Gettysburg Academy - Osoga Yearbook (Gettysburg, PA)

Page 62 text:

19 AQA- -1- ------------- o s o G A -------------- ---34 Then followed the most wonderful exhibition of one-man football as had ever been seen before. The stands had never been in such a wild frenzy of excitement, and shouted them- selves hoarse, where before had been only disgust and despair. Truly The Fool was showing himself a perfect master of football. Not even the great Travers had been known to make such wonderful plays. Three minutes only now remained of the game and the Columbia supporters were calling, pleading, begging, for a touchdown. The Fool heard. The signals for Columbia were given. Straight as an arrow came the ball back to the half, who, holding it for a punt, seemed suddenly to change his mind and prepare for a pass, drawing back his arm. Even as he did so, The Fool, with action displayed in every fibre of his body snatched the ball from the halfback and tucking it under his arm dashed down the rough and broken field. Tackler after tackler was hurled aside by that dread, straight arm that never failed to clear a path. The stands went wild. A touchdown seemed imminent now. Columbia would win. Nearer and nearer The Fool came, gaining momentum at every stride, shaking of man after man until there was but one man between him and the coveted chalk line. The captain and quarterback, for such it was, cast a hurried look of despair about him and seeing no other man to help him, gave an exclamation of dismay. But gathering all the forces at his command he braced himself to meet the impact. Small benefit was the preparation though, for The Fool was not to be stopped by anything human now. He crashed into the quarterback with one mighty plunge that left the Brinston a huddled hgure on the field. Away sped the giant form with the ball tucked under his arm. The goal . . The goal . . . He would reach it now. Nothing could stop him. The great audience sprang to its feet. Hats were in the air. Strangers slapped each other on the back. The whole vast assembly made the grandstands fairly rock and the very earth quiver with one mighty roar of ex- citement. The Fool . . . Ah, where was the fool of him now . . Thirty-five thousand souls were proclaiming him im- mortal. l'But five yards now to the goal . . The once fool with triumphant features, plunged on. The hero of the moment heard the roars of approval, heard the cheers that rose in mighty crescendoes, and -- a shrill, pitiful scream from a front box where a woman sat with blanched, horror-stricken face, and who did not know the glory of a wonderful victory. He, who was about to snatch a glorious victory that would idolize him forever, had heard that voice before somewhere- somewhere on the campus, sitting beside a motherly old lady. He had also heard a woman's story. l'Five yards more... And the atmosphere was being rent with thirty-five thousand cheers for the wonder of him. But five yards more . . . And the huge, human tornado ap- peared to stumble and fall. The ball rolled, unheeded, to the sidelines. The fool of him had returned. A silence, the dead, terrible silence of the nonunderstand- ing fell upon the multitude. What was this? Did they really see this? Five yards only to the goal of a great victory and the man actually falling in a stupid heap. No, it could not be, It was incredible. Suddenly, as the fallen man arose, the shrill blast of a whistle cut the silence like a knife. The game was over .... Columbia had lost. Then, the mammoth audience awoke to the significance of it all. Yells of anger and scornful derision broke forth. Pandemonium spread over the grandstands and the field. Thousands lifted up their voices in cursing him. For a moment The Fool stood there. For a moment he stood there gazing upon the sea of wrathful faces, listening to the groans and hoots that were heralding for him disrepute for life . . . He lifted his great, good-natured visage to the skies in despair .... Then the fool of him mastered the rest of him forever, and he smiled-deliberately smiled, and strode calmly from the fieldf' The college man paused and drew a long breath. Well,'y remarked the drummer, 'twhat became of the widow's sonfw There was a brief silence. i'Gentlemen,i' said the college man, that widow's son was If' Again, a brief silence. UAnd yetf' mused the drummer, 'Tcl like to shake that fool by the hand. Heis my idea of a manf' ,QW .w vp if ,4Qa 'teresa vm N... .1 - I Q 4-,, an-7' 5581

Page 61 text:

19-M -------------- - o s o G A -------------- t34 unwaveringly confident of success. Speculators took advantage and fortunes were wagered. l'In the forenoon, The Fool, apparently the least concerned of all, strode lonely and silently as was his wont, across the campus. Reaching the opposite side, he gazed about him in the hope of finding an unoccupied bench. Such, however, could not be. The campus was teeming with life. All benches were occupied. The bench nearest him, however, held but one person, an elderly lady, dressed in black. Her face was pleas- ant, but deeply furrowed and unnaturally sorrowful. Ar the furthest end of this bench, the Columbian seated himself and gazed gloomily into space. To his surprise and annoyance, the lady addressed him. M 'Excuse me, sirf she began timidly, 'but you appear to be a student. Will you please tell me what side you think will win this game?' 'Columbiaf replied The Fool, briefly. Y' 'Oh, it mustnitf faltered the woman. 'It mustn't. What will I do?' 'Don't know mam,' said The Fool, his wonder getting the best of him. 'In trouble?' uAnd then the woman, as is the way of all who bear the burden of a grief unshared, burst into tears and sobbed out the story that she had known alone too long, thankful to have found at last a person who appeared to sympathize. 'QIt was pitiful, little tale that he listened to. The poor woman, it seemed was a widow. Of all the world's millions, she had but one to care for and to care for her. This was her son. To her, the boy was everything and when it became ap- parent that journalism was his forte, she desperately resolved that he should have a college education, poor though they were. Then came several long, weary years of hard, pitiless work for the boy, unselfish sacrifice and self-denial by the mother, and miserable pinchings for them both. But the money was finally saved and the boy fairly started on his career at Brinston University. With great economy, he would be able to com- plete the four years' course. Everything seemed bright untill- the thing happened. The boy was captain of the Brinston football team and of all its supporters the most zealous and confident. For him Brinston was supreme. There was no chance for defeat. Loudly he had proclaimed his faith. All knew of it. Yell leaders took him for a model of school spirit. He infused his team with the violence of it. A week before the Columbia-Brinston game came the crisis. He met at last a man who dared to declare in his face that Columbia's team was superior. Drunk with the excitement of argument, the foolish boy wagered his entire fortune on the outcome of the game. The Columbia man was wealthy and greedy. A less excited person held the notes. The act was done before a considerable number of the students. Before the eyes of honor, the wager was binding. Not once had the confident captain of the Brinstons felt a tinge of regret. For him it was a sure investment. His fortune would be doubled. He knew. But the widowed mother was not blinded by the artificial wis- dom of enthusiasm. She alone knew the tortures of doubt. She thought of the consequences of the loss of their little earnings, saw her boy forced from college, beheld him strug- gling in the world without the education that could alone bring him success, tasted the bitter scorn of those who would sneer and say, 'There is a fellow who might have had a career had he not gambled it awayf Yes, she, the mother, thought of all these things. She knew. To this grieved woman, The Fool listened as in a trance. His great face at first passive, became soft with the tenderness that the lonesome giant seldom felt. just the faintest trace of tears was in his eyes. just the faintest trace of a tremble was in his voice as he spoke. 'Madam,7 he said, KI had a mother-once. I have feelings and sympathy-but-' and here he stiffly rose from the bench, 'after all, what is the use? I cannot help you. In fact, I can not even hope that Brinston will win. You see I play on the Columbia team.' Then coldly and without even a glance backward, the huge Columbian strode away. But the widowis tale had somehow sunk deeply, for you see-he was a fool. The widow gazed after him, torn by two emotions. She was warmed by the evident sympathy of his first words and chilled to the heart by the cold revelation of his last, that he was actually a member of the team, that could cause her so much sorrow. And through it all she did not know that-he was a fool. 'lThe huge amphitheatre had never presented a more won- derful and impressive spectacle. The Blue and Gold of Columbia was flaring forth definace across the gridiron to the Orange and Black of Brinston. Cheers were echoing and re- echoing. The great game of the year, of football history, was on. Q'For the first three quarters of the game the two teams had battled for supremacy by all the will and strategy known to the greatest football players that ever graced cleats. Such playing had never been seen before. As yet neither side had been able to make a single score. 'lThe vast crowds were hushed in expectancy when the whistle blew, announcing the beginning of the fourth quarter. With the score even and both sides now positively crazed by the desire for victory, something was sure to occur. Then hap- pened the thing that the Columbian supporters were most praying against. Travers, the mighty captain of Columbia, the hero of the season, did not get up after a particularly fierce tackle, and when he did not get up after five, ten, and hfteen minutes, the stands groaned aloud. For who was there to go in, with the two regular 'subsi incapacitated, one from injury and the other from scholarship. Ar no time during the game had things looked darker for the Blue and Gold. Then, while the thousands of people wagered the chances of the various candidates getting into the game, wonder turned to amazement, and amazement to speechless paroxysms of despair, as amid deathlike silence The Fool, The Fool, above all persons, lurched lazily forward and made his way with uneven steps far down to the end of the field where the Columbians were gathered rallying for the last desperate stand. He was acknowledged by a curt nod from the rest of the players, but from Talbott, acting captain, he received one word, 'Fightf The game was again on. The Fool plunged into the com- bat. He, The Fool, took the position of Travers, the mighty football hero of Columbia. Loud were the murmurs unfounded, for The Fool was loyal to his title. The action had scarcely started, when he blundered, deeply and uselessly as was his way. The quarterback of Brinston drop-kicked the ball over Columbia had been the cross for the Hrst score of the game. scored against. The grandstands united in one mighty roar of protest. The Fool was houted at and hissed. And then it happened, No one knew it, neither the stands nor The Fool. But it did. The taunts of the grandstands had somehow awakened something else in him besides the fool of him. Something in him was to be set loose that had never been so before. It now only awaited the opportunity. The Brinstons, flushed with the triumph of the newly ac- quired score, were pushing themselves steadily to their oppo- nents, goal line. Ir seemed as though nothing could stop their terrific hammering charges. Around the end came the phalanx, well bunched and with a desperate light in their eyes. When, with a mighty upheaval and crash, the wedge was broken, the interference bowled out of the way and the runner hurled back for a loss of five yards. People in the stands rubbed their eyes and wondered. What was this? Was Travers back on the field? This time would tell, as again the flying wedge started intent on skirting the other wing, but again as before they were met by a human whirlwind, a huge red-eyed being, with a battering ram for a head, and a body of steel whip-cord. Again was the phalanx broken and scattered, and again was the runner thrown for a loss as with a fierce tackle, The Fool brought down the Brinston. The Fool had come to his own. . . E571

Page 63 text:

T---r -------- 'H-HOSOGAH' ------ ------ HUMQX, . Q 9 XXX? 2 l s QW t os, Qxw 1X0 X04- J I A A TYPICAL DAY AT GETTYSBURG ACADEMY Six-fifty-five arrives with the accompaniment of someone ringing a cowbell madly. Of course, no one pays any attention to it. Seven-thirty: A combination of plates rattling and frequent bursts of conversation are heard by the passerby. Eight o,clock: A hurried throwing together of blankets and tossing a pillow in the general direction of the head of the bed is called bed making. Eight-fifteen: Used for classes, study hall, or study in the rooms. Nine o'clock: Chapel consists of reading the Bible, praying, and waiting for a favorable announcement as a free night out for all or a lecture at eleven o'clock. Twelve-thirty: After a brief period of silence during the giving out of the mail, there is a grand rush for the dining hall. One o'clock: Majority of students go up town for one reason or another. Two o'clock: Classes, study hall, or room. For the adventurous youth, movies land demerits, if caught.j Three-thirty: Baseball, swimming, and all other sports, including study-hall. Six o,clock: During the course of supper one hears frequently the familiar phrase, Cookies downf' Seven-thirty: Study hall for many, room study for many, 'Knights out,' for a very few lucky ones. Nine-forty-five: Study hallls over, there is general visitation of students between rooms. Eleven o'clock: Lights out and numerous Academy night owls start out for unknown destinations. Three o,clock: The last night owl has Hnally gotten to bed and quiet reigns supreme over the Academy. T591