Radio mirror (Nov 1938-Apr 1939)

in "Oh, but I think it's wonderful!" She seized one of his hands in both of hers and led him to the Phi Phi's tapestry chesterfield couch, where she seated both herself and him — retaining the hand. "Just think of all those people, listening in, actually seeing the game while you're describing it!" Clump's senses began to reel under the impact of so much sweetness. Somewhere, far down in the depths of his mind, a vague suspicion was born that his appointment to the role of radio announcer had immeasurably increased his stature in Arlene's eyes, He swelled, visibly. "Oh, it's not so much," he said in modest tones. "Just that I was the only one they could trust to know all the fellows on the team, and all the plays." "It's a great responsibility," Arlene was solemn now. "Just think of having to keep your eye on that ball all the time." CLUMP had opened his mouth to speak, but now he shut it abruptly. Keeping his eye on the ball, as well as on the movements of the rest of the team, had been a sore point in his relationship with. Coach during the past two years. "Oh well, of course it isn't exactly easy," he said at last, darkly. "I think it's just wonderful," Arlene reiterated, and in her eyes as she regarded him there was a melting light. Emboldened, Clump said: "Look, Arlene, whyn't you go with me to the Harvest Ball, after all?" "But I have a date, Clump. You wouldn't want me to break it, would you?" "Well . . . no," Clump lied. "Not exactly. But — gee, Arlene, that guy's a lug — " "I'm sure I don't know to whom you are referring," she said coldly. "Oh, all right," Clump subsided. "But he is." Unaccountably, the smile returned to Arlene's face. "There'll be other dances," she suggested softly. Clump left the Phi Phi house, some time later, hugging those words to his thrust-out chest. Of course you couldn't expect a nice girl to break a date, even if she did know she wouldn't have a good time and wished she was going with another fellow. And besides, as she'd pointed out, there were other dances. In spite of grandstand playing, there were always eleven players on a football team. But a radio announcer was a star in his own right. Homecoming Day was all that the most avid old grad could desire — air that seemed to crackle as you walked through it, a sun which toasted you comfortably on the side of you facing it, and a faint smell of burning leaves coming from no place in particular. Clump put in a busy and happy morning, watching the crew from the radio station install the remotecontrol equipment at the field. Sweetwater is quite a small university, and its stadium is called that only by courtesy — actually, it consists of several rows of bleachers erected along the south side of the field. There is no press box or announcer's booth, and no place to put either, so Clump was to roam along the side lines, carrying the microphone and trailing a length of wire after him as he went. This was very much okay by Clump: he was happy to be where people could see him all the time. The equipment properly installed, Clump spent the Coming next month . . . "The Candle the Forest,11 by Temple Bailey — touching story which inspired beautiful Christmas broadcast rest of the time until the game began in memorizing the names and numbers of the men on the State team. At one-thirty the bleachers began to fill up. Clump squatted at the edge of the field, looking as if he were tinkering with microphone and controls — both of which he had been grimly warned by the man from the station to leave severely alone — but keeping one eye on the seats around the fifty-yard line, where Arlene had said she'd be sitting. He saw her come in, a vivid little figure in magenta, and after a while he slowly turned and let his glance fall upon her, as if by accident. He raised his hand in lazy salute, and then turned back to the field. Looking at him, you'd never have known that a warm glow suffused his entire being. Then he noticed that his hands were trembling, and there was a dry sensation toward the back of his throat. He fished for a cough drop and swallowed it anxiously, without noticeable result. He looked at the microphone, and it seemed to grow larger and take on a menacing quality. Suddenly the two teams were on the field, warming up. Clump blinked his eyes rapidly; it was a little difficult to focus them. The man from the radio station plucked at Clump's sleeve, nodded, and mouthed: "We're on the air. Go ahead." Clump began to talk. Afterwards, he never knew exactly what he said. He did remember, however, that after several years somebody shoved a list of players into his hand, and that he read from this until the game started. And then, suddenly, it wasn't so bad. Things were happening out there on the field, and they were interesting things, and all he had to do was tell about them as they happened. This was the best Homecoming Day game Sweetwater had ever had. Usually the score at the end of a tussle between Sweetwater and State could be pretty accurately predicted, within limits. That is, you could bet that it would be: State, more than twenty; Sweetwater, seven or less. But today the story was different. At the end of the half the score stood 6 to 6, and the student body of Sweetwater University was in a state of acute hysteria. Nothing like it had been heard of since '21, when the Sweetwater hockey team larruped State 11 to 0. CLUMP HAMP viewed the historic battle with mixed emotions, insofar as he had time to feel any emotions at all. On one hand, there was the same lust for victory that boiled in the breast of every loyal Sweetwaterite. On the other hand, there was the undeniable fact that Tom Reller had made Sweetwater's one touchdown; and, further, that at least three times since then, with a well-considered tackle, he had prevented State from adding to its score. This Clump found hard to stomach. The third quarter ended, the teams changed goals, and the fourth quarter began, with the score still 6 to 6. Visions of glory began to visit the thoughts of Coach O'Hanrahan. His team — his team! — was holding State to a tie. Even Clump was happy — reasonably so. Loyalty and school spirit had triumphed over his baser nature. (Continued on page 71) 16