. For example, Ponce was worried about Dink’s Jump Pass On Three, which somehow Tiger didn't seem to have noticed out there. He had definitely gone to the right too far, and had only just got the pass away, each time. He had been dumped hard. Too far. Why had he done that? He had plenty of time, Beep had blocked beautifully, and A1 too, just like they were supposed to. Ponce hadn’t called Tiger’s attention to it at the time because he was on top of a couple of the defensive men, hollering away. And then Dink had called another play right away, one of Ponce’s new plays, as a matter of fact, and he had become involved and hadn’t recalled until back in the locker room. On that new play, Feef had blasted through a ten-foot hole, at least. It went great. What decoying work!
Ponce had just said so long to Dink and a few other boys, as a matter of fact, having walked home from Practice with them, as he often did. Dink lived just a block away, on Jefferson Lane. That was one quarterback Saw-yersville would have a job replacing! Ponce knew, and Tiger above all knew, and they were working on it already. Ken Smith, a Sophomore, was the boy they both had their hopes on. Tiger had only told him tonight he would stick him in next week in the second half, if things went O.K. in that first half, that is. Funny enough, Ponce just recalled, he hadn’t asked Tiger if he had contacted Surcher yet. . . . Maybe tonight, he would call him up, and ask. Though he knew there was nothing to worry about. He probably had, or would soon, if he hadn't, anyhow. . . . What a mess. . . . Ponce turned back to Football. He loved the game. He never realized just how much until he got out on the field each day and found himself totally involved in it, like Tiger almost, he mused, grinning to himself, if such a thing were at all possible. Tiger had casually mentioned something tonight after Practice that made him feel pretty great. He had said it might not be a bad idea if he, Ponce, gave some consideration to coming back to Sawyersville one day, after college of course—to teach, to write—and to give him a hand! He mentioned this after Ponce had said to him how much he was going to miss the old team one day, wrhen he went his way.