1922 Cedrus Yearbook

It was no doubt to be our hardest game,for Glendale had been scoring just as many victories as we had. By this time even the players had forgotten their misgivings and looked toward the Glendale game with much well-merited confidence. As the last week of the season approached and we gathered together all the loose ends of our play, we seemed to miss Al less and less. We had become accustomed to Dick's methods of play, and there was no doubt that he fitted well into the machine- like precision of the team. On the day before the game Dick's father came down; one could see by a single glance that he was just about tickled to death over Dick's achievements. He told us that if his son should lead the Riverside team to victory, he would be the proudest man in the world. We were all hanging around in the dressing-room when he said it; and somehow or other just at that moment I happened to glance at Bill Smith. There was a light in Bill's eyes which I couldn't quite understand; it seemed to ex- press satisfaction over a good deed done,and at the same time just a hint of doubt as to the wisdom of it. At the very start of the game it looked as if the question would be decided right away, for Riverside started off with a bang, taking the ball on the kick-off and ad- vancing it in a series of short dashes well past the center of the field. Our attack was smooth and precise, with a well-developed mower which for a time threatened to sweep everything before it. But suddenly, when we were apparently at the very height of our game, Glendale braced, and almost before we realized it, it was fourth down with two yards to go. But even then we didn't really worry about it, for we had been making three and four yards each time; and Dick decided, without a conference, to rush the ball rather than lose it on a punt. He barked out his signals, and we threw all the force of our attack into a desperate stab off-tackle. The Glendale line rose up to meet us, the teams clashed, and a whistle blew. But when the referee untangled the mass of play- ers and turned to where the head linesmanwas standing, he waved his hand toward the Riverside end of the field. We had failed to make the distance by almost a yard. That finalpunch which Al Jenson had always managed to draw out of us had been lacking. We had lost the ball on downs and only two yards to go. In the few seconds which we waited for the other team to commence its offense, I believe every player grasped the significance of our failure, Captain Bill included. Then the Glendale team threw itself against our line. The Riverside forwards, uncertain and just a little puzzled, gave away involun- tarily; and a half slipped thru for a clean twelve yards. Then we braced. They were forced to punt, but we could make no steady advance. The players began to feel that they were being cheated t that the one man who could bring them to the height of their effectiveness was being kept out of the game unfairly. They played hard, giving freely of their strength and skill; but as the game con- tinued, their efforts slackened unconsciously. Gradually Glendale forced its way down the field, gaining ground on every exchange of punts, pushing us back until we stood in the very shadow of our goal posts. And then, with Dick standing beneath the crossbar, his face pale and his husky voice framing vague urgings, they gathered themselves for one final drive and sent their halfback squirming, twisting his way over the line for a touchdown. A minute later they missed goal and the score stood six to nothing in their favor. That was the only score of the half. A few minutes later the whistle blew, and we trotted to the dressing-rooms to throw ourselves wearily upon the benches and listen to the words of the coach. He told us of our mistakes and the chances we had lost, but we paid only indif- ferent attention to what he was saying. No one said a word; we just sat there and waited for the intermission to end. And then, for some reason or other, I think it was to get a new shoe-lace, Dick stepped into an adjoining room. The tension snapped. Men moved about restlessly, mumbling to one another; until finally Ted Andrews, our center, voiced the one thought uppermost in all our minds. "If Al was only in the game," he said,"we'd wallop the tar out of them. Dick can't get us going." Perhaps he spoke louder than he intended, or perhaps he raised his voice pur- (Continued on Page 117) 78