12 Sports Aces, January 1943 — page 35: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

128A out of the play. The green shirt picked up his interference and went forty yards down the fleld to score. The attempted place-kick sailed wide of the bar, The minutes of the quarter were ebb- mg away when Coach Haley stared down the bench at @hick, Haley didn’t say a ~ word. He jerked a finger at Chick, handed him his card, Middleton punched their way down to the Bluefield’s seven yard line. It looked like the end of Bluefield’s slim chanee of pulling the game out of the fire, Chick erouched at the left end position, his legs coiled springs under him, It was a new feeling, a new experience for Chick. Something inside of him was stirring, The enemy was in front of him and even his own - teammates were his enemies. That was okay with Chick. The ball snapped back. The leather- lugger reaehed Chick, sliding inside of tackle. But there was Chick, slashing and bringing him down behind the line. Mid- _@dleton slammed a power smash at tackle. Again Chick moved into the fury of the play, driving the runner hard to the turf. It was third down and fifteen to go. Middleton lined up and Chick sensed what was coming. The play unfolded and it was the same buck-lateral that had fooled Moose_ Bradley, But Chick was ready for it. He drifted a few steps. The blockers came and Chick smashed headiong into them, Art Eiliot slapped the stopper on the Middleton back. Middleton used up their fourth down, passing into the end zone, This time Chick faded, leaped high to bat it down.- He was a wildcat, Through the third and into the fourth period there was no semblance of a grin on Chick’s face, His uniform was dirty and sweat-soaked. He BENCH WARMER’S GRID GRUDGE 33 teamed with Art Elliot, opened a gap in the enemy forward wall and Al Jenkins raced through for twenty yards. Again, Jenkins ripped off anether hunk of yard- age through the same slot. When the Middleton linemen stopped Jenkins, he faded and fired a short, bulletlike heave to Chick. The minutes were ticking away and the shadows falling aeross the field. Al Jenkins took the ball from center, He faded back to the Middleton thirty-five. He chucked the pigskin, Two green-shirt- ed players raced at angles to cover Chick. Chick outfooted one of them, outreached the other. In the deep corner of the end zone he snatched the pigskin, pulled it to him, Touehdown! Al Jenkins booted a placement, Ht was good, Score: Bluefield 7, Middleton 6. That was the final seere. Chick stalked into the locker room. There was still some fight and fury in him, There was some left for Moose Bradley and Art Elliot. Chick strode over to Moose, jutted his jaw. “Okay, fella, get ’em up.” Moose’s reply was a grin that slid over his face, Then Coach Haley stepped in front of Chick. “Getting you heated up was tough enough, Chick,” he said, “Let’s net have any treuble cooling you off. But maybe- when you get an earful of what’s eoming at you; you’ll cool off yourself. Moose and - Art and the rest of the squad knew about your trying to make enemies. I told them. So we schemed on you before the game. So you’re really among friends.” A moment later it felt strange having the others pummel Chick on the back and tell him what a great guy he was. Chick had a different angle on team spirit, too. He’d be trying team spirit on the Japs soon. He’d find plenty of enemies there. - COMMicoaoks (E@