Evening Star Newspaper, October 26, 1930, Page 96

12 For Dear THE SUNDAY STAR, Old Poso— And Dolly _ L.ec Y Poso Oit Company Wolves lined up, crouched low and faced the Bluebottle Oil Co.'s Bearcats. It was the last few minutes of play and we were two points w the bad. In this play we would either win or lose. It was our fourth down with nine yards to go. I decided to go. I decided to try a TiSS-Cross. . “Six, fourteen, nine, ¢%ht and mop” I barked. Midget Brown passed the ball. - I snapped it to Lizard Gallagher and Lizard held it for Beef Boswell. My linesmen ripped e hole in the opposing wall, and it looked fike a touchdown for Poso. The crowd, sensing something dramatic, let out a roar. “Hey,” came Beef’s plaintive voice through the bedlam. I whirled. There was Beef squatting down om hands and knees looking up at me with a dumb expression. The fate of Poso hung upon his action, and he was as calm as a barnacle on a river scow. “What's the play?” he inquired, mildly in- terested. “The criss-cross, you dolt,” I howled. “But you said HUP,” argued Beef. “And you never did before. What does HUP call for?” . Before I could think of an appropriate oath the Bearcat ends circled around and nailed Liza¥d in his tracks. The ball and the game were theirs, for the gun ended the game a moment later. The Bearcat supporters flooded onto the field, howling in glee. Our constituents, being great sportsmen, lined up and jeered us with enthusiastic venom. “I did my part,” Lizard defended®himself as we walked off the field. “I held the ball so’s Beef could take it. Where was Beef?” “Trying to figure out what time it was” I answered. “And Lord knows what you were thinking of. When you saw that Beef had collided with himself couldn't you have run with the ball instead of giving an imitation of a hen hatching an egg?” “I ain’t g>tting paid for doing Beef's job,” stated Lizard. “The signals called for him to take the ball. Why should I do that big stiff’s work?"” TKAT, my friends, was the situation I was up against, as coach amd quarierback for the Peso Oil Co.’s so-called foot ball team. In case you don't know it, many California oil companies subsidize foot ball teams for the advertisement derived from their playing. Players are hired as rig builders, tool dressers and drillers, but all they do to earn their two or thrée hundred bucks a month is to play foot ball against teams representing other oil companies. After my first week as coach for Poso it became my firm conviction that the company could have secured more advertising and pro- vided more entertainment for its money by setting a reservoir of petroleum on fire instead of paying out cash for that year’s foot ball team Big Tim Grady, Poso lease superintendent, met me at the side lines with a scowl on his lips and a cigar in his face. “Licked again,” he grunted. “So were we,” I stated. “Don’t try an’ be funny,” Tim grunted. “This is a fine foot ball team you're giving us. You're making us the laughing stock of the leases. Thought you were geing to give us a team?” “You wouldn't expect a driller to dig a well with a soup ladle, would you?” I asked. “Be- fore I signed up you said you had some good material for me. What you did was hire four tons of brawn and an ounce of brains. You should be in the pork business where fat counts. These birds are too dumb to play foot ball. Those who remember the date of pay day and how to spell their names are mental marvels compared with the rest. They con- sider that they've got a job of work, and they refuse to get excited about foot ball as a game. They've always got one ear cocked for the noon whistle. Trying to inspire that gang would be like providing a rooting section for a bunch of Bohunk ditch diggers.” “Very funny,” said Big Tim. “But here's something funnier. Your contract says you get a $5,000 bonus at the end of the season, providing I'm satisfied with your work. Well, I ain't satisfied.” “You mean you're not going to give me the bonus?” I asked. “Under one condition I will,” answered Big Tim. “That condition is that you beat the Black Gold Co.’s Panthers. As far as I'm concerned that's our big game. I bet Pat Sullivan, the super for the Black Gold, F00 berries that we'd beat his team. Win the game and you get your bonus.” “Lord,” I groaned. ‘“No matter what the Pederal Reserve does with call money, people will speculate. We couldn’'t beat the Jlack Gold Panthers with four tanks in the backfield and your uncle as referee.” “Which means you're out 5,000 klinkers,” snapped Big Tim. “Think it over, fella.” I did, but I didn't get anything out{ of & except. a headache. The next day I put some one ¢lse in my place B R ~- WASHINGTON, D. C, OCTOBER 25, 1930. Derrick and Beef appeared from somewhere and both tackled Lizard before he reached the goal. A free-for-all started, a Panther man fell on the pigskin, and the game ended in a tie. The whole team was tangled up in a dog fight when I left, broken and beaten. A Foot Ball Farce Which Proves That a Girl With Well Arranged Features Can Make a Foot Ball Team Go Out and Do All Sorts of Things. By Charles Winfield Fessier Illustrated by Joe King at quarter and stood bgside Big Tim watching the eleven work out. Derrick Beyers was car- rying the ball, giving a fair imitation of an old gentleman with a cane staggering home from a Civil War veterans’ reunion, but ne one was able to stop him. Neither Big Tim nor I spoke. He was gloomily thinking of his $500, and I was ten times as gloomy, being occupied with thoughts of $5,000 I wasn’t going to get. ALL of a sudden my mind was taken off my troubles. A small amount of pink silk was being propelled across the field by a pair of rather nice legs. Inspecting the thing clesely, I found that the legs belonged to a young lady. She had the usual hair, nose, eyes, lips and chin that go to make up the average female, but her secret of success was the way those features had been arranged. Nature'd taken a great deal of care in turning out that girl. Walking up to Big Tim, she said, “Are you . the man that's looking for a stenographer?” Big Tim wasn't the man. But I could tell that he wished he was. I turned toward the team and found that the men were all fighting for a glimpse of the girl. Their mutual expression was a mingling of doubt and surprise. They doubted that such a pretty girl existed, and were surprised that they were actually looking at her. An idea hit me. “I've got it,” I 3aid, grabbing Big Tim by the arm. “The incentive.” “Huh,” grunted Big Tim, backing away. “The incentive,” I repeated. “Sometihng to make the team play foot ball.” “Oh,” brighetned Big Tim, “you mean & shotgun. “I do not,” I denied. “I mean the girl. Look at that bunch of timberdomes there. There isn't & man there that wouldn't commit hara- kiri with a rusty safety razor blade for her sake, She’s one of these girls who appear at prize fights and 10,000 men miss the knockout. Hire her. I don't care if you list her as a driller and steal the money from the office safe. But hire her. She’ll take the place of college spirit. “Oh,” said Big Tim. “I get you now. You mean hire her and let her hang around here s0's the boys'll play good foot ball to show off in front of her. That's a good idea. Let's go talk to her.” We followed the girl, explained our proposi- tion and she accepted willingly, saying that she’d like a job like that much better than pounding a typewriter, inasmuch as she always had been bothered with spelling, punctuation and cther trivial matters. The next day I spread the news among the boys, telling 'em that the girl, Dolly Lee, was now an employe of the Poso Oil Company and a keen foot ball enthusiast. “That’s funny,” commented Derrick. “This morning she asked us why was we fighting over the ball and wanted to know why didn't we be gentlemen and take turns kicking it. How- ever, any time she wants a horse and wagon I'l see that she gets a horse and wagon.” The rest of the team agreed with Derrick. Dolly came out to watch the evening practice and startling things happened. I told her to applaud each good play and she, not knowing a good play from a triple fumble, gave a vocal After that Dolly came to the field every day and rooted for the eleven. S TN TR BN X varkeawy UL approval to everything. It was just as well What the gang lacked in ability it he'd left the goal posts tripped and came to earth. Seeing that my plan was working, I was very happy. AmRth.tDoflyclmetofllmldmr! and rooted for the eleven individually collectively. The result was amazing. One ‘The team was playing good foot ball by the time the Black Gold game came off. Both Big Tim and I were optimistic, but I wanted to cinch matters. I talked a plan over with Doliy and she cheer- fully agreed. “Listen, you fellas,” I told the gang just be- fore the two teams lined up. “There’s a big dance following the game this evening. Dolly sent word through me that she’ll go with the man I select as the outstanding star of the . game. Now hop to it.” By the grim expression on the boys’ faces as they trotted out on the field, I knew that my scheme had clicked. With a date with Dolly as an inducement, I could see no reason why the men wouldn't play such a brand of foot balt as to smear the Black Gold outfit all over the lot and cinch my $5,000 bonus. Beef kicked off. The Panther safety man caught the ball and I nailed him in his tracks. He managed to slug me in the eye before the whistle sounded and the game was on. The Panthers tried a play through tackle. Lizard cut the runner off at the pockets hefore he reached the line. Then they tried a run around end and Beef smacked the runner out of bounds for a three-yard loss. They punted and I received. After evad- ing a couple of tacklers I was downed on the 30-yard line and my left ear. Beef took the ball 20 yards through center on the first play. Lizard followed up with 15. Derrick added 10 more. I took the ball over a touchdown. Beef, Lizard and Derrick surrounded me after I'd missed the conversion. They were all talking at once, but I got what they meant. They said it wasn't fair for me to make the touchdowns after they'd put the ball in position. They accused me of trying to be a star so’s I could take Dolly to the dance that evening. I didn’t want ‘em to get sore and blow the game, 80 I promised to lay off carrying the ball. I was thinking of my $5,000 bonus, not dancing engagements. After that it was a riot. In quick succession Beef, Lizard and Derrick carried the ball across the line. We were four touchdowns to the good at the half. My bonus looked good. According to my instructions, Dolly came down during the intermission to encourage the boys. I had drilled her on what to say. “Remember,” she concluded, “I've got my heart and sout in this game.” “You ain’t got anything on me,” stated Midget Brown. “I've donated part of my left He had. Just before the teams lined up for the second half, I noticed that some of my men were in a huddle, but I thought nothing of it. The game was on ice and so was my bonus. Some- times ice melts. E kicked off and a fleet-footed Panther ; galloped through the entire Poso team for a touchdown. We were still three touchdowns ahead, so I didn't worry. But I didn’'t remain in that state of mind for long. Something had happened to my team. All of a sudden they Continued om Sizteenth Page