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Show ; ffficr ion POINT TOUCHDOWN I YV By RICHARD BRESLIN toward the sideline. Taggert dove, gathered it in. He slid all the way to the Tech bench, and got up. 1 Farraday swore in sympathy. He said: "Murder! That ball's slippery! slip-pery! " "Tough to handle," agreed Jerry. "You needn't worry," said Farraday, Farra-day, chuckling. "They even hold it lor you. All you got to do is kick it" Jerry glared. Everybody figured It was easy because he only played a lew minutes each game. He never even got in a practice scrimmage; too light, might get hurt. All he had to do was kick it, and he hadn't slept in a week thinking about it. Tech started to drive. Taggert sent his plays into the line. He was snarling the signals, snapping his backs at the Aggie defense like a whip. Through tackle, guard, the other tackle. Then, back along the line. Five yards, three, four. A first down. Another. Tech kept marching. "Yow!" shouted Farraday. Big Dan leaped into the air. On the Tech IT WAS still raining when they came onto the field for the second halt After the heat of the dressing room the air was cold and biting. Jerry Ellis grunted, and drew his blanket tighter. He splashed toward the Tech bench, staring up into the stands. The spectators, huddled under un-der umbrellas and newspapers, looked as if they'd melted in the drizzle and had run together. 'They must be nuts," said Farra-day's Farra-day's voice beside him. Jerry turned. "They?" "Sure." Farraday grinned; he nodded at the stands. "They paid money to sit in the rain. Am I glad I'm third string. You're going to freeze out there without that blan- You see what they're doing. Kicking early. Keeping us away. They've got a touchdown and we haven't. Get it back. Get the six points and I'll send Jerry out there. That's all we need." And he had turned to Jerry and smiled. Jerry bit his lip. Even Dan didn't realize that you couldn't kick them all. Sooner or later he was bound to miss. And this was the last game. "Here we go," muttered Farraday. Farra-day. The Aggies kicked off. Taggert, the Tech quarterback, took it on his five, and brought it back twelve yards. The Aggie tackier barely Jerry frowned. He said: "You're sure I'm going out there?" "You always have," said Farraday. Farra-day. Jerry winced. He always had. Since he'd been a sophomore he'd kicked every extra point that Tech had made. Automatic Jerry Ellis, the newspapers called him Tech's place-kick specialist. There'd been columns telling how he hadn't missed in twenty-two games, how he'd run up a string of forty-eight successive points after touchdowns. Most of the sportswriters mentioned the part he'd played in Tech's unbeaten, un-beaten, untied season, and that this was his last college game. There was straw strewn under the bench and Jerry kicked it into a pile for his feet. He sat down and one of the assistant managers tucked a blanket around his legs. Jerry wished that he'd missed in the previous game. He was due to miss. He was overdue. He'd expect- ( Jerry froze, grew rigid; gave a gasping sob. "Kick! Kick!" Taggert Tag-gert screamed. bench only Jerry was silent, his eyes shifting from the clock to the field. He sat on his hands to hide their trembling. Tech stuck to power plays. They bulled through for three yards, two The Aggie backs were playing close, backing up the line. The next play bounced off the Aggie wall. No gain. Taggert suddenly faded back, passed. It was out in the flat and risky. The Tech half juggled the ball, but he held it. He went all the way to the seven yard line before the Aggies caught him. Taggert opened up. He called a spinner, a reverse, a delayed buck. The referee's arms went up. Touchdown. Touch-down. Farraday pulled the blanket off Jerry. He said: "Get going." Jerry saw Big Dan beckon. "There's the ball game," he said, smiling. "Make it legal, Jerry." d it a week ago, and the Saturday before. Tech had had a nice comfortable com-fortable lead in both those games. .They didn't need his points. Today, they were trailing the Aggies 6 to 0, and it was raining, and it was his last game in a Tech uniform. There was a hoarse murmur from the crowd in the opposite stands, and he saw the Aggies sprinting out on the field. They'd changed to dry uniforms and it took Jerry a moment mo-ment to spot the two new men in the Aggie backfield. Tall men, and fast. Farraday sat next to him. He said: "We're wearing them down. See those subs in there?" "Subs!" Jerry said. -"They're three deep in backs. They're playing play-ing safe, that's all." "Sure." Farraday nodded. "Trying "Try-ing to protect their lousy six points. Just like Big Dan said." Jerry remembered the coach's words in the dressing room. Big Dan Winowski didn't go in for pep-talks. pep-talks. But there hadn't been a sound except his calm voice, and a dripping drip-ping shower. "All right," the coach had said. "I know it's wet, and bad footing, and we can't pass much with that ball. But they've shot their bolt. brushed him, but it was enough to send him sliding in the mud. Tech tried three plays and then punted. The game settled into a punter's battle. Taggert had the wind at his back and counted on picking up distance dis-tance on each exchange. But the Aggie kicker was good, too. Jerry couldn't keep from watching watch-ing the clock on the scoreboard. The big second hand jerked around, stopped, moved again. Jerry found himself nodding as the hand jerked. He was cold inside; a chill that had nothing to do with the wind and rain. Every minute passing made the odds against him greater. The quarter ended; the teams changed goals. Now, he'd have the wind fighting him when he tried to kick. His luck was out all right. "Hey!" cried Farraday, startled. "Hey!" Jerry snapped awake. A fumble. There was a wild, awkward scramble scram-ble for the ball. An Aggie, stumbling in the mud, dropped on it. The ball I popped from beneath him, bounded Jerry swallowed. He opened his mouth, and then shut it tight. He nodded and trotted out onto the field. His legs moved him stiffly toward to-ward the referee. He heard his voice, thin and strained. ''Ellis for Melkovich. At full." He walked woodenly into position and stared up at the cross-bar. It was a dim line in the gloom. Taggert was drying the ball with a towel. He wiped his hands and knelt at Jerry's feet, Taggert grinned and said: "In the bag, kid. I'll put my hand under it. The mud's like grease." Jerry stood rigid. His forehead was clammy. "Steady in there," called Taggert. "Keep them off him. Steady." His head turned as, he glanced along the line. "Ready, kid?" Taggert's voice sharpened. "Signals!" he raised his hands. Something clicked in Jerry's head. This is it, he thought. "Seven, nine, eleven " At worst it was a tie. But a tie spoiled the season's record. He couldn't make it. "Three, five " He'd done it too many times. A miss was overdue. He was going to miss. "Two!" The ball moved, grew large. It came back straight. Taggert caught it, placed it in position. Jerry took a step. He froze. "Kick!" Taggert screamed, wild-eyed. wild-eyed. Jerrv gave a gasping sob. He stooped, snatched the ball from Taggert's fingers, and ran. He nearly hit the Aggie end. charging in. The end tried to stop himself, slipped, went down. His mouth was still open in amazement as Jerry dodged past He raced for the corner of the end zone. He could hear Taggert pounding pound-ing along behind him, shouting in a high, excited voice, but nobody came near him. As he crossed the line, Jerry looked back. The Aggies were standing motionless, bewildered. bewil-dered. Jerry touched the ball down. He started to laugh. He looked up at the scoreboard and saw the 7 move into place. 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