The Dub

by Ralph Henry Barbour

"BRIGGS, Bayard Newlyn, Hammondsport, Ill., I L, H 24."That's the way the catalogue put it. Mostly, though, he was called "Bi"Briggs. He was six feet and one inch tall and weighed one hundred andninety-four pounds, and was built by an all-wise Providence to play guard.Graduate coaches used to get together on the side line and figure out whatwe'd do to Yale if we had eleven men like Bi.Then after they'd watched Bi play a while they'd want to kick him.He got started all wrong, Bi did. He came to college from a Westernuniversity and entered the junior class. That was his first mistake. Afellow can't butt in at the beginning of the third year and expect to troteven with fellows who have been there two years. It takes a chap one yearto get shaken down and another year to get set up. By the time Bi waswriting his "life" he had just about learned the rules.His second mistake was in joining the first society that saw his name inthe catalogue. It was a poor frat, and it queered Bi right away. I guess hemade other mistakes, too, but those were enough.In his junior year Bi was let alone. He was taking about every course anyof us had ever heard of--and several we hadn't--and had no time forfootball. We got licked for keeps that fall, and after the Crimson andthe Bulletin and the Graduates' Magazine and the newspapers had shownus just what ailed our system of coaching, we started to reorganize things.We hadn't reorganized for two years, and it was about time. The new coachwas a chap who hadn't made the Varsity when he was in college, but who wassupposed to have football down to a fine point; to hear the fellows tellabout the new coach made you feel real sorry for Walter Camp. Well, hestarted in by kidnaping every man in college who weighed over a hundred andsixty-five. Bi didn't escape. Bi had played one year in the freshwatercollege at left tackle and knew a touchdown from a nose-guard, and that wasabout all. Bi was for refusing to have anything to do with football atfirst; said he was head-over-ears in study and hadn't the time. But theytold him all about his Duty to his College and Every Man into the Breach,and he relented. Bi was terribly good-natured. That was the main troublewith him.The fellows who did football for the papers fell in love with him on thespot. He was a good-looker, with sort of curly brown hair, nice eyes, aromantic nose, and cheeks like a pair of twenty-four-dollar AmericanBeauties, and his pictures looked fine and dandy in the papers. "BayardBriggs, Harvard's new candidate for guard, of whom the coaches expect greatthings." That's the way they put it. And they weren't far wrong. Thecoaches did expect great things from Bi; so did the rest of us. When theytook Bi from the second and put him in at right guard on the Varsity we allapproved.But there was trouble right away. Bi didn't seem to fit. They swapped himover to left guard, then they tried him at right tackle, then at rightguard again. Then they placed him gently but firmly back on the second. AndBi was quite happy and contented and disinterested during it all. Hedidn't mind when six coaches gathered about him and demanded to know whatwas the matter with him. He just shook his head and assured themgood-naturedly that he didn't know; and intimated by his manner that hedidn't care. When he came back to the second he seemed rather glad; I thinkhe felt as though he had got back home after a hard trip. He stayed rightwith us all the rest of the season.I think the trouble was that Bi never got it fully into his fool head thatit wasn't just fun--like puss-in-the-corner or blind-man's-buff. If youtalked to him about Retrieving Last Year's Overwhelming Defeat he'd smilepleasantly and come back with some silly remark about Political Economy orGovernment or other poppycock. I fancy Bi's father had told him that he wascoming to college to study, and Bi believed him.Of course, he didn't go to New Haven with us, He didn't have time. I wishedafterwards that I hadn't had time myself. Yale trimmed us 23 to 6.The papers threshed it all out again, and all the old grads who weren't tooweak to hold pens wrote to the Bulletin and explained where the troublelay. It looked for a while like another reorganization, but Cooper, the newcaptain, was different. He didn't get hysterical. Along about Christmastime, after everyone had got tired of guessing, he announced his new coach.His name was Hecker, and he had graduated so far back that the Crimsonhad to look up its old files to find out who he was. He had played righthalf two years, it seemed, but hadn't made any special hit, and Yale hadwon each year. The Herald said he was a successful lawyer in Tonawanda,New York. He didn't show up for spring practice; couldn't leave his work,Cooper explained. Bi didn't come out either. He couldn't leave his work.At the end of the year he graduated summa cum laude, or something likethat, and the Crimson said he was coming back to the Law School and wouldbe eligible for the team. Just as though it mattered.We showed up a week before college began and had practice twice a day. Atthe end of that week we knew a whole lot about Hecker. He was aboutthirty-six, kind of thin, wore glasses, and was a terror for work. When wecrawled back to showers after practice we'd call him every name we couldthink of. And half an hour later, if we met him crossing the Square, we'dbe haughty and stuck-up for a week if he remembered our names. He was alittle bit of all right, was Hecker. He was one of the quiet kind. He'dalways say "please," and if you didn't please mighty quick you'd be sittingon the bench all nicely snuggled up in a blanket before you knew what hadstruck you. That's the sort of Indian Hecker was, and we loved him.Ten days after college opened we had one hundred and twenty men on thefield. If Hecker heard of a likely chap and thought well of his looks, itwas all up with Mr. Chap. He was out on the gridiron biting holes in thesod before he knew it. That's what happened to Bi. One day Bi wasn't thereand the next day he was.We had two or three weeding-outs, and it got along toward the middle ofOctober, and Bi was still with us. We were shy on plunging halfs that falland so I got my chance at last. I had to fight hard, though, for I was upagainst Murray, last year's first sub. Then a provisional Varsity wasformed and the Second Team began doing business with Bi at right guardagain. The left guard on the Varsity was Bannen--"Slugger" Bannen. Hedidn't weigh within seven pounds of Bi, but he had springs inside of himand could get the jump on a flea. He was called "Slugger" because he lookedlike a prizefighter, but he was a gentle, harmless chap, and one of theEarnest Workers in the Christian Association. He could stick his fistthrough an oak panel same as you or I would put our fingers through a sheetof paper. And he did pretty much as he pleased with Bi. I'll bet, though,that Bi could have walked all over "Slugger" if he'd really tried. But hewas like an automobile and didn't know his own strength.We disposed of the usual ruck of small teams, and by the first of Novemberit was mighty plain that we had the best Eleven in years. But we didn'ttalk that way, and the general impression was that we had another one ofthe Beaten But Not Humiliated sort.A week before we went to Philadelphia I had a streak of good luck andsqueezed Murray out for keeps. Penn had a dandy team that year and we hadto work like anything to bring the ball home. It was nip and tuck to theend of the first half, neither side scoring. Then we went back and begankicking, and Cooper had the better of the other chap ten yards on a punt.Finally we got down to their twenty yards, and Saunders and I pulled ineight more of it. Then we took our tackles back and hammered out the onlyscore. But that didn't send our stock up much, because folks didn't knowhow good Penn was. But the Eli's coaches who saw the game weren't fooled alittle bit; only, as we hadn't played anything but the common or gardenvariety of football, they didn't get much to help them. We went back toCambridge and began to learn the higher branches.We were coming fast now, so fast that Hecker got scary and laid half theteam off for a day at a time. And that's how Bi got his chance again, andthrew it away just as he had last year. He played hard, but--oh, I don'tknow. Some fellow wrote once that unless you had football instinct you'dnever make a real top-notcher. I think maybe that's so. Maybe Bi didn'thave football instinct. Though I'll bet if some one had hammered it intohis head that it was business and not a parlor entertainment, he'd havebuckled down and done something. It wasn't that he was afraid ofpunishment; he'd take any amount and come back smiling. I came out of theLocker Building late that evening and Hecker and Cooper were just ahead ofme."What's the matter with this man"--Hecker glanced at his notebook--"thisman Briggs?" he asked."Briggs?" answered Cooper. "He's a dub; that's all--just a dub."That described him pretty well, I thought. By dub we didn't mean just a manwho couldn't play the game; we meant a man who knew how to play andwouldn't; a chap who couldn't be made to understand. Bi was a dub of thefirst water.We didn't have much trouble with Dartmouth that year. It was before she gotsassy and rude. Then there were two weeks of hard practice before the Yalegame. We had a new set of signals to learn and about half a dozen newplays. The weather got nice and cold and Hecker made the most of it. Wedidn't have time to feel chilly. One week went by, and then--it was aSunday morning, I remember--it came out that Corson, the Varsity rightguard, had been protested by Yale. It seemed that Corson had won a prize oftwo dollars and fifty cents about five years before for throwing the hammerat a picnic back in Pennsylvania. Well, there was a big shindy and theathletic committee got busy and considered his case. But Hecker didn't waitfor the committee to get through considering. He just turned Corson out andput in Blake, the first sub. On Tuesday the committee declared Corsonineligible and Blake sprained his knee in practice! With Corson and Blakeboth out of it, Hecker was up against it. He tried shifting "Slugger"Bannen over to right and putting the full back at left. Jordan, the Yaleleft guard, was the best in the world, and we needed a man that could standup against him. But "Slugger" was simply at sea on the right side of centerand so had to be put back again. After that the only thing in sight thatlooked the least bit like a right guard was Bayard Newlyn Briggs.They took Bi and put him on the Varsity, and forty-'leven coaches stoodover his defenseless form and hammered football into him for eight solidhours on Wednesday and Thursday. And Bi took it all like a little woollylamb, without a bleat. But it just made you sick to think what was going tohappen to Bi when Jordan got to work on him!We had our last practice Thursday, and that night we went to the Union andheard speeches and listened to the new songs. Pretty poor they were too;but that's got nothing to do with the story. Friday we mooned around untilafternoon and then had a few minutes of signal practice indoors. Bi lookeda little bit worried, I thought. Maybe it was just beginning to dawn on Methat it wasn't all a lark.What happened next morning I learned afterwards from Bi. Hecker sent forhim to come to his room, put him in a nice easy-chair, and then sat down infront of him. And he talked."I've sent for you, Mr. Briggs," began Hecker in his quiet way, "because ithas occurred to me that you don't altogether understand what we are goingto do this afternoon."Bi looked surprised."Play Yale, sir?""Incidentally; yes. But we are going to do more than play her; we are goingto beat her to a standstill; we are going to give her a drubbing that shewill look back upon for several years with painful emotion. It isn't oftenthat we have an opportunity to beat Yale, and I propose to make the best ofthis one. So kindly disabuse your mind of the idea that we are merely goingout to play a nice, exhilarating game of football. We are going to simplywipe up the earth with Yale!""Indeed?" murmured Bi politely."Quite so," answered the coach dryly, "I suppose you know that yourpresence on the team is a sheer accident? If you don't, allow me to tellyou candidly that if there had been anyone else in the college to put inCorson's place, we would never have called on you, Mr. Briggs."He let that soak in a minute. Then:"Have you ever heard of this man Jordan who will play opposite you to-day?"he asked."Yes, sir; a very good player, I understand.""A good player! My dear fellow, he's the best guard on a college team intwenty years. And you are going to play opposite him. Understand that?""Er--certainly," answered Bi, getting a bit uneasy."What are you going to do about it?""Do? Why, I shall do the best I can, Mr. Hecker. I don't suppose I am anymatch for Jordan, but I shall try----""Stop that! Don't you dare talk to me of doing the best you can!" said thecoach, shaking a finger under Bi's nose--"for all the world," as Bi told meafterwards, "as though he was trying to make me mad!" "'Best you can' behanged! You've got to do better than you can, a hundred per cent betterthan you can, ever did, or ever will again! That's what you've got to do!You've got to fight from the first whistle to the last without a let-up!You've got to remember every instant that if you don't, we are going to bebeaten! You've got to make Jordan look like a base imitation before thefirst half is over! That's what you've got to do, my boy!""But it isn't fair!" protested Bi. "You know yourself that Jordan canoutplay me, sir!""I know it? I know nothing of the sort. Look at yourself! Look at yourweight and your build! Look at those arms and legs of yours! Look at thosemuscles! And you dare to sit there, like a squeaking kid, and tell me thatJordan can outplay you! What have you got your strength for? What have wepounded football into you for?"Over went his chair and he was shaking his finger within an inch of Bi'sface, his eyes blazing behind his glasses."Shall I tell you what's the matter with you, Briggs? Shall I tell you whywe wouldn't have chosen you if there had been anyone else? Because you're acoward--a rank, measly coward, sir!"Bi's face went white and he got up slowly out of his chair."That will do, sir," he said softly, like a tiger-puss purring. "You'vedone what no one else has ever done, Mr. Hecker. You've called me a coward.You're in authority and I have no redress--now. But after to-day--" Hestopped and laughed unpleasantly. "I'll see you again, sir.""Heroics!" sneered the coach. "They don't impress me, sir. I've said you'rea coward, and I stand by it. I repeat it. You are a coward, Briggs, anarrant coward."Bi gripped his hands and tried to keep the tears back."Coward, am I? What are you, I'd like to know? What are you when you takeadvantage of your position to throw insults at me? If you weren't the headcoach, I'd--I'd----""What would you do?" sneered Hecker."I'd kill you!" blazed Bi. "And I'll do it yet, you--you----""Tut, tut! That's enough, Briggs. You can't impose on me that way. Ihaven't watched you play football all the fall to be taken in now by yourmelodrama. But after to-day you will find me quite at your service,Mr.--Coward. And meanwhile we'll call this interview off, if you please.The door, Mr. Briggs!"Bi seized his hat from the table and faced Hecker. He was smiling now,smiling with a white, set, ugly face."Perhaps I am wrong," he said softly with a little laugh. "I think I am.Either that or you are lying. For if you are really willing to meet meafter to-day's game you are no coward, sir."Then he went out.We lined up at two o'clock.There was a huge crowd and a band. I didn't mind the crowd, but that bandgot me worried so, that I couldn't do a thing the first ten minutes. It'sfunny how a little thing like that will queer your game. One fellow I knewonce was off his game the whole first half because some idiot was flying akite over the field advertising some one's pills.We had the ball and began hammering at the Yale line and kept it up untilwe had reached her fifteen yards. Then she got together and stopped us;held us for downs in spite of all we could do. Then she kicked and westarted it all over again. It wasn't exciting football to watch, maybe, butit was the real thing with us. We had to work--Lord, how we had to work!And how we did work, too! We made good the next time, but it took usfifteen minutes to get back down the field. Cooper himself went over forthat first touchdown. Maybe the crowd didn't shout! Talk about noise! I'dnever heard any before! It was so unexpected, you see, for almost everyonehad thought Yale was going to do her usual stunt and rip us to pieces. Butin that first half she was on the defensive every moment. Seven times shehad the ball in that first thirty-five minutes, but she could no more keepit than she could fly. Altogether she gained eighteen yards in that half.It was one-sided, if you like, but it was no picnic. It was hammer andtongs from first to last--man's work and lots of it.We didn't rely on tricks, but went at her center and guards and just worethem down. And when that first half was over--11-0 was the score--the gloryof one Jordan was as a last season's straw hat. A new star blazed in thefootball firmament; and it was in the constellation of Harvard and its namewas Bi Briggs. What I'm telling you is history, and you needn't take myword alone for it. I never really saw a man play guard before that day--andI'd watched lots of fellows try. Bi was a cyclone. To see him charge intoJordan--and get the jump on him every time--was alone worth the price ofadmission. And as for blocking, he was a stone wall, and that's all thereis to it. Never once did the Elis get through him. He held the line on hisside as stiff as a poker until quarter had got the ball away, and then hemixed things up with the redoubtable Jordan, and you could almost see thefur fly! Play? O my! He was simply great! And the rest of us, watching whenwe had a chance, just felt our eyes popping out. And all the time hesmiled; smiled when he went charging through the blue line, smiled when hetook Toppan on his shoulder and hurled him over the mix-up for six yards,smiled when we pulled him out of a pile-up looking like a badly butcheredbeef, and still smiled when we trotted of the field in a chaos of sound.But that smile wasn't pretty. I guess he was thinking most of the time ofHecker; and maybe sometimes he got Hecker and Jordan mixed up.When we came back for the second half we weren't yet out of the woods, andwe knew it. We knew that Yale would forget that she was bruised andbattered and tired and would play harder than ever. And she did. And forjust about ten minutes I wouldn't have bet a copper on the game. Yale hadus on the run and plugged away until we were digging our toes into ourtwelve-yard line. Then we held her. After that, although she still playedthe game as though she didn't know she was beaten, she was never dangerous.We scored twice more in that half. When there was still ten minutes of playthe whistle blew, and Jordan, white, groggy, and weepy about the eyes, wasdragged off the field. Bi had sure used him rough, but I'm not pretendingJordan hadn't come back at him. Bi's face was something fierce. The bloodhad dried in flakes under his nose, one eye was out of commission, and hislip was bleeding where his tooth had gone through it. But he still smiled.When we trotted off for the last time the score board said: "Harvard, 22;Opponents, 0." And those blurry white figures up there paid for all thehard work of the year.It was past seven when we assembled for dinner. About all the old playersfor twenty years back were there and it sounded like a sewing circle. Biwas one of the last to come in. He pushed his way through the crowd aboutthe door, shaking off the fellows' hands, and strode across to where Heckerwas standing. Hecker saw him coming, but he only watched calmly. Bi stoppedin front of him, that same sort of ugly smile on his face."We've broken training, sir?" he asked quietly."Yes," answered the coach.Then Bi's hand swung around and that slap was heard all over the room.There was a moment of dead silence; then half a dozen of us grabbed Bi. Wethought he'd gone crazy, but he didn't try to shake us off. He just stoodthere and looked at Hecker. The coach never raised a hand and never changedhis expression--only one cheek was as red as the big flag at the end of theroom. He held up his hand and we quieted down."Gentlemen," he said, "Mr. Briggs was quite within his rights. Please donot interfere with him."We let Bi go."The incident demands explanation," continued the coach. "As you all know,we were left in a hole by the loss of Corson and Blake, and the only manwho seemed at all possible was Mr. Briggs. But Mr. Briggs, playing as hehad been playing all year, would have been no match for Jordan of Yale. Wetried every means we could think of to wake Mr. Briggs up. He had, I feltcertain, the ability to play football--winning football--but we couldn'tget it out of him. As a last resort I tried questionable means. I asked Mr.Briggs to call on me this morning. I told him we must win to-day, and thatin order to do so he would have to play better than he'd been doing. Hetold me that he would do his best, but that he knew himself no match forJordan. That spirit wouldn't have done, gentlemen, and I tried to changeit. I told Mr. Briggs that he was a coward, something I knew to be false. Iinsulted him over and again until only my authority as head coach kept himfrom trying to kill me. He told me he would do so when we had brokentraining and I promised to give him satisfaction. What I did is, I am wellaware, open to criticism. But our necessity was great and I stand ready toaccept any consequences. At least the result of today's contest in ameasure vindicates my method. You who saw Mr. Briggs play will, I am sure,find excuses for me. As for the gentleman himself, it remains with him tosay whether he will accept my apology for what passed this morning, takinginto consideration the strait in which we were placed and the results asshown, or whether he will demand other satisfaction."Half a hundred surprised, curious faces turned toward Bi, who, duringHecker's statement, had looked at first contemptuous, then bewildered, andfinally comprehending. For about ten seconds the room was as still as agraveyard. Then Bi stepped up with outstretched hand like a little man, andfor the second time that day we went crazy!Bi was hailed as the greatest guard of the year, and they put him on theAll-American team, but I don't think Bi cared a button. Anyhow, when theytried to get him to come out for the eleven the next fall he absolutelyrefused, and nothing anyone could say would budge him. He said he was toobusy.

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