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

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8 OAK. LILY AND IVY. into Francis’ unwilling ears until at last the would-be poet even began to take interest in the situation. Yet he believed that all this talk about the necessity of his joining the team was absolute rot”. He was only mildly conscious of his ability as a football player and thought all this hubbub about his declining to play was much ado about nothing. Besides, he had a deep-seated prejudice against football. His brother had narrowly escaped permanent injury in a foot¬ ball game the preceeding year, and he had resolved then and there never again to become a participant in the barbarous sport”. But he was only a boy of nineteen, and he had a strong strain of sporting blood in him which was yet be brought out. Before his brother’s injury, Francis had been a passionate lover of football and the affection had not wholly died out. Besidess, he had been an excellent player. Before coming to New York, he had attended a large Western univer¬ sity. As a freshman, he had shown great promise and in his sophomore and junior years had been the star of the team. It was only natural, therefore, that as Jim ' s and Perry’s appeals grew more and more frantic, he should feel strange stirrings in his breast, longings for something he could not define. However, he needed a more violent jolt than he had yet received to get him out of that poetic rut into which he had fallen and restore him to the active, red-blooded American boy he had once been. And he was destined to receive that jolt. Time passed, until it was only two days before the great game. That night Bancroft came to Francis and frantically begged him to alter his decision. How¬ ever, Francis was firm as cement. I do not care to have anything to do with football,” was the gently spok¬ en verdict, and though Perry pleaded and remonstrated and even threatened, it was of no avail. In fact, he felt as if he had run up against an obstacle, so strong and stubborn that it was futile to attempt to overcome it. Under these conditions, he departed, to dream that night that St. Tim’s” was beaten 127 to 0. The fateful day dawned with a clear sky but Perry’s heart was anything but light. The opposing team arrived promptly, escorted by a host of rooters. But the St. Tim” benches were crowded, too, with girls and fellows waving crimson banners and shouting encouraging words. At 3 o’clock the referee’s whistle tooted, the opposing captains shook hands, and the battle was on. It raged hot and heavy for the first few minutes, and then the warriors settled to hard, nerve racking work. The end of the first quarter, however, found the score 7 to 0 in favor of the Fisk men and at the end of the first half, it had jumped to 21 for Fisk Academy and the same degrading cipher for St. Tim’s.” As Bancroft dragged his weary limbs to the gymnasium, he thought de¬ spondently that there was little use playing the last half, for it would only make the score more ignominious and galling to the pride of the St. Tim” men. He was a failure, he told himself drearily, and his heart was heavy within him. It was then he heard his name called, and turning saw some one with whom he was perfecty sure he was not acquainted approaching him on the run and yelling breathlessly. But how could he be expected to recognize dreamy-eyed, poedc Francis Colcord in the excited, wide-awake lad approaching him? Gons wa; t ii

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OAK, LILY AND IVY. 7 “No, the Middle West,” Jim replied in the same tone. Perry sighed hope¬ lessly and rose. “Well, I guess Fll be toddling,” he said in a louder voice, and say, Colcord if you decide to accept my offer, come over to the field any afternoon and I’ll try you out.” Without lifting his head, Colcord replied succinctly “most assuredly not!” and Perry went out in an abashed silence and softly closed the door. The day appointed for the big game with Fisk University drew nearer and nearer and still no signs of bettering the team. “St. Tim’s” had won every game so far, but so had Fisk Academy, so Perry could draw but meager conso¬ lation from that fact. True, one afternoon Colcord had come out to watch the practice and by accident, the football bounded away out of reach of the players, shooting straight towards the sidelines. It was a nasty kick, the kind that bounces crookedly and is extremely hard to catch. But Francis moved a little way out on to the field, and as the pigskin bounded, he stepped backward, catching the ball neatly. Then, at the coach’s request, he returned the ball by a punt. And, oh, what a perfect kick! It sailed up—up—up—in a long curve, skimming along like a bird , and finally it dropped, landing exactly in the mid¬ dle of the group of players who had been watching the feat. Apparently, the same thought came to each of the pigskin chaser’s minds simultaneously, for they all exclaimed in unison “Very good Eddie!” and Colcord thought as he walked away, Guess they must have mistaken me for someone else, for they couldn’t possibly know my name is Francis Edward!” Great Scott,” soliloquized the young captain as he went off the field that night, By hook or crook, I must get that fellow on the team. I’ve heard some stories about the Fisk men, but I’d be ready to bet my bottom dollar that they haven’t a player who could hold a candle to Colcord. Maybe Jim could help me in the good work,” and he brightened a little, resolving to see Jim that very night. But Northrop could give him no encouragement. “You know I’m as crazy for football as you, Perry,” he protested, “and I’ve given Colcord football lore ’till it’s a wonder he doesn’t sing it in his sleep. He sure understands the situation by now. That is,” he added as an afterthought, if he understands anything. Sometimes, when he turns that ‘nobody home’ look on me full power, I have my doubts. But,” he continued seriously, he says that his aspirations are entirely along the literary line and I guess he’s tel¬ ling the truth. The other day he read me a poem of his that started like this: ‘I love to roam in the forests wild When the moan is shining bright And the wind is sighing thro’ the pines Like a dying soul in flight.’ He stopped there. Guess he thought I wasn’t an appreciative listener. I’d had enough anyhow. He sure would make a fine player though.” What Jim had told Perry was correct. He had hammered “footballology”

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OAK, LILY AND IVY. 9 blank, vacant stare from Colcord’s eyes; in its stead animation and determina¬ tion reigned supreme. Before he reached Bancroft, he started talking. I say, Perry,” he gasped, Lve changed my mind about playing. Although I don’t believe I can help any, you seem to think I can and I’d sacrifice myself a thousand times, rather than have those Fisk shrimps beat us; so won’t you please send me in?” “Won’t I?” cried Perry, You come right along with me, darling. Here, take my arm. Hurry up, before you change your mind.” He found a suit for Francis and sent him in with fervent prayers for his success. As soon as the third quarter started, a subtle change crept over the St. Timothy players. They had been in the Slough of Despondency, now they were in the seventh Heaven of Delight. Who, seeing Colcord’s playing could help feeling encouraged? He got the ball the first time it was snapped, ploughed straight through the Fisk line, knocking them right and left, and made for the distant goal past one—two—three players, he dodged, and now there was but one left between him and his heart’s desire. The remaining opponent was almost as large as Francis and he looked determined, but Francis looked sot”. Tie had made up his mind to carry that ball across the line and no football player or anything else was going to stop him. As the burly Fisk man approached, the boy dropped his too proud to fight” tactics and made no effort to edge away. Just as the fellow gathered himself for the tackle, Francis shot his right arm out and his open hand made good con¬ nection with the other man’s chin. The Fisk man promptly dropped to the ground. At last, the coast was clear and with both teams close to his heels, Francis leaped the final line, throwing himself flat on the ground, and hugging the precious ball close to his wildly beating heart. He had made the first touch¬ down, and though that would seem enough for one man for a little while, it was he who, a few moments later, kicked the goal. That was the beginning of St. Timothy’s run of success. When time was called the score stood 46 to 21 in favor of St. Tim’s”. If you listened intently, you could hear above the thun¬ derous cheering; What’s the matter with Colcord? Tie s all right.” —E. METCALF, ’20. OVERHEARD. I had just settled myself comfortably in an East-bound train when a little old-fashioned couple entered. “Come, Joshua,” I heard the woman say, 4 we’ll sit here on the left side,and then we can see our chimney first thing over the hill when we reach Madbury.” They had some difficulty in getting seated, for the new valise had to be carefully placed under the seat, the bandbox safely stowed in the hat rack,