Page:The spirit of the leader (IA spiritofleader00heyl).pdf/49

 for two years, the yearning to have some part in the athletic life of his school, had at last been realized. Overnight, as it were, through his election as manager of the team, he had become a somebody.

He told himself that he had made a good job of this, his first game. He had checked up suit cases in the Northfield gym and had grouped them in a corner so that the start had been without confusion and last-minute frenzy. He had checked up again just before leaving and had found Littlefield, the right end, to be minus his head guard. They had reached the railroad station late, to find a clamoring line of men and women in front of the ticket window; but he had purchased tickets for the team the day before. "Some head," George Praska, the big guard, had commended. The same glow that had run through Perry then ran through him now at the memory.

A cheer broke from the handful of Northfield rooters who had accompanied the team.

"Wasn't it Praska who stopped that play?" a voice asked at Perry's elbow.

"I wasn't watching just then," Perry answered.

The voice was deferential. "I suppose you've got to just close your eyes to the game and give