And so, although the Scrub triumphed that day, the Varsity trailed home with a third defeat pinned to it, and the school was at first incredulous, then disgusted and, finally, resentful. Explanations and excuses didn’t satisfy. A few fellows who had journeyed to Corwin and witnessed the game declared that hard luck and not poor work had been to blame for the defeat; that on merit Clearfield should have conquered by at least one score. The school at large listened but was unconvinced. “Beaten again!” it said. “Three games lost out of five played! What sort of a team have we got, anyway? What’s Dick Lovering think he’s doing? Playing ‘give-away’?”
There had been extenuating circumstances, however, whether the fellows were willing to believe it or not. Clearfield had distinctly outplayed her opponent in three of the four periods, had gained more ground by rushing, had punted farther and had shown better generalship. In short, she had fairly deserved to win. But there is no denying that success is what counts, and she had not succeeded.
She had fought her way half the length of the field for a clean, well-earned touchdown in the second period and had kicked the goal. She had again rushed nearly sixty yards in the third quarter, and, being held for three downs, had sent a field-goal over for three more points. She had secured the ball two minutes later near the Corwin goal and almost scored again, a fumbled ball which every fellow on the eleven declared had been recovered by Tupper, being awarded to Corwin on the latter’s four yards. And, in the final period, when, with the score 12 to 10 against her, she had twice attempted goals from the field, either of which would have given her a victory, Morris Brent had failed dismally to make good. Not once, declared Lanny resentfully, had the luck broken for Clearfield. All during the contest Fortune had glaringly befriended the adversary. Even Corwin’s first touchdown could not be justly said to have been deserved, for the ball had been Clearfield’s on her twelve yards, succeeding a punt by the opponent, and, after off-side penalties had twice been imposed on Clearfield when Corwin had equally offended, a blocked-kick had been downed by Corwin behind High School’s line. But all this failed to impress the supporters of the team and by Monday feeling against Dick, or, perhaps, against what the school termed his system, was running high. One heard criticism everywhere, sometimes mildly sarcastic, more often angry and bitter. Some wag evolved a conundrum that circulated through school: “What’s the matter with the football team?” “Too many Beatons!” Unfortunately for the perfect success of the conundrum, the question elicited so many explanations and theories that the answer, when it arrived, fell rather flat.