Santa Ana High School - Ariel Yearbook (Santa Ana, CA)

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THE ARIEL The father bought every morning three San Francisco papers and each morning the sporting items were read. The doctor had made up his mind that as soon as his son was injured he would take train for Palo Alto. He knew that it was coming, a mere matter of time. He only hoped that the injury would not be very serious-the lesson would be fully as effective. But he did not read of Andy's maiming. Instead, after two weeks, came frequent mention of a fight that was on for a vacancy in the varsity line between an old second team man named Miller and Freshman Mor- ton. There was one dispatch in the Examiner that the doctor clipped out and put away in his desk, and, it must be said, it was done in spite of himself with a slight feeling of fatherly pride. It read: Morton is making a heroic fight for the tackle position and receives unstinted praise from the coaches. He goes into every play with the aggressiveness of a tiger. His broad shoulders plough through the opposing team like a bull tearing through a greenhouse. VVhile lacking thegtechnical knowledge of the game that his rival possesses, he has a dash and abandon that has seldom been seen on the gridiron. In strength the freshman is unsur- passed on the field. The father did not know that the campus corres- pondents were writing at the rate of twenty-five cents to the column inch and was a little deceived when he read some of the things that were printed. But there was a contest on, though from the first even those on the side lines could predict the outcome. Andy had the fight in him. The coaches were pleased when they saw him up against it, for then he played his best game. That is what we need this year, said Coach Dare. Two days before the game the papers announced that the fresh- man had won out. The game was on. Thousands of people waved the Cardinal and other thousands waved the Blue and Gold. On one side of the field the rooting sections of the rival colleges yelled and sang. The band played, but what is the use of trying to describe the action and the excitement of a Big Game. For those who have seen no description is adequateg for those who have not seen--they would not understand. Then the two teams rushed on the Held, the California fellows first, in their new jerseys, followed a few minutes later by the Cardinal players. Across from the Stanford section was a dejected doctor as lonesome as though called to a funeral. As many another layman, Andy's father thought that the Big Game was the game in which the greatest havoc

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T H E A R I E L Then he sent a telegram to his father: I'm playing. He struck the Students' Employment Bureau for a job. The captain of the base- ball team heard about the resolution and handed him a job peeling potatoes in the basement of the Inn. That meant three hours of precious time a day, and all time is precious to a football man. It is not necessary to go into all the details of the next two months of Andy's life. He had hard things to do. Hard letters came to him and he had answers to write that came as near bringing tears to his eyes as anything could. Then there were hard things to be met on the campus. He lost his job at the Inn, he thought because he had no drag with the man who was then president of the club. Anyhow the man who took his place was a friend of the president and affiliated with him in one or two undergraduate organizations. Andy's room mate smiled and said, That is the way some people help an athlete out of a hole. But he was taken on at the Roble table. Miss Regan, the only girl he knew in the university, who was being rushed by two of the four sororities, seemed to be afraid that her old high school friend might rec- ognize her and when he leaned over her and ran off the bill of fare she did not seem to see him. Like many another freshman Miss Regan had failed to grasp Stanford ideals on her arrival beneath the Stanford arcades and like many another girl there came a time when she knew that many of the men of whom Stanford is proud slung hash for a liv- ing, and then she remembered her treatment of Andy with a quiver of conscience. Andy went into the freshman game at guard and played a strong game. Generally a man in the line has to play twice as hard as a back to receive bleacher and incidentally newspaper praise. But Andy played his game. The morning papers told how Stanford pulled a victory out of what was California's. There was a lot of how Smith went round the end for twenty yards, how a Sandow booted the pigskin over the tem- pestuous sea of struggling humanity to Higgins who fumbled, but the name of Andy Morton, right guard, was scarcely mentioned except when Harris of California went low into Morton for four yards, which Andy remembered with chagrin. i The Associated Press dispatches in the home paper, and later the San Francisco papers, were read by a Dr. Morton. There was a sigh of relief when he found no word concerning the death of his son Andy. In fact there was nothing to indicate that he had been carried off the field on a stretcher.

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THE ARIEL to limb and life would occur, for then the strife was fierce and the rivalry keen. Dr. Morton expected to see a general slaughter and he had come with his satchel as a duty he owed to his son. Without much doubt he was the only man among the thousands present who expected no pleas-- ure from the contest. The whistle blew and the ball sailed in the air straightto the Stan- ford fullback. As though shot from a catapult, down the field he came in the wake of his team mates' interference. Clash! Tear! Thump! And he was down, a dozen men sprawled about him. Dr. Morton was on his feet watching .with keen scrutiny for the form of his son stretched out. as he believed it would be, on the ground. His heart was still and a great anguish tore at his breast. Will he never get up F But Andy was safe. The signal for play was given and again the two teams smashed into each other with terrific force. Again and again. The ball was punted and caught by one of California's backfield who was thrown be- fore he had time to move by the Stanford tackle, Freshman Morton. Oh, my son, my son,', gasped the father. VVhat's the matter with Morton ? yelled the bleachers. He's all right l V But is he all right ? came anxiously from the father. Andy rose from the encounter and waited. One hand rested on his hip, the other raised his nose-guard from his face to allow freer breath- ing. All eyes were on him though he seemed not to know it. The atti- tude was picturesque and the movement suggestive of the strength of manhood. There were admiring words said by Blue and Gold sup- porters, and the father for the moment forgot his severe anxiety, and when there burst from the Stanford bleachers, Andy, Andy, Good boy, Andy li' which was answered from the California cohorts with, We like you, Morton ! there was a swell of pride beneath Dr. Morton's profes- sional vest. His son and flesh and blood was the idol in the eyes of thou- sands. The game went on and the field seemed less like a bull-ring than he had thought it ever could. He saw no gore, no stretchers. - He fathomed unconsciously the value of nose-guards, headgears and shoulder-pads. But still there was an anxiety. Neither side had scored the first half and much of the second was past. The tiers of fevered partisans held their breath as every signal rang from the lips of the quarter, and breathed freer with relief or dis- l I