Milford High School - Oak Lily and Ivy Yearbook (Milford, MA)

Page 13 text:

Oak Lily and Ivy. 11 Lazy FitzHugh whistled a couple of times from his lofty seat on the wall, and immediately a little form rushed from the neighboring cottage. But Marie was petulant. Lazy wondered why. However, not until he was about to return home for supper did the bitter truth come out. Mr. FitzHugh requested that Miss O’Leary accompany him to the theatre Saturday evening and that peeved young lady refused to promise. This worried Lazy, so with characteristic blunt¬ ness, he blurted out the query, What’s the matter tonight anyway?” And out came the shocking allegation! “Hadn’t the paper publicly proclaimed him yel¬ low,’ breaking up his team’s efficiency just before an important game? And what consideration was he entitled to expect from her if this were the case?” Thunderstricken, Lazy denied the News’ assertion, promised to “show them” Saturday, and before he left he arrived at the understanding that only a victory Saturday could obtain that evening’s engagement Friday, Coach Harley surveyed his charges meditatively and dismissd them with a curt “That’s enough.’ 7 The man FitzHugh had certainly come back” strong—too strong in fact: the brilliant and daring personal attack which he made upon the scrubs was commendable, but there was absolute lack of team work. Coach Harley had his doubts. Westerley won the toss and elected to receive; the wind was with Weldon. Kelley booted the oval far back into Westerly’s territory, but it was received and carried forty yards before FitzHugh brought the runner to the ground. 54-16-3,” and a Westerley back shot around the end for ten yards. “11-47-5,” a cross-buck and the quarterback tore off thirty-five more. “Petey” Morris, Weldon’s quarter, pleaded with his line to stop them. Lazy ground his teeth; unquestionably Westerly had a good team. “47-22-8,” Lazy smashed the line and violently downed the opposing full back in whose arms the ball had been thrust. “Five yards loss,” he muttered, and, happily looking up, he found the fullback laughing in his face; the left-half was sitting on the ball behind the goal-posts. “Clever too,” commented Lazy. They lined up again, the whistle blew, Westerley kicked off, and plump in¬ to FitzHugh’s eager arms the oval dropped—and bounced out to be fallen on by a Westerly end. Lazy groaned in anguish. He didn’t believe now that he would go to that show tonight. “61-28-11,” the Westerly full-back pretended a punt, slipped the ball into the quarter’s arms instead, and he cariied it over for the second touchdown. 14-0. The first half ended with the score 17-0, Browning having dropped a goal for his team. Slowly Weldon dragged off the field. Coach Harley said not a word--which cut deeper than abuse. But Lazy had something to say. True, he had played “rotten” himself, but he’d retrieve yet. He instructed his quar¬ ter to make him work. The whistle blew. Weldon’s midget quarter made a splendid catch of the kick-off and ran it back twenty-five yards by wonderful and elusive wiggling and turning. “14-9- 62,” Lazy received the ball and smashed through for six yards with three West-

Page 12 text:

10 Oak , Lily and Ivy. “Lazy” stopped in sheer amazement: a sweet girlish voice on the opposite side of the garden wall had taken up the refrain. Recovering his voice and turn¬ ing aside toward the wall, he resumed (in perfect accompaniment with the sweet¬ voiced unknown)- “The joy almost divine, When like a rock we stand the shock And tackle ’hind the line.” Both singers stopped and Lazy mounted the barrier with an agile leap,-to meet the mischievous and friendly gaze of his new neighbor,-an extremely pret¬ ty maiden of eighteen years or so. The boy’s hand involuntarily stole to his head to remove the cap which was not there, and to call forth a hearty peal of laughter from his beautiful observer. The formality of an introduction was precluded by the young lady herself. Mr. FitzHugh?” Lazy acknowledged with a bow, vaguely wondering how this “dream” had recognized him so readily. “I’m Miss O’Leary, Marie O’Leary,” volunteered the girl. “Awfully glad to make,-” began Lazy but was halted in his formal ac¬ knowledgement by an avalanche of questions and information. “Are you the Mr. Fitzhugh who played on the Weldon High team last year? Wasn’t it too bad you didn’t win the Mid-County League pennant? I’m a sopho¬ more; I’m going to enter Weldon High tomorrow. I came from Springton. I like football best of all the sports. Do they allow anyone to watch the practice?” Lazy, at last recovering his composure, nodded in the affirmative. There ensued a conversation carried on almost entirely by the girl with an occasional comment by the youth. Lazy departed on very good terms with the world in general and thorough¬ ly enchanted by his new neighbor. Practice on Tuesday was ragged and Coach Harley severely criticised the team especially the giant half-back who, abstract¬ ed by a vision in crimson and white who gesticulated wildly from the sidelines, failed miserably in his half-hearted attempts to break through the “scrub” line. Wednesday the practice was less encouraging. Thursday, the coach was in despair, for on Saturday the first game with Westerly was scheduled and rumors came thick and fast that the neighboring school had a strong line and a clever back-field. Coach Harley withdrew Lazy FitzHugh from the game and escorting him to a far corner of the field, told him exactly what he thought of him. Con¬ sidering the fact that Harley had confidently massed the most plays so that Lazy, his best and most reliable backfield man, should bear the brunt of the enemies’ attack it was not strange that such terms as quitter,” yellow” and lying down” should figure largely in the conversation. But the speech was supposed to be strictly confidential and neither man noticed the diminutive freshman who, sneaking around to hear what was being said, took in the entire call-down, and who, after practice went down town and proceeded to inform everyone he knew and some people he did not know, that FitzHugh was a quitter”-and even the coach had called him yellow” in practice.

Page 14 text:

12 Oak, Lily and Ivy. erly players clinging to him. 14-8-47,” and Hannigan plowed through to gain first down. At last Lazy scored on a ramrod plunge; Petey” kicked the goal. Westerly received and Lazy “got” his man as he made the catch. Weldon held their opponents and secured the ball on downs on the 40 yard line. By superb running and clever “picking out the holes” Lazy won the plaudits of the crowd by a run of twenty-five yards. 15 to go. Weldon made it in three downs. “Petey” kicked the goal. Only three minutes to play! Lazy received the kick—the crowd watched him take it breathlessly. Tightly hugging the ball, FitzHugh raced for the far- distant goal. Out and out he veered, eluding six of his opponents. Then, when it seemed that he would race outside, he turned sharply toward the center of the field; two more, three more, passed. Big Browning waited on the twenty- yard line, but Lazy had no time to waste, so he raced for the side lines once more, easily eluding the slower Westerly man. On the ten-yard line waited Westerly’s last hope, Marty” Smith, the speedy quarter. Lazy knew he could not out-run him, so he plunged straight at him, using the straight arm.” Momentarily non-plussed, Martin succeeded in locking his arms about Lazy’s thighs. How¬ ever, he was small and FitzHugh dragged him five yards before he got a good downing hold. Even then Lazy did not give up: one step, two steps; Browning was coming, and only a few seconds of playing remained. With a terrific ef¬ fort, Lazy flung himself and his tackier forward. He fell, and reached the ball out as far as he could without releasing his hold. Was it over? Browning’s heavy body fell upon him and momentarily he lost track of all happenings. When he recovered he heard the umpire announcing the score. Weldon 20 Westerly 17 e In Row C a happy couple viewed Strongheart,” a football romance, and at 11.30 a pretty maiden bade an affectionate au revoir to her stalwart protector, who then vaulted the wall and approached his own domicile, humming softy the closing words of a very popular song: There may be joys in heaven, More tender and more tame; But I don’t care to go up there Unless they play the game. There’re gridirons down in Hades But even there I’d pine To be once more on this fair shore To tackle ’hind the line.” Jones, ’15