The Gold Bat

"Outside!""Don't be an idiot, man. I bagged it first.""My dear chap, I've been waiting here a month.""When you fellows have _quite_ finished rotting about in front ofthat bath don't let _me_ detain you.""Anybody seen that sponge?""Well, look here"--this in a tone of compromise--"let's toss for it.""All right.

Odd man out."All of which, being interpreted, meant that the first match of theEaster term had just come to an end, and that those of the team who,being day boys, changed over at the pavilion, instead of performing theoperation at leisure and in comfort, as did the members of houses, werediscussing the vital question--who was to have first bath?

　　The Field Sports Committee at Wrykyn--that is, at the school whichstood some half-mile outside that town and took its name from it--werenot lavish in their expenditure as regarded the changing accommodationin the pavilion. Letters appeared in every second number of the_Wrykinian_, some short, others long, some from members of theschool, others from Old Boys, all protesting against the condition ofthe first, second, and third fifteen dressing-rooms. "Indignant" wouldinquire acidly, in half a page of small type, if the editor happened tobe aware that there was no hair-brush in the second room, and only halfa comb. "Disgusted O. W." would remark that when he came down with theWandering Zephyrs to play against the third fifteen, the water supplyhad suddenly and mysteriously failed, and the W.Z.'s had been obligedto go home as they were, in a state of primeval grime, and he thoughtthat this was "a very bad thing in a school of over six hundred boys",though what the number of boys had to do with the fact that there wasno water he omitted to explain. The editor would express his regret inbrackets, and things would go on as before.

　　There was only one bath in the first fifteen room, and there were onthe present occasion six claimants to it. And each claimant was of thefixed opinion that, whatever happened subsequently, he was going tohave it first. Finally, on the suggestion of Otway, who had reducedtossing to a fine art, a mystic game of Tommy Dodd was played. Otwayhaving triumphantly obtained first innings, the conversation revertedto the subject of the match.

　　The Easter term always opened with a scratch game against a mixed teamof masters and old boys, and the school usually won without any greatexertion. On this occasion the match had been rather more even than theaverage, and the team had only just pulled the thing off by a couple oftries to a goal. Otway expressed an opinion that the school had playedbadly.

　　"Why on earth don't you forwards let the ball out occasionally?" heasked. Otway was one of the first fifteen halves.

　　"They were so jolly heavy in the scrum," said Maurice, one of theforwards. "And when we did let it out, the outsides nearly alwaysmucked it.""Well, it wasn't the halves' fault. We always got it out to thecentres.""It wasn't the centres," put in Robinson. "They played awfully well.

　　Trevor was ripping.""Trevor always is," said Otway; "I should think he's about the bestcaptain we've had here for a long time. He's certainly one of the bestcentres.""Best there's been since Rivers-Jones," said Clephane.

　　Rivers-Jones was one of those players who mark an epoch. He had been inthe team fifteen years ago, and had left Wrykyn to captain Cambridgeand play three years in succession for Wales. The school regarded thestandard set by him as one that did not admit of comparison. Howevergood a Wrykyn centre three-quarter might be, the most he could hope tobe considered was "the best _since_ Rivers-Jones". "Since"Rivers-Jones, however, covered fifteen years, and to be looked on asthe best centre the school could boast of during that time, meantsomething. For Wrykyn knew how to play football.

　　Since it had been decided thus that the faults in the school attack didnot lie with the halves, forwards, or centres, it was more or lessevident that they must be attributable to the wings. And the search forthe weak spot was even further narrowed down by the general verdictthat Clowes, on the left wing, had played well. With a beautifulunanimity the six occupants of the first fifteen room came to theconclusion that the man who had let the team down that day had been theman on the right--Rand-Brown, to wit, of Seymour's.

　　"I'll bet he doesn't stay in the first long," said Clephane, who wasnow in the bath, _vice_ Otway, retired. "I suppose they had to tryhim, as he was the senior wing three-quarter of the second, but he's noearthly good.""He only got into the second because he's big," was Robinson's opinion.

　　"A man who's big and strong can always get his second colours.""Even if he's a funk, like Rand-Brown," said Clephane. "Did any of youchaps notice the way he let Paget through that time he scored for them?

　　He simply didn't attempt to tackle him. He could have brought him downlike a shot if he'd only gone for him. Paget was running straight alongthe touch-line, and hadn't any room to dodge. I know Trevor was jollysick about it. And then he let him through once before in just the sameway in the first half, only Trevor got round and stopped him. He wasrank.""Missed every other pass, too," said Otway.

　　Clephane summed up.

　　"He was rank," he said again. "Trevor won't keep him in the team long.""I wish Paget hadn't left," said Otway, referring to the wingthree-quarter who, by leaving unexpectedly at the end of the Christmasterm, had let Rand-Brown into the team. His loss was likely to be felt.

　　Up till Christmas Wrykyn had done well, and Paget had been their scoringman. Rand-Brown had occupied a similar position in the second fifteen.

　　He was big and speedy, and in second fifteen matches these qualitiesmake up for a great deal. If a man scores one or two tries in nearlyevery match, people are inclined to overlook in him such failings astimidity and clumsiness. It is only when he comes to be tried infootball of a higher class that he is seen through. In the secondfifteen the fact that Rand-Brown was afraid to tackle his man hadalmost escaped notice. But the habit would not do in first fifteencircles.

　　"All the same," said Clephane, pursuing his subject, "if they don'tplay him, I don't see who they're going to get. He's the best of thesecond three-quarters, as far as I can see."It was this very problem that was puzzling Trevor, as he walked off thefield with Paget and Clowes, when they had got into their blazers afterthe match. Clowes was in the same house as Trevor--Donaldson's--andPaget was staying there, too. He had been head of Donaldson's up toChristmas.

　　"It strikes me," said Paget, "the school haven't got over the holidaysyet. I never saw such a lot of slackers. You ought to have taken thirtypoints off the sort of team you had against you today.""Have you ever known the school play well on the second day of term?"asked Clowes. "The forwards always play as if the whole thing boredthem to death.""It wasn't the forwards that mattered so much," said Trevor. "They'llshake down all right after a few matches. A little running and passingwill put them right.""Let's hope so," Paget observed, "or we might as well scratch to Riptonat once. There's a jolly sight too much of the mince-pie and Christmaspudding about their play at present." There was a pause. Then Pagetbrought out the question towards which he had been moving all the time.

　　"What do you think of Rand-Brown?" he asked.

　　It was pretty clear by the way he spoke what he thought of that playerhimself, but in discussing with a football captain the capabilities ofthe various members of his team, it is best to avoid a too positivestatement one way or the other before one has heard his views on thesubject. And Paget was one of those people who like to know theopinions of others before committing themselves.

　　Clowes, on the other hand, was in the habit of forming his views on hisown account, and expressing them. If people agreed with them, well andgood: it afforded strong presumptive evidence of their sanity. If theydisagreed, it was unfortunate, but he was not going to alter hisopinions for that, unless convinced at great length that they wereunsound. He summed things up, and gave you the result. You could takeit or leave it, as you preferred.

　　"I thought he was bad," said Clowes.

　　"Bad!" exclaimed Trevor, "he was a disgrace. One can understand a chaphaving his off-days at any game, but one doesn't expect a man in theWrykyn first to funk. He mucked five out of every six passes I gavehim, too, and the ball wasn't a bit slippery. Still, I shouldn't mindthat so much if he had only gone for his man properly. It isn't beingout of practice that makes you funk. And even when he did have a try atyou, Paget, he always went high.""That," said Clowes thoughtfully, "would seem to show that he wasgame."Nobody so much as smiled. Nobody ever did smile at Clowes' essays inwit, perhaps because of the solemn, almost sad, tone of voice in whichhe delivered them. He was tall and dark and thin, and had a pensiveeye, which encouraged the more soulful of his female relatives toentertain hopes that he would some day take orders.

　　"Well," said Paget, relieved at finding that he did not stand alone inhis views on Rand-Brown's performance, "I must say I thought he wasawfully bad myself.""I shall try somebody else next match," said Trevor. "It'll be ratherhard, though. The man one would naturally put in, Bryce, left atChristmas, worse luck."Bryce was the other wing three-quarter of the second fifteen.

　　"Isn't there anybody in the third?" asked Paget.

　　"Barry," said Clowes briefly.

　　"Clowes thinks Barry's good," explained Trevor.

　　"He _is_ good," said Clowes. "I admit he's small, but he cantackle.""The question is, would he be any good in the first? A chap might dojolly well for the third, and still not be worth trying for the first.""I don't remember much about Barry," said Paget, "except being collaredby him when we played Seymour's last year in the final. I certainlycame away with a sort of impression that he could tackle. I thought hemarked me jolly well.""There you are, then," said Clowes. "A year ago Barry could tacklePaget. There's no reason for supposing that he's fallen off since then.

　　We've seen that Rand-Brown _can't_ tackle Paget. Ergo, Barry isbetter worth playing for the team than Rand-Brown. Q.E.D.""All right, then," replied Trevor. "There can't be any harm in tryinghim. We'll have another scratch game on Thursday. Will you be herethen, Paget?""Oh, yes. I'm stopping till Saturday.""Good man. Then we shall be able to see how he does against you. I wishyou hadn't left, though, by Jove. We should have had Ripton on toast,the same as last term."Wrykyn played five schools, but six school matches. The school thatthey played twice in the season was Ripton. To win one Ripton matchmeant that, however many losses it might have sustained in the othermatches, the school had had, at any rate, a passable season. To win twoRipton matches in the same year was almost unheard of. This year therehad seemed every likelihood of it. The match before Christmas on theRipton ground had resulted in a win for Wrykyn by two goals and a tryto a try. But the calculations of the school had been upset by thesudden departure of Paget at the end of term, and also of Bryce, whohad hitherto been regarded as his understudy. And in the first Riptonmatch the two goals had both been scored by Paget, and both had beenbrilliant bits of individual play, which a lesser man could not havecarried through.

　　The conclusion, therefore, at which the school reluctantly arrived, wasthat their chances of winning the second match could not be judged bytheir previous success. They would have to approach the Easter termfixture from another--a non-Paget--standpoint. In these circumstancesit became a serious problem: who was to get the fifteenth place?

　　Whoever played in Paget's stead against Ripton would be certain, if thematch were won, to receive his colours. Who, then, would fill thevacancy?

　　"Rand-Brown, of course," said the crowd.

　　But the experts, as we have shown, were of a different opinion.