The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [135]
“For Jesus sake!” Nate protested.
“Well, you were out, weren’t you?”
Nate groaned weakly, rose to tottering feet, and moved dazedly, with his head hanging as if his neck were broken. But he told Coach Hugo he would stick in the game and get those bastards. Coach Hugo called it the old ginger. Nate floundered into position over the ball, and his face became a mirror of jungle ferocity.
Hink Weber punted down the field, and it was the Monitors’ ball.
Studs took a defensive position, twenty yards behind the scrimmage line, and placed his hands on his hips. People in the crowd might notice how collected he seemed to be. He might get his chance to be spectacular. A fellow might break through, and Studs would stave off a touchdown with a flying tackle. Jewboy Schwartz started around the end, outran Tubby, who was boxed in, dodged Weary’s lunge with a side leap, graceful as an antelope, and tore towards Studs. Studs dashed forwards a few paces, arms encircled outwards and tensed himself. Schwartz came, fast. Five yards from Studs, Jewboy Schwartz performed a feint with his right foot. Studs lunged. Schwartz would have been free had he not slipped, and Studs, in his lunge, caught Schwartz’s foot. Jewboy dragged Studs along, and slipped free, but Dan Donoghue was up to make the tackle.
They patted Studs’ back for such nice work. Studs’ glow of pride quickly faded. He had been out-smarted, and the fellow would have been free to make a touchdown if he hadn’t slipped. He was only wearing street shoes. With cleats, he wouldn’t have slipped. Studs waited in back of the scrimmage line. Next time, the guy might make a monkey of him. If he was playing the other half, he might not break through as easily because Jim Nolan and Dan were better than Red and Tubby. Studs’ confidence seemed gone. The Jew was too speedy and clever for him. No, goddamn it, he’d leave his feet next time before that feint! Nail him! Studs moved forwards a few feet with the pass from center. Dan smeared the play for a loss. The teams lined up and Nate staggered into his place as defensive center.
The game see-sawed through the first quarter, slow, argumentative, marred by fumbles. On the last play of the period, Studs took a punt, ran forwards, swinging the ball from side to side for effect, running forwards, thinking he was making a long run, hearing cheering from the side, and … Jewboy Schwartz dove into him, his shoulder smashing Studs in the solar plexus. Studs went down with a thud, and lost the ball. His guts pained; he gasped. He slowly picked himself up, a sick expression on his face. The whistle saved him from having to call time out.
IV
Early in the second quarter, Jewboy Schwartz broke loose, and fleeted down the side line. Studs ran over, left his feet, smashed through the air as Schwartz sidestepped, and picked up speed again, rolled over offside four times in a histrionic effort to show the crowd that his try had been fearless and desperate, sat up and yelled to get him. Schwartz was over for a touchdown.
Studs’ shame and disappointment was lessened a little when he heard Tommy Doyle call that it was a good try. The kick for extra point was missed. Hink and Weary walked by Studs, into position. Hink said that they would have to slow the Jew up with some rough tackling. Weary declared that if he got his guts slapped a couple of times, he’d slow down because Jews were yellow. Nate ran awkwardly to Studs and started bawling him out. Studs told Nate to freeze it. Nate megaphoned to all of them that they had to fight now. Studs waited, hands on knees, worrying himself, forgetting the crowd, thinking that they had to win, had to stop that fast Jew.
The Cardinals pepped up and shouted after taking the ball to the Monitor thirty-yard line on four plays. They were going over now, but on the next play Art Hahn went through tackle, and he was stopped by Red Kelly who stood in his way. Nate