Boy's Cinema (1939-40)

Every Tuesiay (hat, \v;tH on liis brow. "Biiiiiiy's a fine I'oy. Ami, cl'.yin\ Iciiow, I'm more tliuii nn old fool - I'm a \iin linr, becaiisi! 1 liUe lu-iiiK iJiesiili'iit of tlio UisKi'is Constluction Coni|]iiiiy. Are Mill K"iiif< with me to see the team practise ti) itiorrow ?" " I'd lovii to!" She gave liirn a kiss. "Clood- ni^'lit—(Irtd !" BRAINY LOSES HIS HEAD TlIK iVli'Kiiile.v toiiiii inaclised oti the field at tlio i\'lciuorial Stiitiium next moniins. and a Rood niaii.\ privilened people were on (lie stands to watch. J5ul Brainy was brood- in;; ov«r an article by l-nUe Kelly which had appeauid in that day's "Herald." lie ob- jected voiy stroiinly indeed to being descrilied in dKlit a.s "a tall wind from Texas," and his »tf(>rts wure so halfiiearted (hat Dutch Bronson put an end to the proceedings after less than an hour. "All right, Brainy," he said to the ofl'ender. "Take a shower and call it a day. Yon didn't mind practi.iing \\ith the boys, did J'ou, just as a court.oHy ?" Brainy strode off to th'-; drrs<ing-room more disgruntled than ever, and to make matters worse liukci Kellv wandered in at the door while he was lacing his boots, gave him an impish grin, and inquired blandly: "How are you. Brainy?" The sour expression on Brainy's face changed to one of fury. He bounded to his feet and knocked the sports writer flat on his back with a blow to tlie left eye. The ikorrified trainer rushed forward, but Brainy snatched up his hat and overcoat and went off withoLit a word to anyone. The incident was discussed in Abbott's office subsequently, and Bronson took a serious view of it. The papers, he said, would be fidl of the affair and the team would be disgraced. Abbott, however, was quite cheerful. "The madder Kelly gets," he asserted, "the more people wilt be breaking their necks to get to the game. That's publicity for you. Good or bad, it's publicity." Sylvia called at the Bartmore Hotel, in the evening, to see Brainy; but the clerk at the desk inturnied lier that he was not in his room. "is he in the dining-room V" she asked. "The players have all had their dinner," the clerk replied. She turned away disappointedly, but some impulse caused ber to look into the almost deserted dining-room—and there he was. at one of the tables, fingering an empty tumbler. l[e seemed to be wiapped in gloom, and he did not notice her approach. "Worried, Brainy?" she taunted. He looked up at her with a start. "Oh, hallo!" he said, rising to his feet. " Have a seat." She .sat down facing him across the table, aufl she .said flippantly: "I thought you might be having nightmares about those big Gale tackles." "Not a. cliance," he grunted. "Brainy, I ^vouldn't mind what a lot of ct)py- hungry reporters have to say." "Think they got mv goat?" he challenged. "What about Kelly?" "Aw, he had it coming to him." "Maybe, but you coiddn't practise this morning—or didn't,want to." "I had an off day," he defended. "I've liad a long season and I'm no machine." "Just human, like the rest of us?" "Oh, you, too, huh?" "Brainy, please," she said seriously, "don't, you think that some of this might be your fault? You're flying so high that people get stiff necks looking up at you." "What am I supposed to do?" he retorted. "Go out and bury my.=elf just because some- body's jealous if a guy happens to be pood, or Inckv?" "Brainy!" "Sorry. I didn't mean to take it out on yon. Let's have a drink." "On the night before the game?" The cjuestion was a reproof in it.~elf. " Wliy, sure. For the bonoin- of old McKinley. Why not?" She looked at the empty tumbler and she looked at him. It was evident that he had not eaten. BOY'S CINEMA "^^)^l're only chinking becan.sc you got a few f>inH Htuck in you," she fold hitn. That was loo true (o be pleaMan(. He pushed back his chair and stood up. "I'll be seeing yon some time," he s.iid crudely, and then he st.ilked out from the room. Sylvia knew th.it bei uncle wa.-- in the pri- v,i(e sitting-room Mr. Dow had engaged, and she joined bin, (here. Bronson and Abbo(t were wi(h the stockbroker and (he ex iiighl- wa(chman, and all four weie becoming worrii'd about Brainy. A( half-pa-'t (en the (lainer bnis( in upon (hern, obviously upse(. "Well, what is i( ?" barked Bronson. "The lads are so jumpy I can't put 'em to bed." the trainer blnrled. " Didn't vou tell them " "Just wliat you told me, that Bridny's spending (he night in your room. But they're too smart to take it in, and they're chatterin' away lil:e a bunch of old ladies." "Well," said Bronson wearily, "do the best you can, Pat." The trainei- departed. Sylvia had not said a word about her encounter with Brainy, and so far as the others knew, he had been missing ever since he hafl knocked l^nke Kelly dowiL. "Running out like a yellow p\ip!" exploded Bronson. "Star or no star, lie doesn't play to-morrow!" Arnold .1. Abbott was aghast. "Don't say it, coach," he expostulated. "Do you want to see eighty thousand people tear- ing that stadium apart seat by seat?" The door swung wide, and in at it lurched Brainy, his overcoat collar turned u|) at the back, his hat perched precariously on the back of his head and a foolish grin on his face. " I'm the tall wind that blew in from Texas." he proclaimed, waving a hand. "The big twister— that's me!" "You're a disgrace!" thundered Bronson. " YoTi can't take it. can yon? Why didn't you wait till to-morrow, and then go oi\t and prove that you're good ? Because yon haven't got the gumption of a fly. that's why!" Brainy laughed derisively. "I wonder where all the football coaches would he." he drawled, "if the players didn't take the raps for 'em?" Uncle Fi-ank stepped forward, caught hold of his arm. "Brainy." he said gently, "I'd like to have a little talk with yon." "Aw, take your hand off me." The hand was flung aside. "Mr. Bronson's afraid he's gonna lose a football game—what're you afraid of? That I won't be in shape, and you'll lose some of the bets you've probably made?" Uncle Frank seized him, pushed him down into an easy-chair and held him there. "Listen to me. you young squirt," he said in the fiercest of voices, "I've seen world- beaters like youi' kind before—and I know what becomes of 'em! Nobodv cares whether you take a drink, because nobody cares who wins a football game. Gale or McKinley. What difference does it make? It's what happens later on. when the leal thing is at stake, that matters. Then where will you be? Out on (he playing field, or hiding under the grand stand with yoiu' precious feelings hurt?" Bronson and Abbott Mere looking on in amazement. Sylvia in admiration for her old uncle. Mr. Dow's face was a study. Uncle Frank shook Brainy's shoulders in his vehemence. "This is no coach talking to you." he cried, "but the successful old grad yon want to be some day! Do yon hear ? The rich old grad you'd like to be!" At that moment he happened to catch Mr. Dow's eye. and he was so overcome with shame and confusion that he fled from the room. But Brainy remained slumped in the chair, crushed and repentant, and Sylvia made no effort to conceal her tears. THE GAME BEGINS RECORD crowds were si\rging round the entrances to the Memorial Stadiimn before noon next day. and every bookable seat had been sold. Abbott had not been mis- taken nboul (he [jublicily value of liruiriy'ii uKack upin Luke Kelly. Billy Higgiii!, wui, all ready fo Hiari long before .Ml. Dow arri\e(l at the apailrrieiil liouse in his magnificent car (<» collerl liiiri. and Uncle Fraid<, and SyUi.i. and be wu.s fur too excited to eat any of llie liiMchfori Mri>. Higgins had prepaicd. When Mr. Dow did arri\e, Uncle Fianl; w.im s(ill in his berl-i'(H>in and no more (h.in liidf dressed. Salvia knew why. and she sugge'.(ed tli.il her employer should go on with Billy. "If you don't.' she >aid, "I'm afi-.iid you'll iriis> (he kickoff." That was a (hing Mr. Dow certairdy did not want (o do, and he admi(ted (hat there wasn't much time to spar'e. "()kay, sis." piped Billy. "I'll bi> lookin' out for- you." He and Mr. Dow set out togetliei-, aud Mrs. Higgins clo.sed the front door-. "Dear, 's ther-e airvthirrg I can do?" she asketb "No, mother, nothing," Sylvi.i dismally replied, and she sped to tier imcle's looni. tapped on the door, and entered to find the old fellow sittirrg in a chair- with iris head bowed. "Ml-. Dow and Billy b.-ive gone on," she .said. "Arrd I told yorr to go with (hern," he lebnked. " \'ou'vt got to come with me!" "No." He shook his head withoirt raising it. " I can't. Sylvia." "Yorr're afraid they'll find ou( -(hat's why, isn't it? But does it matter- .-irrv nrore if (hey "No," he said slowly, "I suppose not." "It's funny, but after last rriglrt it doesn't seem like pretendirrg." She went down on her kirees beside him. "Even thorrgh I knew I beheved you. They all did! Brainy did I He was ashamed of himself this rnorriiirg — really ashamed." "Yes." complained Uncle Frank, "but he was listening to the rich old gi'ad—the man he respected." "I'm sure that wouldrr't have made any difference!" "It rrrightn'f." His -wise old eyes wei-e turned to hers at last. "You're right about that boy." "Then why won't you come?" she coaxed. "Something Mr. CJer-aghty said." "Geraghty?" "Yes, my ex-foreman. He said. ' Where've yon been—on a drirnk ? ' He should have said. ' sentimental drimk.' Oh, I'm sick of the whole birsiiress!" Sylvia followed her nnele as lie rose de- jectedly and werrt to a dressing-table as though to take off his collar and tie. "But you don't care if they firrd out rrow." she protested. "Come on, let's go to the match." "Oh. forget it. Sylvia, forget it." he growled. "Makiirg believe in the first place was bad enough. Do you want me to go back now as poor old Lucky Higgins, the night- watchman? To be pitied by everybody? I can't do it. I can't !" "But what are you going to do?" "Stay here till their train leaves to-night." "You'll listen in on the radio?" "Yes, ye?. You run along, now, and make all the excuses." "I will," she surrendered. "And, say—if you're stirck. Sylvia, remem- ber I needed that trip to Florida very badly." While Sylvia was on her way to the Memorial Stadium in a taxicab. Abbott eyed the cr-owded stands with satisfaction from tlie mouth of one of the entrances to the field. "Eighty thousand!" he said exultingly to Fitz, who was with him. "A personal triumph, I'd say!" "How about giving a little credit to Kelly?" grirrned Fitz. "I'll send him a bouquet. Let me tell yon something, kill. Yoir know how I hate col- leges, but this McKinley outfit has somehow got right under my skin—Higgins and the whole crowd. I'm r-ooting for them, actnallv." "They'll need it," saidFitz. "It's three" to one they lose." Abbott frowned at his assistant. Febnrarv 10th. 1940