Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1930-10-05

THEY lined up. On that play 1t was steve's
task to back up the line and protect the
passer. But this time the line must hold He
was on as the ball moved; he saw the defense
converging, as always, on Pete HumaSon. No
one was near him as he turned, on the 20-yard
line. The bali came to him, high and wide;
he flung up an arm: was just able to knock it
up and get under it as it came down. He had
it. a straight arm freed him from the only
tackler who reached him; he was over the Incl
He was conscious only Of his utter WEAKNESS
as they lined up TO receive the kickoff. 1t
hardly meant anything to him that he had
scored that the score was now seven to three,
with perhaps two minutes left TO play. Then
he heard his name being called and saw Hyden,
his substitute.
He took on his head-guard and walked of
the held-to be stopped by q vast roar of well
come from the stands, by baying Of his own
name, by the sight Of crazy substitutes leaping
up and down.
Grinning, abashed. he want on. Thurston
flung an arm about him, slapped him on the
back. He settled down, blanket about his
body, to watch the last few plays. Then It was
over; he was part Of the wild rush to escape
the maddened, joyous crowd that came tum-
bling down from the stands. Gradually he
understood that they thought 1t was his doing.
Roti He'd just had o bunch; the whole team
had played it.
Not So though, did the team and the coaches
and the papers see it. He came out of the
steaming shower room and q score of maniacs
danced around him. Then Pete Humason was
standing on a bench calling the team together.
And before Steve knew what was doing they
had unanimously elected him to the captaincy
that Arnold, 80, had held generation earlier.
Steve Arnold was human, and, for all his de-
tached adult point Of view, he was still, after
all, boy. There was a thrill about those
frantic minutes in the field house. Captainl
The greatest of the word, just as word
mastered him AS he tried to say something to
thank them, it was in him to be glad that
Arnold, 81, had, after all, trodden the path
that Arnold, '99, had blaZed for him.
But, with the passing of time, he did, in a
measure, forget the thrill of that November eve
ming, and there grew in him realization and a
resentment of what the foot ball captaincy
actually meant to him. He hadn't sought the
captaincy; hadn't wanted it. Only the acci-
dent of that last-minute inspiration of his had
given it to him.
The captaincy, even with the next season
full year away weighed him down; enforced
changes in the way of life that he had chosen
for himself. AS a mere member OF winning
team, he might have escaped rallies, dinners,
given by alumni in New York and other towns;
as captain-elect he had to show himself, to
speak, to play his part in the ritual.
Yet with an increasing irritability, he real
lied, too, that he was, after all, only figure
head. He was captain, but no problems of
leadership presented themselves to him. The
coaches controlled the team: the coaches and
the organization, headed by a graduate man
ager.
1t was at the Junior Prom, that his cap
taincy compelled him to attend, that, for the !
first time, Steve really spoke to Anne Vents
worth. He'd met her beforehand deliberately
avoided opportunities to meet her again. She